Made Up

There are some who look upon Christians as those who have given up their rational minds in order to believe something that is a legend, unproven, entirely based on emotions. Clearly, they would state, science has told us all we need to know about the life, the universe and everything else, and anything that science cannot fully explain today is simply waiting to be discovered and explained tomorrow. To cling to an old religion is to turn one’s back on those obvious truths and decide to follow fairy tales. 

And yet, regardless of how much science ultimately learns about how things work, it will never be able to fully understand that part of people that makes them act the way they do. The reason I make that statement is that science looks for a biochemical abnormality that might explain why one man hates or kills another, or a behavioral model that gives statistical prediction about it. But raw, “unbiased” science (if such a thing actually exists) cannot explain why one person kills, and why another will give his own life to save another. 

Belief can come out of something that is seen and experienced. I step off the roof, and I will fall. A fact, provable and reproducible. But belief (or “faith”, if you will) can also rise from the degree of trust one places in those sources that teach about that truth. This is especially needed when the truth is something that cannot be observed or reproduced. If the evidence presented about that truth is valid, or those who were first-hand witnesses are trustworthy, then even a truth that cannot be seen with my own eyes can be believed. 

I had to take that stand years ago, when I took my child-like belief in Jesus, and made it an adult decision to live that faith. I found the evidence presented was trustworthy, and the experiences of life since that time have only strengthened that belief. I cannot build a time machine to see and observe the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus, any more than I can use that machine to know that Alexander the Great existed and conquered half the world, many years ago. The evidence is solid, the eye witnesses are believable. In short, I have made up my mind to believe in a truth I cannot touch with my five senses, but which I know nonetheless to be true.

This song by Morgan Cryar is called Made Up Mind, from his 1984 album Keep No Secrets. As I listen to it, I wish I had the ability to create a video to accompany it. The consistent beat is that of a runner, training for his race to win his prize. He runs with the sound of a coming storm in the background, lightening at times illuminating his path. As he runs, he has the certainty that he has made the right choice, that he has no regrets or doubts. Listen, and run that race yourself!

There is a choice we have to make
It’s like a leap we all must take
We must decide for heaven’s sake
While we still have time

I’m choosing Jesus here and now
And see, my hand is on the plow
No looking back is needed now
I have a made up mind

You take a made up mind
You take a steady hand
Take a sure foundation
Then you take a stand

You take a made up mind
You take a steady hand
Take a sure foundation
Then you take a stand

So gird your mind with all that’s true
Take a stand and see it through
Why not burn a bridge or two
And leave the old behind

So this is faith, the great divide
The final fence we cannot ride
And so I choose the righteous side
I have a made up mind

You take a made up mind
Take a steady hand
Take a sure foundation
Then you take a stand

Take a made up mind
Take a steady hand
Take a sure foundation
Then you take a stand

We make up our beds
We make up our face
When we’re late we make up for lost time
We make up a story
While we’re making our case
So i know I can make up my mind

You take a made up mind
Take a steady hand
Take a sure foundation
Then you take a stand

You take a made up mind
Take a steady hand
Take a sure foundation
Then you take a stand

It takes a made up mind
I have a made up mind
I have a steady hand
I have a sure foundation
Then you take a stand

It takes a made up mind
It takes a made up mind
It takes a made up mind
I have a made up mind!

Tags: faith, Morgan Cryar, truth

If you wanted to learn as much as possible about what a brilliant scientist knew, you would read what he had written. If you wanted to know how he did his work, you might visit him in his lab and watch him. But if you wanted to know him on a very personal level, you would try to spend time with him regularly, seeing how he acted, made his decisions, and lived his life. Doing this would make it possible to even predict what that scientist might do or say under certain circumstances. Being close to him on a regular basis is what would make this possible. 

