All posts by Chad

Everyday Stuff, Hiraeth, Music, Art, Culture, Books, My Songs

One More Dawn

This one’s for you, Heidi…


Years ago I wrote this song while we waited for Allyson’s mother to die.  It was a difficult time in our first year of marriage, and something we wish we didn’t have to go through.  It was for both of us our first major loss in life.  Robin was her name.  I imagined her prayers during the final moments before she went to Jesus Land, and the words came out like this:

One more dawn, before I say good-bye
One more night alone, just my friends and I
Do not want to leave this world in darkness
So give me one more dawn

Until You take me, and I rest in Your arms
And throw my crowns to Your feet
Until I breathe my last breath in this world
And drink celestial air

Give me strength, Lord, before I say good-bye
To worship You in my heart, both my friends and I
And as I wait, I’ll rise up like an eagle
I’ve run but I’ve grown weary, I’ve walked, I’m feeling faint

And in this morning light shine
Take the darkness, the veil from my eyes
You bestow Your glory upon me
And You lift up my head, You’re the lifter of my head

Further up!  And further in! Make room for me Lord!
Further up! And further in! Yes I am coming!
Higher up!  Futher in!  I’m running to meet my Maker!
Further up and further in!

One more dawn, before I say good-bye
One more night alone, just my friends and I
Do not want to leave this world in darkness
So thank You for one more dawn

Wonder what my last prayer will be…

Everyday Stuff

Something Not to Say

Almost weekly, I have conversations with long-time friends of mine about some pertinent topic, some relevant cultural trend, or something happening within one of our churches.  It is not rare for us to quickly get talking about theological truth or social awareness, and how the timeless truths of the Bible seem to remain no matter the political or economic landscape of the day.

These chats I have regularly with years-old friends often foster in me a desire to rise up and SAY something to the people around me.  When talking about anchor-truths with close friends, a fire is kindled in my mind and I long to share those thoughts with others, maybe as an encouragement, maybe as a voice chastening, yet loving…

Lately, though, I have been slower to pull that trigger.  It’s not because what I might say could be offensive, although there is that.  It’s not because someone’s feelings might get hurt.  It’s not out of some profound wisdom that has come over me, or a spiritual awakening of some kind.  Really, I find that it’s about being quiet.

For so much of my life I have had opportunity to speak and lead others with words.  So much of that time seems now wasted, because though there was something to be said, there was also something not to say.  Recently I shared three verses with a  young man in my life… it was Ecclesiastes 5:1-3:

1 Guard your steps when you go to the house of God.  Go near to listen rather than to offer the sacrifice of fools, who do not know that they do wrong.

2 Do not be quick with your mouth, do not be hasty in your heart to utter anything before God.  God is in heaven and you are on earth, so let your words be few.

3 As a dream comes when there are many cares, so the speech of a fool when there are many words.

The message in those verses is so straightforward and simple.  And rather quieting.  We all grew up with our mothers saying, “If you don’t have anything good to say, don’t say anything at all.”  I think there’s more to it than that.  Maybe even if there IS something good to say, you still might want to think twice before saying it… especially if you’re saying it to (or about) God.

These days everyone tries to make sure their voice gets heard.  Maybe it’s not utterly critical that we all be heard.  Maybe we’d be more relevant, and even heard  (and maybe more mysterious and intriguing!), if we spent less time trying to be heard, and more time listening.

There are many verses in the Bible that address speech/conduct.  I’ll close the post with this one from James 1:19:

19 My dear brothers, take note of this: Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to become angry

Music, Art, Culture, Books, My Songs

King of Glory, God of Grace

Songs happen to me sometimes, that’s just the way it works.  If you write music or poetry, you probably understand.  There isn’t always a well-planned 7-step process to making a song work.  This is one of those songs.  Through studies and sermons this week, I was reminded that God is at the same time ultimately glorious and ultimately gracious.  It is astounding that the King of Glory, the One true God, the Holy One of Israel, would also be gracious and compassionate, slow to anger, abounding in love.

Tomorrow I’ll be sharing this song during the offertory, and we will perhaps sing it as a congregation the following week.

