Generational Grace

It's no secret that this year at home has been very VERY hard for me.  This weekend was the first time I went back up to Tallahassee after graduation.  Everyone was asking "So how are you?" and with my friends - my sweet, wonderful friends - that means, "tell me about your heart.  right now."  So I had to tell people, "I'm okay.  it's been hard.  three jobs in as many months that I've lost.  but I'm okay." Only I had just gotten fired.  So I wasn't really okay, but I was trying to be, and I wasn't letting myself think about how scared, how hopeless, and how angry I was.

I let myself have a moment on Friday night, with my mom in the car.  I questioned God's motives.  I questioned God's presence in my life.  Cause I have friends who seem to get everything, and I mean EVERYTHING they want or would like to have from God.  And I can't see why God favors them over me for His blessing.  Please notice here the sin of comparison and discontent - I'm SO good at this, guys.  Favorite sin. I questioned God's faithfulness to me.  I never really doubted, but sometimes I just have to let those things out.  I felt like Job - so much like Job.  I was scolding God through my mom, but really I just wanted God to come down from heaven and tell me He is who He says He is.  to prove it isn't just words on a page.  I'm somewhat lucky He didn't decide to prove it by striking me with lightening this weekend.  There was plenty of opportunity.

Anyway, to the point of this post.  Which is basically external processing.  During my fit of jealousy and hopelessness, God did remind me of who He is and what He is doing in my life. 

I went home (actually to my sister's house...) after meeting with some sweet and very dear friends and found out I had lost yet another job through no fault of my own.  That was the breaking point.  I couldn't handle this anymore.  I held it in as long as I could, but eventually that moment in the car with mom happened.  The rest of the evening was spent in complaining and whinging and basically being as morose as I could be again, I'm pretty good at that kind of thing.

Then I woke up Saturday.  I had breakfast with a woman who cares about me, who always tries to help me see beyond my situation and look to Jesus.  I didn't want to, but women you respect and who you know well have a way of making you do what you don't want to do in such a way you don't mind doing it.  I followed breakfast with a meeting with a woman I had mentored and cared for.  This beautiful, sweet woman cared for me without even knowing she was.  She ministered directly to my broken and aching heart by showing me God had used me in her life.  I wasn't even interested in taking the credit - God had done everything.

So I was feeling a little better.  But I was still not up to praising God again or recognizing His power at work in my life.  This was hers - He was working in her.  not in me.  So despite the enormous blessing of seeing the second of the three girls I mentored for a year or more in a more grown-up and spiritually mature place than when I met her, I still didn't see what God was telling me.  Despite the admonition I'd received from my mentor to be attentive.

Then everything changed.  That night, at my sister's AMAZING recital and a dear friend's equally astonishing recital (same recital, two star performers...) my third beautiful and amazing disciple came to me, and introduced the girl she was mentoring.  Christine, the lovely, wonderful girl I was meeting for the first time, looked at me and said "So you're my spiritual Grandma, right?"

At that moment it was like I'd entered the twilight zone and everything stood still.  I processed a ridiculous amount all at once, flashing back to a meeting I'd had with my girls (each separately) explaining the idea of discipleship and spiritual generations.  I took them to Isaiah 54 and showed them the verses that I believed God had used to promise me spiritual generations.Isaiah 54:1-5

In the midst of my craziness, God was telling me He was fulfilling promises still.  And He continued.  On Sunday I met Carrie, and understood my tent is becoming very large indeed.  And it's all God.  For God, through God, with God, by God.

And I have very little left to complain about.

Co-op Farming - the importance of community to a Christian lifestyle

Poor guy - he's really kinda irrelevant in the whole process

While reading this morning, I came across an interesting fact.  In farming, human work and care only has about 5% to do with the crop that actually comes up.  Which is interesting to me.  So many other factors have to be present, or the best care in the world can't achieve any kind of fruitful harvest.  There has to be so much potassium, so much nitrogen, and so many other things already existing in the soil - the farmer can't really put them there.   Then there's climate.  Only so much rain, only so much sun, only so many cold spells, only so much heat.  It's really kind of exhausting to think about all the work that goes in and how it only matters a small percentage.  This is why I'll never EVER be a farmer. 
The context of my reading had to do with the parable of the Sower, in Matthew 13:1-23.  You know the story - the one where Jesus is talking about the Word of God as a seed.  Anyway, at the end He tells about the seed that fell in good soil, and how it produces 30-100 times that of the other seeds.

