Don't Squander the Wander!

Cease striving.

The world has an abundance of clanging cymbals.

It takes time to show the Father’s love. Slow down! Enjoy the ride. Wander. Rest. Abide.

If we believe that everything kingdom-minded is diametrically opposed to the rat race of the world, then why do we continually find ourselves marching to the beat of that televised parade band sound? Just another row of noise, following behind the rest. In step. One after another, notes and notoriety wafting up to the sky, mixing together into an unidentifiable stream. When unified, the tune reverberates in our bones and makes us feel alive. But who gets the praise for the performance? How long does it last?

Criticism is never far behind. No matter how enamored we once were. Did they get the note right? Oh look, somebody is out of step with the rest. Why on earth did they choose such a uniform? Who leads? Why? How? On and on. Armchair conductors clamoring on about how it could have been better.

Take those same instruments, and place them in the hands of the unexperienced. The novice. Never been to a recital, don’t know what to wear, let alone where their fingers need to be placed on these intimidating tools to bring the correct notes airborne. Yet they are full of passion. And nervous.

Short of breath, while needing to take a deep breath to bring forth concert music with all their might. Practice hasn’t quite made perfect; still learning to read the notes printed on the page. All the newbie can do is look to the conductor for direction, and try to find the right next note. Focused on finger placement and timing. Executing their note. Not someone else’s, and not Beethoven’s fifth. Just the next zip in the flight of the bumblebee or some such thing. Buzz, little bee, buzz.

When we hear someone who is out of tune, or seems unpracticed, our flesh evaluates according to the world’s standards. Parents swoon, but those with no connection roll eyes and reach for headache medicine. Loving fathers in the crowd record this moment for future family memories.

Remember that time? You did so good! Look how far you’ve come. Everyone has to start somewhere….love. just love.

I wonder what God sees as He looks down from His throne. Friend, I propose He’d rather a million first time students playing with passion and purpose, focused and nervous. Not the best symphony out there serenading us to the Fourth of July pyrotechnic display, with master musicians never personally connecting with the crowd.

Bear with me, sometimes I think the Lord’s favorite band member is the one who marches to her own tune. Not a tune unknown by the Father, but the tune created by the Father. His heartbeat. His truth. The drummer who is motivated and trained by the One who wrote the notes. In perfect tune with the God of all Creation.

This connected one is much like a simple springtime little girl, laying on her back in the middle of a dandelion field. Peeking up at the sky, imagining dragons and daylilies in the forms of the clouds.

Oh, look what I see! Do you see it?

Daydreaming of love and singing Jesus Loves Me. The little girl who is always too happy. Unmoved by the curmudgeon’s comments. The little one with wrinkled clothes, wild hair, and a grin for miles, who doesn’t yet know the ways of rotten people and misplaced motives. She wanders and wonders and ponders and listens. She hears the Spirit’s call and enters into His rest.

There she is, resting in the purity of the world God created, and full of joy. Unmoved by the clanging of man. Smiling.

Joy like this cannot be faked. Nor can it be contained. It spills out. It impacts. Whether in a conversation, humming, singing, laughing, or acting in ways of random kindness, the love of God pouring out in pure joy is unmistakable. Communication is pure. It connects. It sees. It listens. It dreams.

Curmudgeons of this world can’t stand it. Go away. Be quiet. You are too unruly. You don’t play by the rules. Get in line. Just stop. And just like that, joy is squelched. The world creeps in and chokes out the love of God we once knew. If we let it.

What does a joy-filled heart do in response? Can’t. Won’t. Don’t know how. Gonna go back to the simplicity and joy of communing with God in the field of dreams. I’ll follow His lead and open my world up to those He puts in my path. The ones who need a few dandelion wishes and an eternity of Bible promises.

Sound far too poetic for the likes of you and me? Remember where the world is trying to rip us away from! That place where the joy of the Lord dwells is the same field the world tries to fumigate, because someone deemed beauty as an invasive weed.

Destroy in the name of lesser things. Heaven forbid the dandelion turns white, and has the nerve to spread its seeds! Better get it before it spreads. Remove unexpected color so the sod we placed on top can green up again. Gotta be green or it ain’t right. Well, green with envy it is indeed.

Girls full of joy either get squelched with the seasons, or they finally learn the key to abiding in the Lord. Joy remains when we no longer allow anyone to steal it away. God never told us to give the enemy authority to choose for us. The world has done that. The enemy spreads those seeds of untruth. Over and over.

God says there is fullness of joy in His presence.

The Lord says to make a joyful noise.

Jesus has given us a hope and a future.

The Holy Spirit will bring peace and joy.

Joy belongs to the Lord, and those who slow down long enough to experience His peace and goodness. We can’t do that when we are striving to be and do everything all the time. We miss it altogether when we focus on grabbing every coat tail, saying yes to every job, and asserting ourselves into someone else’s calling.

Cease striving. Put the cymbals down. Stop clashing and banging your way to the top.

Love the Lord. Let Him guide your steps. Learn to say no to things that were never assigned to you.

This is the pure way of faith, the abiding life of a believer.

Sometimes, this means embracing the simplicity of relaxing among the weeds of life and humming a tune of love.