Washed by a River

I've become addicted to the Jars of Clay album, Good Monsters. I don't particularly care for the cover art -- a bit creepy, really -- and I have to confess that as much as I love the written word, I find that when artists get really artsy with it, it kind of flies over my head sometimes, as if all meaning is lost in the effort to create "art." I'll find that a particular song will strike me -- primarily through the melody -- and when I reach for the liner notes and lyrics, I find myself saying, "Whaaaat??" Sometimes.

We're having guests over for dinner tonight -- our new youth pastor and his wife, whom we've been dying to connect with -- and this gives us the perfect excuse to scour our house. Trust me -- I actually welcome this. So this morning, as I was cleaning away, I put Good Monsters into the CD player (don't worry, Jacie -- I will return this soon! I'm hoping it will appear for my birthday, but maybe not this year) and really tried to listen to the lyrics. I love many of the songs on this album, but one in particular washed over me -- quite literally, pun quite appropriate. I couldn't help but feel that, once again, this was one of those God-moments, connecting once more to this "water theme" and letting go and trusting God ... The water metaphors in particular seem to be everywhere these days, and it's so fitting. Here's what they sing:

There Is A River

There is a river that washes you clean
There is a tree that marks the places you've been
Blood that was spilled, although not your own
For all of your tears are the wages for things you've done

And all of those rights
Spent alone in the darkness of your mind
Give it up, let go
There are things you were never meant to shoulder

So give up the right
To control the waves that empty out your life
Above wild skies
Are the waves that break the shadows we design

Give it up, let go
There are things you were never meant to shoulder
Give it up, let go

I know the world can turn in different ways
Most of the time we're simply hanging on
And under the signs of how we all behave
We might find the place that we belong

For all of those nights that you cried all alone
All of your tears, love will atone

I love these words -- "Give it up, let go, there are things you were never meant to shoulder." I can't control these waves that crash -- why do I think I have the right to do so? "The waves that break the shadows we design" -- how much more anxiety, more fear, more weight to bring upon our selves by this "right" for control? There are indeed things we were never meant to shoulder.

This fits right in, once again, with this path of understanding I'm on. The waves keep coming, keep crashing, despite our prayers for a reprieve -- just a few days ago we found out that Don might be losing his job now at the end of March. That wave was a big one -- a pay cut is one thing; complete job loss is quite another. But you know, I found that I didn't drown in that wave, in that moment; I didn't crumble into a heap of fear. I felt an odd sense of calm in the middle of that storm. Maybe I'm just getting used to these screaming squalls. But I thought to myself, "God knows we're in this tossing boat. I do believe God lead us here, that this is all part of the journey. He hasn't stopped providing for us; what makes me fear that he's going to bail on us now? If Don loses his job, well ... I have no idea what we'll do. But maybe that's the whole point -- there's nothing we CAN do. Except ... trust."

It's a hard one, for sure -- this giving up and letting go. It's exhausting to almost force myself to remember God's goodness to us. It's crazy, I know -- it seems ironic. But here we are, in the middle of the pounding, relentless waves. It's a good thing I've got a CD player on my little tossed boat so I can listen to these words that speak volumes.