I began to think about the soil in my own heart - wondering what condition it was in, what I could do to improve the conditions in my heart.  I began to think about what kind of fruit I was producing.  And I was comparing fruit not only of discipleship, but also fruit of the Spirit.  You know, from Galatians 5 (and that really fantastic Steve Green kid's song...) where it talks about "love, joy, peace, longsuffering, kindness, goodness, gentleness and self control"  (which I only ever remember because of that song...).  I began to wonder what other things contribute to the growth of fruit in my own life.  What are the climate and soil conditions that influence the size of my harvest?  What kind of fruit have I grown, and what can I do to grow the rest?

The main thing I can come up with is that it's this whole community farming idea.  To produce certain fruit, it will be better if you surround yourself with certain nutrients.

Warning: I'm gonna get real here.

I'm gonna go ahead and say that I've grown some love, some patience, kindness, and goodness already.  I have been told by others they're there.  I'm seeing some longsuffering starting to bud as well as some self-control.  Peace is struggling along.  But I'm really lacking joy in my life.  I am not a very joyful person right now.  Mom and I were discussing it last night.  So, obviously, it needs some help.

So I did a quick investigation about why joy isn't growing well.  Don't get me wrong - there's a little yellow leaf on the joy plant.  BUT it's yellow, it's droopy, and it's just not very healthy.

It might have something to do with the unemployment, the bills to pay, the car-less-ness and a bunch of other stuff that just doesn't seem to be going right.  But I'm a big proponent of the idea that a Christian's joy is not dependent on their circumstances.  A Christian's joy should come out of someplace different.

I want that joy, but I'm feeling so bogged down by my circumstances. I'm trying to look beyond the circumstances and upward to Christ and find my joy in Him, but it's hard on my own when everything is weighing my head down.  And I'm not surrounded by the most joyful people at home.  Cause we're all in the same situation.  We're all stuck.

Some nutrient just isn't to be found in my home soil.

Which means it needs to be brought in by somebody.

That's where this whole idea of co-op farming comes in.  If I'm in community that's paying attention to the way things are going on the farm, they're gonna see that the amount of joy in me is not producing fruit.  They should ask me questions to diagnose the problem: Are you in the Word? yes.  Are you in prayer? yes.  Are you LISTENING to God's voice? trying.  Are you in community? yes. 

A bunch of college kids in a co-op.  Look how joyful they are!

They should probably see what needs to be done.  I'm thinking joy is like mulch - you gotta spread it around a little - especially where people don't want it around and don't produce it on your own.  At first, the un-joy-full person is annoyed.  It stinks.  But then it works its way down into your heart and begins to help that flower bloom, just like the nutrients in the mulch.

But I don't have mulch.  Cue the Co-op idea.  Someone who has it should pile it on! And then, when my harvest comes in, and they need a little of what they helped me produce, I should share what I've gotten.  After all, I am only responsible for 5% of the harvest.  Everything else is God and others used by God to get the results He wants.

Unemployment

(originally started Jan. 14th)

Yesterday at church something interesting happened.  I worshipped.  Not just empty, ritualistic, mainly-cause-it's-right-and-I-owe-it-to-God worship, but heartfelt, soul reviving worship.

At this point, let me say something.  There is nothing wrong with worshiping because God deserves it, if that's all you can muster.  At least you're worshiping.  But my heart has been hungry for something more for a VERY long time.

I've been craving a soul-revitalizing worship experience, where I say words with my heart full, not just with my emptiness of words.  Sometimes, I feel like all I have to give is that empty word worship.  Sometimes, I'm so exhausted that I want to be with God desperately, but my heart just is so heavy that it's hard for me to lift it into God's hands.  And the problem is I've been focused on my problems and my self and how God has to fix it.  And it's sinful.  And I'm broken.  And I would go into this worship with all that weighing on me.

Yesterday was different somehow.

Nothing has changed.  I'm still on the edge of unemployment, with bills to pay.  I'm still inching nearer to my 24th birthday, with nothing really to show for nearly a quarter century of life.  I'm still living at home, failing to be able to care for my self of my sisters who are in similar situations.

But right before I went into worship, I acknowledged something important:

That God knows what He's doing.  He's not let me fail yet, and He's not in the business of letting people fail.

I was talking to one of the ladies in my Sunday School class.  And I was choosing to believe what I was saying.  Not that I didn't believe it before.  I just said it.

I guess sometimes, that whole "confess with your mouth" idea really is essential. 

