Like a Thorn in my _________ !

This is the third year that I have been a soloist for The Thorn, New Life's 700-member Easter production.  The show doesn't change much from year to year, which speaks to the excellence of the script and screenplay (Thanks Rob and John).  But having performed these same songs for several years, and having heard them since I was in grade school, it's easy to let this passion play become a routine, or worse - a show.

On one level or another, it begins this way like clockwork every year.  Word comes around that rehearsals are starting, that the martial arts team has already been at work for months in the gym perfecting angel sized muscles, and that the set is making it's way from ideas on paper to massive constructions of wood and steel.

My first year, it was easy to be swept up in the hype of the production, being involved on any level felt like an amazing privilege, and I was just blessed to play any part at all.  The second year, it became easy to be a little complacent and feel almost... entitled.  Believe it or not come year three, it can even feel like an obligation.

Honest, yes - but my intent is to expose the gunk that nearly crept in.

This is a time in my life when establishing boundaries and time management habits is crucial.  With a baby on the way, and our young marriage still on the front burner of my mind, drawing clear lines between what I do and who I am has never been more important or difficult.  The irony is that I was drawn to ministry not only for the significance it would add to my life, but because I wanted to raise a family in it.  But I'll keep that discussion for another time - it deserves it.

I'm realizing the Thorn is a type of marker for me.  Each year as I participate, and a huge burden is placed on my time and energy for a brief season, it's all too easy to become cynical and jaded.  In fact, that is the natural result!  But that's the greatest danger of all.  I've learned that my innocence of heart is worth protecting at all costs.  And it's not just the Thorn; all ministry threatens to blur the lines of work and family, counseling and recreation.  As this two week season of non-stop nightly rehearsals in both Colorado Springs and Denver beats down - if I'm not vigilant - the joy of the performance can vanish, and the joy of ministry become tarnished.

I'm a part of a quartet that sings "The Glory of the Blood" during the moments immediately after the crucifixion.  Watching the drama of Jesus reach it's zenith, I'm blessed each time to relive the wonder of the greatest miracle ever.  The sinless death that made a way, the doubt the disciples must have felt in the darkest days afterward, and the hope that held them together (Matthew 20:19) in the midst of apparent total defeat become real again.  And it's that moment that continues to refresh my soul - that helps me remember the reason for everything I'm doing - and gives glorious context to the fatigue I happen to be feeling at the moment.

(C) Ted Mehl, Thorn 2010

Thank God for his blood, shed for me - and his resurrection that made a way for life abundant.  These are the days I realize anew the truth that I'm bound to this man Jesus and what he did for me - and spreading that truth with all I am and do.

True Grit

In September of last year, as the lease on our first place was about to expire, Jo and I began to consider a move.  The rent was high and increasing at the apartment complex we had shared our first year at, and as we began to look around and consider our options and stage of life - we started to think living downtown would be a fun experiment.  You can read more about our first-hand experience here.


After all, we didn't have any kids!  It was just us - and we could afford to live a risky, grittier life - right?  Famous last words!

Lately, I've been thinking more about the idea of "gritty" living.  Linked with a loss of control (read here for more on that), I'm meaning things we've all experienced - but 'a particular attraction to' weeds, dust, cracked pavement, tilting foundations, artificially faded and tinted photos, independent films like Once, guitars with 'play-holes' in them, simple bands like Sigur Rós, used furniture, clouds, rain, hand-me-down scarves, designer jeans meant to look 20 years old and bicycles that really are.


Though I've never observed it before, the season of Lent has lent (couldn't help that one) itself to a certain growing connection in my mind.  I've realized that the world around me, downtown specifically, was growing in it's decay.  A strong word, but I mean come on people - I'm from the suburbs!  I'm used to manicured lawns, cookie cutter houses, immediate fixes to cracked drywall, following the cookie cutter style around me, and obsession with the newest and latest.  Now instead of seeing this 'particular attraction to' gritty living as a cultural phenomenon or generational trend, I've begun to see it from a more distinct perspective.


Observing Lent helps us to remember our finiteness.  We give up something in order to be reminded of our place in the cosmos, and to become more reliant on Christ.  Just the way each of us sometimes fills the heart-need to worship with something foreign and ill-fitting besides God, so I see this grit 'attraction.'  Although humanity as a whole is bent on dominion and exploitation, it would seem there is also something deep in us that wants to be finite, limited and out of control.


This grit-love points us towards the limitations of our world, the curse it is under, and the redemption that has already begun in the hearts of Christ's followers.  See it that way, from the side of eventual complete redemption and rebirth, and you begin to appreciate the beauty of a decrepit and failing system that points in every way toward a God who will make all things new again.


Although Jo and I love the vibe of downtown, the dust of lead paint chips around our windowsill is still cause for alarm and will quite likely push us out of our current abode with a newborn child!  I'm not about to go plant weeds and would still love a new bike.  Though I'll still plan on doing my part to bring order to things, I'm choosing to embrace the grit of life, to proclaim the truth of decay, and to celebrate the ruin of our present reality.  For each ruin will only stand to shape our understanding of the victory that has already begun!


And yes, I listened to Sigur Rós and Hammock while writing this blog.

It has come to this:

I have arrived.

That is, I've come to the place of being quite frustrated with my own attempts at being pithy, tart and smart.  Working towards an exposition of various ideas have recently left me in the lurch of of my own exceedingly high expectations!  Curses and thwartations!

Thwart-a-tions /thwahrt-A-shuhns/ - noun
1.  a terrific annoyance or disappointment
2.  an occurrence or situation bereft of success
    "Due to unending thwartations, his plans were utterly foiled."

Ever have that happen?  Word just cease to flow, and you end up babbling on about something or other - In conversation perhaps?  Someone you would have no doubt liked to impress with your whit and charm and instead you "open mouth, insert foot"?  No, I'm not really describing a recent or even real situation.  Though I've been there, no specific memory comes to mind worth the retelling here.

And at just a moment when I needed to be quite eloquent about something in particular (though I'm not sure what) in order to have the faintest impression that my own time was invested and not squandered as I work on this vague and tenuous practice of writing - nothing really comes to mind.  *sigh.

And yet somehow, the very completion of this brief and rather upsetting blog has left me with at least a small satisfaction at completing something!  Yet on the one hand, I can breathe deeply and know the seeming unending writers block has released me if only for an instant - long enough to compose something with perhaps an iota of potential at making someone somewhere pause with a wry smirk of delight.

Did it work?