Vinyl records are made by cutting grooves or ruts into the vinyl. The record (at this point called a lacquer) is placed on the cutting machine where electronic signals from the master recording travel to a cutting head, which holds a stylus or needle. The needle etches a groove into the record that spirals to the center of the circular disc. The imprinted lacquer is then sent to a production company, where it is coated in metal, such as silver or nickel, to create a metal master.
Our lives also operate in grooves. We operate a certain way, day after day after day. Sometimes our grooves — our habits, our ways of being — create beautiful music. Sometimes our grooves are more like ruts — they create sounds that are less inviting, even harsh.
Lent is a season in which we are invited to break out of the ruts we may have fallen into, by changing up our habits, and acknowledging that our lives, by God’s grace, do not have to fall into ruts that are etched in metal or stone.
We can be changed.
Invitation:
Grab a record, feel its edges, its grooves, its texture. Imagine the music it creates. Consider your own present practices:
— what are the grooves that create music? How can you nourish them?
— what are the ruts that you would like to get out of? Consider ways you can change your present practices. What are new grooves you could create? What space might open up if you change a current habit?
Records
Prayer:
God thank you for this life you given me.
I cherish the music you have allowed me to hear, as well as to create.
Forgive me for the ruts that increase the chaotic noise of the world.
Free me to live into grooves of grace that create beautiful music.
Music that sings of you.
In Christ, Amen.
A lot of feedback from my latest post, Losing Our Religion.
One that I found of particular interest was from Randy Buist, a graduate of Calvin Seminary and someone who grew up in the Christian Reformed Church, but a decade ago or so, decided to leave. He said much that I resonate with, and am reposting it here because his was one of the last comments made and it is worth reading to get a perspective on one person who felt that —for the sake of the kingdom— leaving the institution outweighed the benefits of staying. Give it a read and let me know what you think.
We had about a dozen people at Pub Theology last night over at Right Brain Brewery in the Warehouse district.
There's nothing like coming in from the cold in Northern Michigan to a good brew and good conversation with friends and strangers!
An Irishman moves into a tiny hamlet in County Kerry, walks into the pub and promptly orders three beers.
The bartender raises his eyebrows, but serves the man three beers, which he drinks quietly at a table, alone.
An hour later, the man has finished the three beers and orders three more....
Today's post is a poem written by Jack Ricchiuto, inspired by a recent conversation at Pub Theology DC.
A short poem. It came out of a question that emerged for me from last night, somehow: what if God was approached by people who want access to heaven and hell to bring love to those they loved in their lifetime here? Enjoy.
Improbable Souls
Angels dart glances on the rare occasion
Where God sits in speechless reflection
On a new request, never uttered by the
Billions before, the seemingly simple request
To have dual citizenship, bilateral passports
Into heaven and hell
THE WESTMINSTER SHORTER CONFESSION famously says that the “chief end of man is to glorify God and enjoy him forever.” This classic theological assertion is held with conviction by many in the Reformed tradition and beyond. God created us to give him glory.
It is often assumed that the way we glorify God is through worship. And worship is often understood as: singing songs on a Sunday morning, hearing a sermon, and drinking some stale coffee afterward.