A Call to Discipleship - Woman to Woman

It's no secret that one of the things that preoccupies my life is contemplating the differences between men and women, and the roles that they occupy.  I believe that when we were created "in His image" as "male and female" each gender was given a specific role, a specific way to tell the world who God is.

I recently had a very dear friend, one of my fab five, comparing her way of ministry to her husband's way of ministry, and somehow feeling like she was coming up short.  I know how she feels.  When I'm doing ministry, I don't want my results to look different from any man's.  And I'm not even comparing myself to someone so specific.  She was concerned that her view on what a disciple-maker is was somehow flawed, even though she feels very convinced of the way she cares for other women.

So I've been poking around.  :)

Interestingly, I'm preparing to pitch an idea for a women's mentoring program at my local church.  And in contemplating the pitch, God instructed me to throw what I considered a curve ball.

My vision for teaching about women's call to discipleship came from Matthew 25:31-46.

read it here (before going on)

Okay, let's get the stuff we're not gonna be dealing directly with out of the way.

Sheep = Believers
Goats = Pretenders

Son of Man = Jesus Christ

Good.  Got that done.  Now in giving the passage a cursory glance, we see that the difference between those separated as "sheep" and those separated as "goats" is not that one produces wool and one produces delicious cheeses.  That would be weird.  The difference is the amount of care provided to others.  Sheep feed the hungry.  Sheep clothe the naked.  Sheep shelter the wanderers.  Goats do not do all of these things.

Now let's dig a little deeper.  I hope that if you are reading this, you consider yourself a sheep.  I hope you think you'd feed, clothe, and shelter the less fortunate in the name of Christ, but yesterday, I delved into a whole new realm of meaning. 
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What kind of hunger are we talking about?  What kind of nakedness?  What kind of wandering?

According to Maslow's heirarchy of needs, one needs to have the physical needs taken care of.  But after those are taken care of, a whole new realm of needs opens up for those enlightened individuals who can discover them.

Spiritual needs.

Every individual on earth is struggles with spiritual hunger, spiritual nakedness, and spiritual wandering.  These needs will always be there, slowly tugging us toward something to fill those needs.  That's where a woman's role in discipleship comes in.

Feed the spiritually hungry.
Clothe the spiritually naked.
Shelter the spiritually wandering.

Interestingly, the Good Wife in Proverbs 31 is shown doing, primarily, actions to address hunger, nakedness, and wandering.

verses 15-16 see her rising early and working hard to provide for her family and her servants
verses 21-22 talk specifically about the clothing she makes
verse 20 sees her providing for wanderers, reaching out her hands to those who need her help.

But she also is shown to do these things on an abstract level.  She "dresses herself" with strength and dignity, she opens her mouth with wisdom and kindness (feeding others).

So this is the role of a woman.  And in Titus 2:3-5 Paul instructs Titus to have the older women teach the younger women these things.  And in teaching the younger women these things, the older women are spiritually feeding, clothing, and sheltering the younger women; they are teaching them to do the same.

This is what a Woman's Way of Discipleship looks like.  Our primary objective should be to feed, clothe, and shelter.  To take care of others.  Men in the bible are consistently giving each other charges, battle plans, and sending each other out.  Women are hanging back, providing the much-needed home defense as the men go out on the offense.  Sure, there are times when roles overlap (like in the case of Deborah in the book of Judges).  But a woman's primary function is to nurture, to care, and to teach.  That's how God made us.  We are not so much the banner careers, or the front line fighters.  We hold down the fort.  Without us it would fall.  And when we do our job, we rock at it.

So this begs the question: Women, are you feeding, clothing, and sheltering?  Are you doing your job?  Or are you leaving the back door open while expecting the men to meeting the battle head-on?

Love Story of a Recovering Sinner

As I was wallowing in my misery the other day, facing a mountain I couldn't climb, I remembered kinda what got me facing the mountain in the first place.  I have this insatiable desire to PLEASE EVERYONE.  no matter the emotional or mental cost to my self.  Living that way is a challenge, to say the least.  But it's exceptionally challenging when you're trying to please God, too.

See I have this idea that I'm not lovable.  So I have to MAKE people love me by being amazing.  I try really really hard.  And most of the time, it works.  People love me.  But then they don't love me for who I am, they love me for how I make them feel, or what I do for them.  So I'm left feeling just as empty as before.  The only love I have is the love I create by making myself indispensable.  oh, THAT's why I'm always busy, stressed out and tired.