King of Glory, God of Grace
Words and Music by Chad Voller

Verse 1
You are awesome in this place
King of glory, God of grace
Holy One and precious lamb the same

Commanding conqueror
Yet You save the sons of earth
You’re the Judge and You’re the Giver of life

You gave up the throne of Heaven
Became blood and body broken
Calmed the storm and our raging sea

You spoke the earth and all creation
Sovereign Lord of all the nations
Sent Your Son to Calvary

You are awesome in this place
King of glory………..God of grace

Verse 2
You’re the keeper of the stars
And you mend the sinner’s heart
You have chased us down and caught us in love

We have cursed You with our lips
And betrayed You with a kiss
But You rescued us from death below

We hailed You with a crown of thorns
Pounded ’til the flesh was torn
By Your wounds and stripes we are healed

Lord of all, the King of men
Traded righteousness for sin
Hung upon the rugged tree

You are awesome in this place
King of glory………..God of grace

Bridge
I could never comprehend Your greatness
I could never understand Your love
But I’m falling down to worship
And I’m rising up to praise
The King of Glory, God of Grace

Hiraeth

There Will Be A Day

MOM: “Hi honey.  I just wanted to make sure the dates would work for our upcoming trip when we’re heading your way.  I think it’s in about 4 to 6 weeks, is that right?”

ME: “Well, I can’t remember, I’ll have to check with Dad.  I haven’t talked with him recently, so I’ll follow-up with him.”

MOM: “Ok… well, also, while I have you, can you make sure to get me copies of the 2 sermons you recently did at Denton Bible?  I’d really like to have those.”

ME: “Sure, Mom, I’ll put those on CD for you and get them in the mail for you as soon as I can.”

The above conversation took place in my Mom’s alternate reality and my current reality.  She lives each day in the clutches of a disease that has launched her into another dimension, where time and people and events are all in a jumble.  There were no sermons at Denton Bible.  There is no upcoming visit.  A week or so ago she ran secretively across the street, only to remove 1 of the 2 pairs of socks on her feet, leave it on the neighbors’ electrical box, and complete her stealthy, secret ops. style run back to Dad’s side on the porch.

Earlier today I spoke with her about the fact that she was getting ready for a trail-ride.  Having just come in from a stroll around the block, she made it clear that she needed to hurry off the line and get dressed for the event.  I told her that sounded like fun, and hoped she had a good time.

When I am caught off guard in this matrix, it takes my breath away, and it is all I can do to keep from weeping wherever I am at the moment (Wouldn’t go over too well in our weekly admin meeting at the office).  Today’s phone call with Dad was hard, for sure.  Mom is currently convinced that she’s married to someone else.  Dad isn’t allowed to come in the bedroom or be intimate in any way with her.  He’s not even allowed to call her by familiar names, like “Honey,” or “Babe.”  Can’t imagine Dad not being permitted to call Mom “Babe.”  That was the classic name he had for her while we were growing up.

The breath-knocking wind hit me hard in the gut.  Mom’s gone.  Dad has lost her for good now.  She just isn’t there anymore.  Didn’t even have a chance to say goodbye, even though I talk to her every day.

Then tonight I remembered the name of the song Matt wanted help with this Sunday.  It’s called “There Will Be a Day,” by Jeremy Camp.  Since I like his music, I decided to just buy the whole album.  Been playing the song several times through.  It has a good grip on my heart tonight… He quotes from Revelation 21:4 for the main refrain in the song… “He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.”  Here’s a part of the bridge into the chorus that is pounding over again in my ears…

I can’t wait until that day where the very One I’ve lived for always
Will wipe away the sorrow that I’ve faced
Oh to touch the scars that rescued me from a life of shame and misery
Oh this is why, this is why I say

There will be a day with no more tears
No more pain, no more fears
There will be a day when the burdens of this place
Will be no more, we’ll see Jesus face to face

She mentioned to me the other day, “Maybe it would be easier for everyone if I just got hit by a truck.”  I told her that easier isn’t always better, and many people have felt that way before.  If I got hit by a truck, it would be easier, because I’d be with Jesus and wouldn’t have any more worries.  But it would leave a gaping hole in the lives of the people closest to me in this world.

I know you’re not going to read this, Mom, but just know that no matter what happens, you lived a good life and you are loved.  There will be a day when all of these shadows will run from the light of the Morning Star, and all will again be clear.  We will see each other again, and we will know fully… nothing in the way of our thoughts, nothing in the way of our love.  I hope you get to go on that trail ride in your mind.

Everyday Stuff

What’s That Noise?

