Time for Recess

But not the kind that readily comes to mind.

That oh-so-sweet, fifteen-minute period of time we were allotted in grade school to escape the four walls of our classrooms and engage in uninhibited recreation.

The type of recess I’m talking about exists deep in my brain-- it’s the part of my imagination that, much to my annoyance, decides to come alive late at night when I’m trying to fall asleep. It’s the “recess” that people refer to when they use the phrase: “deep into the recesses of the soul”… (though, in my case, it’s hardly anything that melodramatic).

This summer I’ve spent a lot of time with the thoughts tumbling around in my head. I haven’t been alone—the Spirit has been guiding me, Jesus has been ever-present in my contemplation, and the Father has cultivated the rich “food” for thought on which I’ve been chewing.
In laymen’s terms: I’ve had a lot of time to think and reflect this summer, so far.

I’ve been putting off and putting off the act of scribing these thoughts and reflections, waiting for the “right time”… or for a sudden burst of inspiration to spark.

As usual, the right time never came and inspiration continuously eluded me.

After all these years of writing, I’ve decided this much: sometimes you just have to sit down and do it. Even when you feel like your creative juices have dried up and blown away, or your mind feels sluggish and incapable of stringing words into a cohesive sentence… just sit down, and see what comes out.

Last night, when my mind’s desire to race far outweighed my body’s desire to sleep, I decided that today I was going to do just that—sit down, and see what comes out.
Thus, here we are; and here I go…
(And no, I don’t consider it cheating to use numeration. It’s for organization’s sake, thank you very much. ☺ )

1. Empathy. It’s been hitting me a lot lately… how much a part of my life it is, has been, and will be.
A couple of weeks ago at First Baptist Church’s “Encounter” service, we sang a worship song that struck a particularly powerful chord with me… rather, though the song in its entirety is beautiful, it was really one phrase that hit my heart like a torpedo—in Hillsong United’s “Hosanna”, the bridge cries out:
“Break my Heart for what Breaks Yours.”
I almost reeled on the spot the first time my eyes scanned over those words on the projector screen. I don’t even know if I sang them, I was so stricken. I do know, however, that I hastily jotted them down in my “sermon notes” notebook, scrawling the words in big, unmistakable letters. The following afternoon, I wrote these genuinely astonished words in my prayer journal:
“Wow, that was cool (this morning). Thank you for taking on our flesh, trials, and sufferings just so you can understand empathetically what it’s like. Empathy is an integral part of who you are, isn’t it? Hm. … I was touched by those lyrics. It’s a prayer to return the gift—we want to feel empathetically, too. We want to experience your own heartbreak… Use me to feel your own pain and be your love so that you can patch the holes.”

Maybe I’m just a little slow or out of touch, but that was the first time this kind of connection really occurred to me. Our Almighty God took on our pitiful human condition, ultimately, to save us—but also to know us (our hurt, our joy, our triumph) to the absolute full extent. How can we not be utterly amazed by this truth? That a deity would love his people so much that he would step down into their midst and become like them? Jesus knows our pain because he once felt it as well. Jesus rejoices with us because he has experienced human exhilaration, too.

And so, this is the great parallel illustrated by Hillsong’s lyrics—

Lord, your heart breaks with ours because you chose to know us so intimately. And though we could never match your sacrifice, we desire to return a representative gift of our own… to know your heart and to see with your eyes.
We want to feel with you, too.

I’m still left open-mouthed when I consider this. Though, God’s phenomena tend to have that effect on me quite a bit. ☺

(And that’s not the last you’ll be hearing of empathy, by the way.)


2. I have discovered that I am very much an Idealist (though, at times, I wish I could say otherwise)— and I am convinced I can somewhat blame my crazy-active imagination for a substantial hand in that development. Recently (and when I say recently, I mean in the last year or so), I have become more tainted by a good-sized helping of cynicism, which of course has its pros and cons, but… I still find myself adamant in placing ideas before reality sometimes.
But let’s consider the fact that, while idealism is usually linked with ignorance and naivety, it might also have something to do with faith. I’ve been praying for the ability to differentiate, and for the Lord to direct me to abide in my ideals with child-like (and often very blind) faith.
Just something to think about, once again. That’s kind of all this outflow is, anyway. ☺