This might seem quite all right to you, but it has bigger repercussions.  I can't believe that God loves me for me, either.  I believe He loves me when I'm doing something for His kingdom (like leading Bible Study or doing evangelism) but when I'm NOT performing up to par (like recently).  (Up to par in my head is leading a bible study, praying with other women on a regular basis, basically being a busy Christian woman doing Christian woman things and not having time to think).  So there's this big mountain that I've built between me and God, separating us because of my attitude toward Him.  I can't experience His love completely, and I can't experience His blessings.  Sounds like that whole idea of sin, right?  Oh, right.  Sin.

So yesterday, I was sitting there, in Macy's Taste Bar physically, but mentally I was facing this huge mountain.  I want to be on the other side, to see and experience the beauty and majesty on that side of the mountain.  To set up my tent and just...stay there.  But I can't get there on my own.  No matter how hard I try to make people love me, I can't move that mountain.  And it's getting in the way of the love I want, know is mine, and God wants to give me.

Then, Jesus comes from around the other side of the mountain.  Well, actually, I'm not sure how he got there.  He has this habit of just APPEARING randomly, especially when I'm pouting.

Hey Sweetheart, let me help you move this mountain.

AND like any truly hopeless woman, I said to Him:

Good luck, mister.  I been workin' on this here mountain for far too long.  I just wanna get to the other side, but it's impossible to get there.

Then I turned my back on the man and continued to pout.

ok, so maybe the dialect on that was not characteristic of yours truly, but that's how it's running in my head.

I can do it.  I'll move this whole mountain for you.  Will you marry me?

Excuse me? Run that last part by me again...

I said, will you marry me?

*dramatic pause*  Is this a trick?

 Then He laughs, shakes His head, turns His back, and starts digging.  WITH His bare hands.

Now look, I've known this guy for a long time.  He's really not all that impressive at first.  Short curly hair, dark skin, muddy brown eyes.  Kinda short...although He has great muscle definition.  Probably from digging at mountains with nothing but His bare hands.  We've been friends for a long time - since I was three.  When I was 18 He went from being my childhood friend to being my best friend.  Sometimes we go a really long time without talking - usually because I'm angry or ignoring Him.  We're coming off a stint of not talking for a while, at least not really about anything important.  Story is, I got angry and confused and He didn't tell me His plans, so I figured I'd do things my way.  Then I got into a mess and He saved me from it and I was licking my wounds for a while.  I shifted my focus from my relationship with Him to making His Dad love me despite me. (The fact that He and His Dad are really the same person doesn't necessarily always compute...)

Another reality is I promised to marry this guy a long time ago.  Like, when I was three.  I didn't understand it then, but I promised.  And we were married.  And then, because I didn't really understand what I promised, I got distracted and started not acting like I was married.  Then He pulled me out of a bad situation, and I remembered.  And then I forgot.  And then I remembered.  And then I forgot.  And now He was asking me to marry Him...again.

I turn around to look at Him - this man I married so long ago.  Somehow, watching Him work for me turns a key in some lock in my heart, I got up, and walked over.

Hey, what are you doing?

He smiles.  I take a minute to look at Him again.  His muddy brown eyes are serious, going about his business like it was the only thing that mattered.  I remembered that it was looking into those eyes that always made me feel like I was the only thing that mattered.  But I know Him better than that.  Everyone matters to this man.  His heart is so...pure.  So full of love.  For everyone.  Which makes me feel even more humbled that He would spend this time with me, when so many others need and deserve His time. 

I suddenly am hit by the reality that He's sweating, like His clothes are drenched.  As I'm looking at Him, I also see His hands.  The old scars that have been there since I met Him have opened and started bleeding.  Bleeding badly.

Jesus, You're bleeding.

Yeah, these old scars open up every time I do something like this.

Does it hurt?

Not as much when you're talking to me again.  It's always worth it just to hear your voice.  I wish you wouldn't stop talking to me.  The silence hurts more than these old wounds.

This is silly.  Let me do this.  It's my mess.  My mountain to move.

You already tried, Remember? you can't by yourself.  I have to.  But if you like, you could help me.  We could work on taking apart this mountain together.

Will it hurt?

Yes.  But you won't bleed like I am.  I'll do all the really hard stuff.

Okay.   