Coming to know Jesus better involves something like this. Spend time getting to know Him: Learn what the Bible teaches about what He did, the words He said, and the actions he took during His life on earth. Spend time with Him in prayer, to hear His heart for you and for those in the world that you care about. As you do this on a regular basis, you find that your actions begin to more closely conform to His example. As with the example of the scientist, it is your closeness to your subject that makes you a better imitator of him. And you will also find as you become close to Him that He meets your needs ever more consistently. 

The next in the series of Don Francisco songs dealing with stories from the life of Jesus is taken from two passages of scripture, Mark 9:14-27 and Mark 5:25-34. The focus of these passages both deal with a miraculous healing that Jesus does for two people, and in both situations, these people have to get closer to Him in order to make it happen. From Don Francisco’s 1976 album Brother Of The Sun, here is Closer To Jesus. As before, the audio Bible version used here is the 2002 dramatized NIV Audio Bible by Zondervan Publishing, read by Steven Johnston.

Well, a woman with a burden of sickness twelve years
Heard that Jesus was coming her way
She didn’t stop to worry ’bout her doubts and her fears
She had to fight for every step of the way

Through the crowds that were pressing around Him
Through the heat and the dust of the road
And when she touched his cloak, God healed her body
He lifted her heavy load

If I can get a little closer to Jesus
Just a little bit closer to Jesus
Just a little bit closer to Jesus
Everything’s gonna be all right

Now a man asked Jesus’ disciples
If they could deliver his only son
From a spirit that threw him into water and fire
But with them it just could not be done

So he called out to Jesus saying “Lord I believe;
Help me in my unbelief !”
Jesus had mercy, He healed his son
He took away all of his grief

If I can get a little closer to Jesus
Just a little bit closer to Jesus
Just a little bit closer to Jesus
Everything’s gonna be all right

Now the story ’bout touching the hem of His garment
Nearly everybody knows
But that woman was healed by her faith in God
And not by Jesus’s clothes

And the boy with the unclean spirit was delivered
When everybody’s faith was gone
When his father cried out, saying “Lord I’m weak!”
And Jesus made his weakness strong!

If I can get a little closer to Jesus
Just a little bit closer to Jesus
Just a little bit closer to Jesus
Everything’s gonna be all right

Now if you want to get a little closer to Jesus
There’s nobody to stand in your way
You don’t have to wait for another disciple
To find the right words to say

‘Cause He is the same, today and forever
No matter what the Devil may do
And if you need a little faith or some more of God’s Spirit
Just ask Him and He’ll give it to you

And you can get a little closer to Jesus
Just as close as you want to to Jesus
Get a whole lot closer to Jesus
Everything’s gonna be all right

And you can get a little closer to Jesus
Just as close as you want to to Jesus
Get a whole lot closer to Jesus
Everything’s gonna be all right

You can purchase this music      from the artist’s web site here.

Tags: Don Francisco, healing, Jesus

The latest two episodes of Full Circle, are available. You can search the iTunes Store for “Full Circle”, and subscribe to them.

Episode #108 includes music from Mylon Lefevre & Broken Heart, Terry Talbot, David Edwards, Larry Norman, Vision, Fireworks, Barry McGuire, Phil Keaggy, DeGarmo & Key, and Petra.

Episode #109 focuses on acoustic music, and includes tracks from Phil Keaggy, Mark Heard, Garth Hewitt, Bob Bennett, Marvin & Gentry, Albrecht & Roley, Michael Card, Honeytree, Dogwood, and Lazarus.

Give the show a try, and if you want to see Jerry continue to do this show, please consider donating to the show at the PayPal link on his web site (see the link to the right).

[Note: This is a piece of fiction. It is not biographical, but it tells the story leading to today’s song in a way that just seemed right to me.]

I pulled my car to a stop on the side of the country road, the gravel crackling in the early morning air. Turning the key to stop the engine, I was aware of the quiet. Road dust stirred up by his tires hung in the air, and then settled.

