Music is my default plan for untangling my inner world. At the end of a particularly oppressive, ridiculously overtaxed day, I need my itunes. Yes, I admit that is probably rather tweenager of me, but it acts as a sort of sieve for my internalized angst. I randomly select songs with mood and content to address the days unresolved issues. It is all I can do to not devolve to karaoke sometimes. But, I restrain myself for the sake of my family.

It can be as simple as something retro and rock, a blaring anthem, global house, or alternative and folklike. Eventually I wind my way around to worship. I am a lover of God and His presence is my ultimate destination and desire, regardless of my air guitar, rockband mentality.

This searching reflects my typical pattern of relating to Jesus, one that I hope I will ultimately outgrow. You see, I have to explore all my options, exhaust myself with my own inadequate pursuits, and ultimately arrive at this throne, wondering what took me so long. He smiles. He know me. He is a patient God.
In eterntiy, I doubt that we will float around with harps like the great artists of old depicted. I imagine the choir leader has some new technology that will stun the senses, but I must admit, I think Christ will enjoy all the soloist He knows so well, who found themselves and ultimately Him through a digital download.

Icons of our Age

One of my fascinations with church history is built around the Christian culture that gave us the concepts of icons and relics. Odd little words that are seldom used today. Icons are defined as, a representation of someone or something sacred, like a saint or martyr. We use this word now to describe a tool on our computer screens. Now, I like my computer world, but I doubt there is anything saintly about it. The concept of sacred seems mystical and abstract to me. If you stopped the average man or woman on the street and said "Hey what is sacred to you?" you would probably get very little response. There would be a lot of extended pause time, baffled looks, heads cocked, and mouths open. Some might say, their ipod or car keys, but most would just be stumped and sent to the back of the line. Good question, is it not?
Throughout church history believers held the cross as sacred. It was a symbol of something sacred, something sobering, something personal in connection. That has changed to more of a fashion piece or wall adornment in real time. Collections of carved crosses and plastic kitsch flowers were all the rage a few years ago, displayed as little shrines to a different way of life south of our borders. I am not passing judgment on this decorative moment, I am asking the question, "What is sacred to you?"
In all honesty, I am struggling to find the answer to that myself. Sacred is defined, to be devoted or dedicated to a deity. Simple enough to say, but much more challenging to do. That means my life is sacred. Emphasis comes on the word, my. It is my life that is sacred to God.
It puts a new urgency into the purpose of purity and excellence and even that big stretch, holiness.
Oddly enough, it is not really my life at all. I didn't make or initiate my life. All I can do is return it to my creator in response to the cross. The cross is an icon of much a deeper act of devotion. It symbolizes the devotion of God to me.
If I wear it around my neck, or display it on my wall, it won't change the world. If I chose it for my heart, is changes everything.

The Message that points to Christ on the cross seems like sheer silliness to those hellbent on destruction, but for those on the way of salvation it makes perfect sense. I Corinthians 1:17