We work together in silence.  My hands are all chapped after a while, but it's good to be working with Jesus.  He has this song He sings to make the work go by easier, and His voice is beautiful.  I know a few verses, and the chorus, so I sing with Him when I can, but when I can't I'm content to just listen.  Every once in a while, I make a mistake and He takes over to fix the mess.  I feel awful, but he comes to comfort me, telling me I'm still learning and I'm not expected to be perfect yet.  And I look into His eyes and see no disappointment there, only overwhelming love.  I start to cry and He wipes my tears away.  He holds me comfortingly and kisses my cheek, and we just sit for a while, Him and me.

  You know what?

Nope.  No idea.

I love you.

Jesus, You always say that.    

It's always true.  Yesterday, Today, Tomorrow, Forever.  I'll always love you.

I love you too.

I know.  Just don't forget again, please. 

And then He kisses my cheek again, gets up, starts whistling, and we go back to work.  Trying to move this mountain.
  

Beauty...(It's a theme right now)

I was thinking the other day out loud to my mom, and I was talking about how *beautiful* a certain friend of mine was.  Mom saw a picture, and later said she didn't understand.  not to be rude or anything, Mom thinks my friend is beautiful, but she was expecting the face that launched a thousand ships or something because of the way I talked this girl up.  Her physical beauty is what my mom was expecting to be hit by.  Mom said she was very pretty.

Helen of Troy - or Diane Krueger.  Same difference.

Which made me think today...I have this idea that I'm friends with the most beautiful people in the world.  None of them are supermodels, none of them are Helen of Troy or Aphrodite, or even Iseult, but they're the most beautiful people I know.

Mom has never met most of them.

I've learned and grown through the influence of each of them.  Especially the ones I'm closest to.

I seem to remember being struck by their beauty the first time I saw each of them.  While I'd like that to be true, my mom's reaction made me wonder if I'm remembering right.  I seem to remember thinking all of my friends were the most beautiful woman I'd ever met...no homo.  But for so many women to be the most beautiful woman I've ever met...

I'm beginning to think Helen of Troy wouldn't stand a chance when lined up to my friends.  Because my friends have beautiful hearts. Beautiful, wonderful, feminine hearts that God made knowing I would need women with such good hearts around me.  And while none of them would mind being called the most beautiful woman ever to live in a contest including a few angry goddesses, none of them would trade their current titles as wives, sisters, friends and daughters to the people around them for the world.  Helen of Troy *apparently through no fault of her own, Aphrodite* did.  Sorta.  you'll have to read the story.  How to start an ancient war for dummies.

So, thanks to my beautiful friends.  I think you're all physically the most beautiful people in the world, but also the women with the most beautiful characters I've known.

I feel like I'm not making my point very clear...

Let's think about a practical example of beauty - the Mona Lisa. What's so beautiful about her? She has no eyebrows, her forehead is really a six head, he eyes are kinda close together, and her hair is kinda greasy. She actually looks a little sick now that I think of it.What's captivating about the Mona Lisa is that enigmatic half-smile she greets you with, and the light that DaVinci captured in her eyes. She is inviting. You can't imagine her as a real person with crossed arms and a pout. I can't even imagine her sitting for the portrait with crossed arms. The real Mona Lisa just HAD to be one of those women who treated everyone like a close friend, invited you to tea even when it meant moving her schedule around and made you feel like you were the most important person ever.

As a disclaimer, I don't sit around thinking about how my friends DON'T live up to my idea of beauty...I was making a point.

Beauty that I enjoy, to continue with the definition I gave in my last post about beauty, is the kind which provides rest, which provides some kind of nourishment through contemplation.  And it's not necessarily all wrapped up in the physical attributes of something.  So many times it's about how it makes you feel when you think of it.  It gives you a sense of peace, of awe, and of transcendence.  My friends will continue to be beautiful throughout all time to me.  Because beauty doesn't rest on the absence of blemishes (which I don't seem to remember on my friends anyway...) or how much you weigh or what your laugh sounds like or how you move.  It rests on those qualities which make something enjoyable.

A Discourse about Beauty and Daleks

My sisters are coming home for a visit next week tomorrow! By which I mean, we were expecting them next week but they'll be here tomorrow.  Which, actually, now is today.  Woops. *mental note - I should be cleaning*

In thinking of this I realize - my family always has visitors we're really not expecting.  And most of them are family members we haven't seen in a while.  :) which is great, and lends itself to great stories.  The most recent one is that our cousin Jason came into town on his scheduled visit, but we had forgotten to write down the schedule.  So Jason texted Dad about directions to our house.  Cue mass hysteria.  we had forgotten that he was coming!