Dust. That was appropriate. I felt so dry inside that I could be literally full of the stuff. If the doctor tried to take my blood again, he would find just a syringe containing powder. Sighing, I pulled out the keys, pocketed them, and climbed out of the car. I opened up the back door and removed my beloved old battered guitar and worn Bible. I briefly considered locking the car, out of habit learned from living in town, and then decided there was no point, out here so far from potential thieves.

Facing forward, I began to trudge down the road. Ahead, indistinct in the pre-dawn light, I could just make out the grove of trees about a half mile away. This was my destination.

“Our old church building out in the country. That’s where I want you to go”, Pastor Rodney had told me. “It’s quiet, secluded, and a perfect place to ‘wait on the Lord’. Sit there, and just wait for God to speak to you.”

I had protested. “I have prayed, I have read my Bible, I have done all the things that have worked in the past, and it just feels like God is not there. I know He is there, of course, but I’m just flat inside.”

Pastor Rod had persisted. “Your desert. I remember what you’ve told me. But you know I’m right in giving you this advice. You told me something like it three years ago who I was feeling like a prune myself. And I eventually I did come out the other side, and was stronger for it. You will, too, I guarantee. And sitting in that old church, praying and meditating on God’s word, helped me to return to myself in a way that had eluded me for a long time.”

The grove of trees were getting closer. I kicked at the little gravel ridges as I walked, raising small dust clouds that quickly dissipated. This was something I hadn’t done for – how long? Ten years? Fifteen? Probably not since I took the girls on a walk around grandad’s farm up near Creighton, that year before he passed away. They were in grade school then, and now Cheryl had a baby of her own.

“Meditate on a scripture passage,” he had told me. “Take it just a word at a time, and ask God to show you truths about that verse that you’ve never seen before.” Perhaps that was what I needed. I had read through the entire Bible many times in my life, and for the past few years had just fallen out of even that habit. It was just so familiar that I had not learned anything new from it for quite a while.

“What a year I’ve suffered through,” I thought to myself. The physical that my wife had encouraged me so many times to get, the one that resulted in the discovery that I had diabetes, and a ‘little’ high blood pressure as well. The doctor reassured me that neither problem was very bad yet, but I did need to start medication for both. Repeat tests showed I was improving in both areas, but still…

The trees were now close enough to see the old white building, sitting back from the road. The remnants of untended grass and weeds from last year’s growth obscured the front door from sight.

Then there was that visit with the boss. “Gee, we’re sorry, but we have to downsize right now, and your position is being eliminated.” The shock, the numb feeling that went through me. I had tried to say to myself, “Well, praise the Lord anyway.” But the words felt hollow, like my weak smile I had on my face as I took my severence, cleaned out my desk, and left for the last time.

I had finally reached the lane, and turned in to walk down towards the old church. It was light enough now to easily see the little steeple with cross, rising up above the walls covered with peeling white paint. The weeds rustled in a soft breeze.

I sighed again. Losing Dad six months ago had been one additional weight on my heart. He had been so important in my life, someone I could depend on for advice and help. The hole he left in my life and my mother’s life was enormous. And after the funeral and estate issues and tears were done, the dryness had just intensified.

Photo credit -- Ange's photos, Flickr

I walked up to the battered red door, and paused. Closing my eyes, I imagined the door open, the pastor shaking the hands of the parishoners as they left at the end of the service, organ music filtering out the door, all those years ago.

Opening the door with the key Pastor had provided, I stepped in. The room was still a bit dim, but I could make out the cross on the wall at the front of the room. The wooden pews were all pushed up against the north wall, on the right. A single chair sat in the front, before the steps leading up to where the pulpit had stood. On the left wall was the old pump organ. I had asked Pastor if one was still there. He laughed, “Yes it is, but don’t bother trying to play it. Mice got to it years ago, and chewed up the bellows. Bring your guitar instead.”