3. Authority Figures and Respect.
Man. What’s up, generation ‘me’?
Maybe it’s part of my upbringing that has made me more aware of this problem amongst my age group (so VERY aptly dubbed the ‘me’ generation) but I have always been under the impression that our elders deserve some respect.
And I’m talking a blanket kind of respect, one that transcends circumstance, personal preference, selfishness, etc., because most of the time, contrary to popular belief, our lack of respect towards our authority figures is not because they are forcing us to do anything that really compromises who we are. It comes from our egocentric nature and petty rebellion and lust for control—very ugly things that are often disguised as “admirable” self-determination and liberty.
Example:
During my Senior year of High School, my English teacher decided (rightfully so, if we’re going to be honest) that our class was in desperate need of some discipline. She gave us a lot of grace that was largely undeserved throughout most of the year, but the time finally came for her to implement a seating chart.
The class was outraged!—an instant students v. teacher revolution. One girl, a particular “loud mouth” (for lack of a better description—I apologize) even retorted hotly: “We’re SENIORS in HIGH SCHOOL! We don’t need a seating chart! That’s just dumb!”
I remember sitting in my seat quietly, dumbfounded, first of all thinking: “Are you going to use that same argument when you get to college next year, as a freshman, and your professor gives you a seating chart, too?” then immediately afterward: “I can’t believe the immaturity and disrespect I’m witnessing right now. That is what’s dumb.”

Maybe I should’ve said something in that situation to defend my ideals, though at the time you couldn’t have paid me to do so. Ever since then, however, I’ve become increasingly aware of like situations, which almost always include someone from my selfish, stupid generation (bear in mind that I’m including myself in the mess—I am no doubt helplessly afflicted with selfishness and stupidity) on the offensive.
Part of this has to do with the fact that industrialization has so drastically changed the relationship between youths and their elders, and, conversely, between youths and authority figures in general. It is no longer the grandparents who teach the young boys and girls how to use the tools of the age and the cultural skills needed for making a living (that’s how things used to operate, back in the day). Now, because of the insane technology boom, it has almost become the opposite scenario. I believe this has lead to a highly unhealthy dose of arrogance and autonomy for we “me’s”…. like we didn’t have enough of that prevalent in our diet already.
Again, just a thought. ☺

4. So, at the beginning of the summer, I was reading through the book of Acts. At the time, my brain was buzzing with thoughts of discontentment and defiance—“Why, oh WHY, God, do I have to spend my summer HERE? Why, when my heart is aching to be somewhere else, doing something else? What’s all this time of nothingness going to be good for?”
And at just the right time on just the right day, I came across a passage in which Paul reflected upon the forty years of wilderness (aka: nothingness) the Hebrews had endured before they were finally given their Promise Land. He talked about how so many grew frustrated and turned away to pursue more instantly gratifying promises instead—forty years is a long time to wait...
But I remember being confused at this, having hindsight the Hebrews did not, and mentally blurting: “But you are going to get to that land flowing with milk and honey! God promised, didn’t He? Why can’t you be patient? He just delivered you! Surely you haven’t forgotten the whole ‘parting of the Red Sea’ thing…?”
Guilt plunged through my heart a half-second later.
“Oh…”
To quote my ever-encouraging friend, Chrissy: I was con. vic. ted.

Weeks later, I sat ‘round a coffee table in a friend’s comfortably stuffy living room and discussed this very phenomenon with some very insightful guys.

We expect God to use a template in our lives a lot of the time, don’t we? We get it in our minds that He’s going to call us to attention before every major life event unfolds, and give us the detailed run-through of the game plan so we’ll know exactly what to expect. We start to think we’ve got His pattern figured out—we start to fill the holes He’s purposefully left voided, much to our discontentment.
And then, whenever He leads us in another direction, or down a detour we weren’t ever expecting to take, we go a little crazy. Whenever He halts that plan we thought we saw materializing and calls for a little patience, we get tired of waiting. We want to know why why why He can’t just do things the easy way—our way.
Um. Well. Just think about that for a second. ☺
Look back and see what those Hebrews endured before they were able to enjoy all the milk and honey. I can estimate with almost complete certainty that none of them were expecting to wander around in a desert for forty years first.
It really clears up one’s perspective, doesn’t it? At least, it has mine. ☺

Sara Groves wrote a song called “Painting Pictures of Egypt.” It is a beautiful song that speaks right to my heart for more than one reason—but there is one line towards the end of the song that must be blood-related to this particular lesson:
“If it comes too quick, I may not appreciate it.
Is that the reason behind all this time in sand?”



Well. Those are 4 points out of the 11 I've documented (so far... yikes). The remaining 6 will just have to be posted at a later date. Don't act so disappointed. ;)
To be continued...