Our little boy has been making lots of progress over the past few weeks.  Verbally, he has come so far, I can hardly believe it.  When we first “got” him (he is a foster child), all he could do was point and grunt.  The car ride was filled with calls of, “Momma!, Momma!” accompanied by a pointing finger.  If he wanted something at meal time, “Eh-eh, eh-eh,” and the finger again.

Lately, though, he has been making many new sounds.  He says things like “Upstairs” and “Downstairs,” and occasionally he runs into the room and blurts out a sentence of complete and utter nonsense.  This may be my favorite time to listen to him.  There is usually an intense look on his face, and amazing child expressions as he tries to get all the words out in the right order.  There is learning there, there is sound there, and there is something precious there on its way out.

One of my favorite (and sometimes least favorite) things he says is, “Daddy, help me.”  I LOVE it that he asks for help instead of trying to do everything on his own.  Although, at times I know he can do the task he’s asking for help with, so I encourage him to keep trying on his own.  “You can do that, buddy, keep trying, don’t give up on it.  Come on, remember you did that yesterday, first you…” and the instructions continue.  At times I am not patient enough with him, and I forget that he is just 2 years old.

So, what’s that noise in your life?  In my life, it’s the sound of a little boy growing up and learning about the world, about life, about pain, about love, about running, about cars and trucks, about rain and spiders, about pizza and oranges, about songs and friends, about loss and longing… I think I like that sound.

Hiraeth

The Aching May Remain

"It’s enough to drive a man crazy;
it’ll break a man’s faith
It’s enough to make him
wonder if he’s ever been sane
When he’s bleating for comfort
from Thy staff and Thy rod
And the heaven’s only answer
is the silence of God

It’ll shake a man’s timbers
when he loses his heart
When he has to remember what broke him apart
This yoke may be easy, but this burden is not
When the crying fields are frozen by the silence of God"

The above are the opening lyrics in a song by Andrew Peterson.  Recently I purchased a couple of his albums on iTunes with the gift card my brother Kirk gave me for Christmas.  Toward the end of the song he says, “… the aching may remain, but the breaking does not, in the holy lonesome echo of the silence of God.”

I seem to have given the answers before I asked the questions.  This post is an observation on brokenness, as I have been mulling for days, maybe weeks on the topic.  Haiti is the poster-child for a world in pieces… lives snuffed out, children fatherless, sick and diseased people wandering in the streets.  They are all alone in the huge mobs.  Hurt, pain, and loss mar the landscape of the backwards country – everything that is wrong with this world.

When I turn my gaze homeward, the brokenness has a different mask but it is there.  It is there in the lives of my friends who have lost children.  It is there in my mother who has lost her mind to Alzheimer’s.  It is there in the hurting, wounded stack of friends at church.  It is there in the life of our foster son, who has lost his birth parents and now lives a state-run life.  It is there in the lives of my co-workers, who put all their trust in having a job, only to see the company leaders soak up all the glory and credit for themselves.  Empty, meaningless, vain.

There is love beyond measure, to be sure.  But singing songs to the hurting is like pouring vinegar on a wound… it doesn’t feel real good.  So when our cries go out and the sky remains quiet, and the small voice inside has closed for the evening, what IS the answer?  When God is silent, what are we to do?  What are we to think?

I don’t suppose I know the perfect answer there, but I do know one thing that at least gives me some measure of comfort.  It is that picture of Jesus, alone in the garden, crying out, waiting for an answer… yet willing to do the Father’s will.  Weeping, alone, in the dark, in the silence.  The Savior knows what it is like.

Everyday Stuff

On Writing Letters

The other day at the office, I missed an opportunity to go to the post office.  A work friend stopped by my desk and mentioned she had just returned from the post office, and I said, “Oh, man! I was going to mail this today,” and I pulled a Moleskine journal out of my computer bag.  My friend, Tommy Brooks, and I write to each other using this journal.  Yeah, it’s old school, and it’s different, but I think it’s really cool.

One of us writes a letter, just writing in the journal… then mails the notebook to the other guy.  As you quickly noticed, we will have a bunch of letters to each other together in the notebook when all is finished.  Who gets the notebook when it’s done?  I don’t know, but I know between me and Tommy that won’t be an issue.  It has already been a good experience for me, and we just started the process!  He wrote me, sent the journal, now I’m writing him and will send the notebook soon.

This reminds me of a time when I used to write letters almost daily.  My two freshman semesters of college, I wrote over 100 letters.  Can’t you just send email?  Can’t you just instant message?  Well, it isn’t a matter of ability, it’s a matter of choice.  There is something drastically different about receiving a physical something in the mail to read than in getting just another email.  Even if it is a long, nice email, drawn out with pictures and links.

