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| T shirt called "Ancient Chinese Secret." Don't leave the blog now, all offended. (: Read the story of this T-shirt below |
Any list of great books on the Psalms would include Eugene Peterson's amazing "Answering God" (see "
Eugene Peterson on loud farts"), works by Bruegemann (of course) and....
...did you know David Crowder wrote a book on the Psalms?
It's
"Praise Habit: Finding God in Sunsets and Sushi"
...and it's a ...well, Crowderesque...devotional on selected psalms.
Here's a hilarious highlight, from the book's conclusion:
The Ancient Chinese Secret - by David Crowder
Se-mi-ot-ics n
1. the study of signs and symbols of all kinds, what they mean and how they relate to the things or ideas they refer to.
I bought a T-shirt in Washington, D.C. It was red. It said
"Ancient Chinese Secret" on the front. Below this statement, it had
writing, which I assumed to be Chinese. Never assume. My sushi friend
Shelley was there when I picked it out. I held it up, and she said, "Oh, that is soooo Crowder."
I put it on that very day. I ate lunch in it sitting across from the
pastors of the church where we were playing music later that evening.
As I made my way across the stage, heading for our bus that was parked
outside, our lighting technician stopped me and said, "Wow. You are brave."
"Yes. Well, brave how? I mean, what do you mean 'brave'?"
"The shirt. You know the secret right?"
"Well, yeah." I nervously responded in an uncertain chuckle. It is embarrassing to wear a shirt and not know what it means. "Wait,
what? You mean you know Chinese? Wow. So, huh, well what does it say? I
don't know the secret. I don't know Chinese. What's the secret?"
"Oh, it's in English."
"What? No! I studied this shirt at the store like a flipping
semiotician. It is most certainly not in English. That I am sure of."
"It is in English. Turn the shirt sideways then read."
It was most definitely in English. Granted, it was intended to be
cleverly hidden in ornate, faux Chinese brushstrokes, but once spotted
it was unmistakable. I was wearing a shirt that said, "Go F#$@ Yourself!"
It was all I could see now. How had I missed this? I am not a
semiotician. I sat across from pastors eating hamburgers, laughing and
smiling, while the whole time this was written on my chest!
Stuff in life happens, and we try to make sense of it. So we look
carefully. What could this moment, this tragedy, this weight, this
mountain, this tearing, this violence, this frenzy that is life be
teaching us? What is being said here? And then someone points out, "Hey, it says, 'Go F#$@ Yourself!'" and you've had it on the whole time.
Se-mi-ot-ics n
2. the study of identifying the ways that various symptoms indicate the disease that underlies them. (Medical)
The real message, the thing that is scribbled barely legible, the thing that's always there, underlying, is—we need rescue.
Things aren't as they should be. When your eyes focus and this
becomes visible, you can't tear your eyes from it. And you start to
see that there are those all around us who wait in begging wonder.
"What is wrong? I am here. I am here, and I need you to notice. At
times I'm waving my arms above my head, screaming it. At times I am too
frightened to move, but always I am here, and I want you to notice.
And in the dark I am afraid. I lie with my hand on my chest waiting for
the tapping to come. Things aren't as they should be. There are
symptoms. You see it in my eyes. I have seen it in your eyes, too.
Come to Jesus
To follow Jesus doesn't remove us from the stuff of life. It is not resolution. It is tension and journey. In 1 John 2:6 it says, "Whoever claims to live in him must walk as Jesus did."
Jesus was in the world, engaged, alive, involved, making a
difference. To follow Him, we must do the same. His prayer for us in John 17 is "Not that you take them out of the world ..." and "As you sent me into the world, I have sent them into the world" (verses 15, 18).
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This is what God has done for us. He has come into our condition.
He has come to bring us back. He has come and embraced us. He has come
and covered us in Himself. Watch this Christ. Watch as He is accused of
being a drunkard, of associating with tax collectors. Watch as He
brings healing to the afflicted, love to prostitutes, forgiveness to
sinners. Watch as He climbs the hill bearing His destruction on His
back. Watch as blood and water flow. Watch as salvation comes to us
all. Watch as glory ascends to come again. Watch and fall in love with a
God who does not resolve, whose rescue is never-ending. Whose prayer
is that you would be that rescue. Who sends you to be that rescue.
Be courageous. Even as you stand there hiding in the bushes,
shaking to the bottom of your toes, frightened of what's to follow,
what consequences will come of it, know that evil will not prevail.
That you are not alone. That you bring the kingdom of God, and there
is hope. There is hope always. And others will walk out of dark places
and see you standing there, arms outstretched, given completely to this
hope.
Praise is response. Praise happens when there is revelation, and
there is revelation waiting for us around every bend, in places we
would not suspect.
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Our task is to live with eyes wide open to God's greatness because
when we see the imprint of the creator, our insides will swell with
devotion, our hearts will erupt with thankfulness. You will live,
breathe and radiate praise. The habit isn't in learning "how to
praise"; it is in reminding yourself "who to praise." It is a
remembering of who you are. It is a remembering of your identity.
Praise is redeemed and redefined with rescue.
When you have been found by grace, your identity is swallowed in
Christ. You are enveloped by Him, clothed in His merciful sacrifice. To
live in this remembrance is to bring awareness of Christ into your
every encounter. In this awareness you bring His embrace to the things
you embrace.
You Are Here
There is a sign in my favorite restaurant, 1424,
which happens to be located directly across the street from my house,
that hangs by the bar and states, in black letters on a pale-yellow
background, "You Are Here."
I call often for takeout. I pretend that they are my residential
kitchen staff that just so happens to cook the most flavorful foods on
the planet. The chef's name is Bill, and he knows exactly how I like
my pork tenderloin. We have never discussed it; he just knows. He's
always known. And as I wait for my order to be packed in white
Styrofoam and placed in a plastic bag for transport, I sit at the bar
and read, "You Are Here," and it brings a comfort and solidity to
things. You often hear or encounter inspirational art convincing you to
live as if today is the last, to engage each moment as if it were all
we had, but usually this is married to the idea that it is. That this is it.
There is nothing more than now. All we get is what we suck out of this moment. But I disagree. I read, "You Are Here,"
and I am equally inspired to be fully present in this moment, but it
is not because that is all I have, but because I am bringing something
more. I am bringing the very kingdom of God.
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I read, "You Are Here," and I, ignoring the dramatic punctuation of finality, think, "The kingdom of God is sitting at this bar, waiting to bring something better."
We are to be rescue. We are to be redemption. We are to carry the
story of God to the ones waiting. To the ones with their hands on their
chest, begging you to notice that things aren't right. And this is
praise. You are the note sounding in a thousand different rooms. There
are chords and reflective surfaces around you. There is context.
Sometimes life comes at us with the delicacy of a sunset, and other
times it comes with the rawness of sushi and the bitter bite of
wasabi. Sometimes the tears will be because you cannot stand empty-eyed
in the presence of such beauty, and sometimes they will be full of
fire, but notice/know this:
You are here. You Are Here! You are here, and you are not alone.
Look me in the eyes. Can you feel the fabric on your skin? It is
woven from the threads of love. Pay attention to the way it folds around
you, sense its softness, brush the hair of your arms as you lift them
toward the heavens in unencumbered declaration.
It is the coverings of rescue that you feel. It is a flood. It is
an ocean. It is a sea that has no bottom, for there is no end to it.
To be fully present in the rescue and recreation of Christ is to
embrace what God does for us, and this is the best thing we can do for
Him.
-David Crowder, pp, 152-153 Praise Habit: Finding God in Sunsets and Sushi
Ryan Townsend
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