I left the door ajar, for light and fresh air, and walked slowly into the dim room, I was acutely aware of everything: The creaking of the floor, the dusty smell in the air, the growing light as dawn approached, the sets of dusty footprints on the floor, from the door to the chair and back again. “Hmmm. Looks like Pastor Rod has given this advice to others,” I mused out loud. My voice sounded hollow, almost with an echo in this nearly bare room. The loudness of it startled me.

I took the chair up front, and faced the cross on the wall. I opened the guitar case, and tuned the strings until they sounded right. I set my Bible down in the case, to keep it from getting covered with the dust from the floor. I had brought it along as instructed, but I already knew which verse I wanted to focus on. Explaining more about what he had recently learned about meditiation. Pastor Rod had quoted from a book: “What happens in meditation is that we create the emotional and spiritual space which allows Christ to construct an inner sanctury in the heart.” I knew about that sanctury; I had even taught a Bible study about something like it many years ago. But, as I looked around the room in which I sat, I felt like my own personal sanctury was probably in a more run-down state than this old building.

I strummed the strings on the guitar, just humming along in harmony to the random tune I was playing. The verse I had in mind was Psalm 51:10, the version that we had sung to in church when I was a child: “Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me. Cast me not away from Thy presence, and take not Thy Holy Spirit from me. Restore unto me the joy of Thy salvation; and uphold me with Thy free Spirit.”

“Create”, I softly sang. It was to ask God to make something new. “Create in“, came next. This was where the creation was needed; inside. “Create in me“, came out next. This was the place where creation was needed. “A clean heart”, I next sang. Was my heart dirty? It certainly was dusty, like this room. “Create in me a clean heart”, I sang, as one whole phrase, following the chords I strummed on the guitar. “O Lord” came next. This was the One who had to do the creating. I could not do it myself. I had tried, but failed over and over again. It was my Lord who had to do the creating.

As I hummed and sang these words over and over, I had closed my eyes. I opened them again and found the room was a bit brighter. I could now see that there were some simple colored glass windows on the sides of the room, ones that blurred the view through them. The color was not yet distinct, but it would soon be possible to tell.

I went on in my singing. “And renew,” came next. Renew. Make new something that has become old and dingy. Like my spirit.

And then my tune changed. Keith Green did a version of this song years ago, and I knew it so well I began to sing it the way that he did. “Create in me a clean heart, O God …”

And as I sang, the sun finally came up over the horizon. The breeze that had begun picked up a little, and swung open a little further the door to the church. The dust began to swirl around in the room, making me cough and my eyes water. And when it settled down and I could see again, it was now apparent where the other stained glass in the room was located. The rising sun showed through colored windows above the entry to the church, directly hitting the cross in the front of the room. My tears from the irritation due to the dust became tears of my heart breaking from finally feeling what I had been dull to in the past year. And then this changed to tears of joy, as that “joy of my salvation” truly began to be recreated inside of me.

And then I changed to one of Keith Green’s other songs, one that fit so well with what I had just experienced. It was on the 1979 album The Keith Green Collection, the song Rushing Wind.

Rushing wind, blow through this temple,
Blowing out the dust within;
Come and breathe your breath upon me:
I’ve been born again.

Holy Spirit, I surrender;
Take me where you want to go.
Plant me by your living water,
Plant me deep so I can grow.

Jesus, you’re the one who set my spirit free;
Use me, Lord; glorify your Holy Name through me.

Separate me from this world, Lord;
Sanctify my life for you.
Daily change me to your image,
Help me bear good fruit.

Ev’ry day you’re drawing closer;
Trials come to test my faith.
But when all is said and done, Lord,
You know it’s been worth the wait!

Jesus, you’re the one who set my spirit free;
Use me, Lord; glorify your Holy Name through me.

Rushing wind, blow through this temple,
Blowing out the dust within;
Come and breathe your breath upon me,
For I’ve been born again.

Tags: Keith Green, renewal