You can’t curl up with an email.  You can’t get away from an electronic device with an email.  You can’t hold an email.  You can’t touch an email.  It takes more time to write a letter, and hence more thought.  It takes a different movement of the mind and hand, and more effort to send.  In the end, it is more rewarding for me, too, because it feels like something has been accomplished.  Later, I can go back to it, without opening my computer or iPhone… no browser or application required.

Writing letters is an exercise in thought and love.  My sincere desire is to retain 2 to 4 pen pals throughout my life.  There is a sharpening of the mind and an enlarging of the heart that accompanies the writing of letters.  And I get to practice my handwriting.  🙂

Anybody can writer an email.  Not just anyone is willing to write a letter.

Music, Art, Culture, Books

North! Or Be Eaten

Do you remember reading your favorite adventure books as a child?  When was the last time you sat down and re-read one of those treasures?  If it’s been a while for you, you’ll find a stunningly fun and exciting journey lies ahead in the dangerously wonderful fantasy land of Aerwiar.  And, of course, I’m a sucker for any fantasy book with a Tolkien-esque hand-drawn map in the beginning!  :-)  After reading this tale of adventure, I am going to have to start from the beginning and read book one: On the Edge of the Dark Sea of Darkness.

This second book of Andrew Peterson’s Wingfeather Saga, North! Or Be Eaten brings a terrific childlike whimsy back into our lives with a story of adventure, travel, peril and friendship.  The suspense is real when, at one point, Janner climbs down a hole into a chamber, strikes a match and meets someone terrifying, “Her hand touched his foot, and Janner tried to scream, but his voice made no sound.  The stars burst into fiery colors, and he had the sensation of falling slowly upward and into the dreadful, silent well of space.”

To learn what happens to Janner, Podo, Tink, and the rest of the ragged band, you’ll have to pick up a copy for yourself. Enjoy!

Everyday Stuff

So Much Like Martha

6 Jay Drive, Randolph NJ.  That was our address when I lived in Jr. High.  We lived on a steep road, and our house had a steep driveway.  The summers were hot and the winters were cold.  I had to walk to the end of our street in the morning to catch the bus and walk up the street on the way home.  Me and Justin Fay played outside until it was dark or time to come in for dinner.  There was no Internet back then.

The first computer our family had was purchased when we lived there on Jay Drive.  It cost more than I care to disclose and required 5 1/4” floppy disks simply to boot up.  I only remember 3 programs from that computer… Sopwith, Typing Tutor, and Basic.  I am certain there were other applications on the many disks we had, but those are all I remember at the moment.

Why do I bring these items to the fore?  I think it’s because I’m looking for something simple, and life then was simple.  Get up, get ready for school, eat breakfast, go to school, come home, play, eat dinner, hang with family, go to bed.  It didn’t seem like there was really that much information available at the time.  But things have changed, and that’s all different now.

To say information exists in abundance today would just be a truism.  The idea of a simple life has been so far left behind that it is difficult to contrast the two in any meaningful fashion.  Today the volume of information is overwhelming.  The sheer amount of data causes my head to spin.  And that’s just in my little corner of the world.  The info. comes from so many sources at such velocity… and here’s the thing – it takes up space.  It takes up mental space, spiritual space, emotional space, and spiritual space.

Lately the amount of information is getting to me.  Internet news, blog feeds, emails, twitter, facebook, newspapers, bills, menus, flyers, bulletins, texts, voice mails, proposals, quotes, reminders, calendars, task lists, meetings, files… I get tired just putting this stuff down in a post.

I hear a still small voice inside my head, “Come to Me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest…”  I think this post is simply a cry from my heart longing to listen more closely to that voice, to spend more time sitting at the feet of that Voice, instead of listening to so many of the other voices that surround me.  Instead of allowing the waves of earthly information drown me, I should focus on swimming in the ocean of heavenly truth.  So much like Martha, but I want to be like Mary.

Everyday Stuff

Can You Smell What The Blog Is Cooking?

It is about that time again… time for me to revamp the blog and press on into my dabblings in web design.  My blog is most often the victim of my design splurges (or maybe I should call them ‘urges’).

So, let the good times roll, and here’s a test post for you to chew on.  Can’t you just smell the unique blend of herbs and spices?  Enjoy!