But his visit was great, and we had some great conversation.  Which is always nice.  Because I think I was still a little kid last time I saw Jason.  It's nice to finally have grown-up conversations with my grown-up cousins.  Which brings me to the point of this whole thing.  One of our topics was the complete misunderstanding of God on the part of most modern-day thinkers and people in general.

We talked about sublimity - the difference between the Sublime and the Beautiful.  In literary and art and philosophical circles, it's not an unheard of topic.  Philosophers have studied the Sublime aesthetic for a very long time.

Basically what it comes to is this - Beauty makes you feel good.  it's there for enjoyment and pleasure. It inspires contemplation. The Sublime is something different.  The very beauty of something that is truly Sublime is terrifying.  Because that which is Sublime is capable of terrible things - That which makes you long for the experience of the sublime (its beauty) is inherently capable of killing you.  it's like you're a moth attracted to the light dancing from the dew of a spider's web.  You know it's gonna kill ya, but ya can't resist it.  The experience of the Sublime inspires action in response.

The disturbing thing is that we came to the conclusion that our culture has lost the idea of the Sublime.  We think any kind of beauty should be peaceful, should be conciliatory, should bring people together.  But the Sublime has a way of dividing people.  There is not a gray area when one is confronted with the Sublime.  Everything is an extreme.

In consequence of watering down our idea of beauty, our culture has lost depth, vitality and true inspiration.  What's truly tragic is who we have made God into.  Even the church has watered God down from a Sublime being to merely a Beautiful and benevolent benefactor.  The way we worship Him corporately, the way we pray to Him, the way we look to Him takes into account all of His delightful beauty, but subtracts His terrifying glory and power so that we forget we should respond to Him as a Sublime Deity.  That which originally inspired man to worship - the unimaginable power of God combined with his unimaginable Beauty - has been forgotten, and we are left with lifeless worship of dead choruses merely repeating how much we love Jesus.  Like a bunch of drones.  

 

Daleks, from the hit BBC TV series, Doctor Who.  One of my guilty pleasures.

When I worship sometimes, or watch others worshipping, it seems like we're all only going through the ritual - doing what we've been told to do.  It reminds me of some characters from the popular British TV show, Doctor Who.  The Daleks, a race of time-traveling beings whose goal is to become the only life form in the universe because they believe themselves to be superior, constantly chant "Ex-ter-minate. Ex-ter-minate." in a robotic monotone.  The Daleks firmly believe they should kill everything that is not Dalek, because it is not Dalek. They passionately believe in their cause, without having their own inspiration or proper understanding of why they must do what they do.  We may not be out to exterminate all other life forms, but it seems like we're holding on to this form of worship without understanding where the worship comes from.  We do it because we're meant to.  We may even feel something, because we know we're supposed to.  But do we do it because it's the only option left to us when faced by our cultural view (as a Church) of God?

In being confronted with the truly Sublime nature of God, the prophets Daniel, Ezekiel, and John could do nothing but hit the floor and worship.  They saw His beauty, His power, and His glory - and it was too much. It was terrifying, and it was wonderful.  They desired not to leave the LORD, but desired to hide themselves from Him too, because of the power displayed in His Sublime Beauty.  They desired to be close to Him, but knew it was not safe to be close to Him.  Their experience of God was a paradox of sorts.  They loved him so much it hurt, and feared him so much it hurt.  They wanted to be as close to Him as possible, and wanted to be as far away as possible.  They wanted to stay, and yet wanted to leave.

I do have some hope.  When I first began learning about the philosophical idea of the Sublime versus the Beautiful, it was difficult to comprehend.  But there were a few who eventually did - myself, another Christian, and a few Muslim women.  In a class of 250 college students, there were only 5 or so who ever really grasped the idea of Sublime vs. Beautiful - and all of us equated the Sublime with God.  Something Christianity and Islam have in common is this historical fear mixed with longing inspired by the presence and knowledge of God.  And in being confronted with a growing Muslim community in the world (Islam is the fastest growing religion in the United States, proportionately), American Christians are beginning to rediscover the proper response to God.

I encourage you all to read Immanuel Kant's Critique of Judgement: Book 1 and Book 2.  They lay out an idea of Beauty versus the Sublime which, from a Christian perspective, enriches and enhances one's idea of the Character of God.  The Cliffs Notes version might be the most helpful, if you're not interested in translating the philosopher's jargon.  It's not exactly an easy read.  After reading that, and chewing on it for a few hours (...or days), I encourage you to return in your quiet times to Colossians 1:15-23 and contemplate what it says about Christ.  I think it will enrich your relationship with God and your worship experience.