Dancing with the fire

Right after I got out of the psych hospital about 15 years ago, I drew a lot for my own therapy. I kept a lot of my drawings (most of which were integrated with a journal that I kept back then), and I still have a couple of them hung on my wall. I'm no Michelangelo, but my therapeutic creations have a lot of sentimental value to me.

The disco theme for a song at my church this past weekend, as well as some stuff that I've been thinking about lately, reminded me of this picture that I drew circa 2001. It's a cartoon of me standing in the middle of a disco-type arena facing an Exodus-type cloud pillar and fire pillars. God is speaking to me in the cloud. I am wearing a purple dress -- the purple symbolizes that I am royalty, and the dress symbolizes that I am a chick. I'm holding my hands behind my back, I'm totally digging God, and I'm completely secure.

Security was a huge deal to me back then -- as it is for everybody, all the time, especially if you're a woman -- but it was an even bigger deal to me then because I was pretty much fighting for my peace every day. Depression was like that for me. Maybe you don't know what it's like to be choked to death by an invisible monster that is stronger than you, that has grabbed hold of you and has refused to let you go, that is always trying to drag you down into a dark pit. That was my life back then. Rather, my life had been stolen from me, and even though I was very weak, I was using every ounce of strength I had to get my life back.

Although I know now that I wasn't recovering from depression in a spiritually healthy environment, one place where I wasn't stifled was my drawings. God let me use them as a vehicle to pour out my heart to Him. He let me get angry there. He let me work things out there. He let me express myself there.

Expression is a pretty important thing, especially if you're in the middle of trying to cure a mental-health crisis that ignited after years of absorbing bad things and stuffing then down inside you.

"Gird Your sword upon Your thigh, O Mighty One, with Your glory and Your majesty. And in Your majesty ride prosperously because of truth, humility, and righteousness; and Your right hand shall teach You awesome things." (Psalm 45:3-4)

"Blessed be the Lord my Rock, who trains my hands for war, and my fingers for battle." (Psalm 144:1)

Last year, I started getting into the Gipsy Kings' music (as I talked about in this post), and I haven't been able to stop. I think I like them now about as much as I like Queen (which is a lot). I'm totally a fan, and I've been gawk-researching their music/lives.

As I mentioned before, the Gipsy Kings didn't give themselves a pretentious-sounding name because they claimed to be the "kings" of their music genre. They didn't even start out to become world-famous musicians. Music is simply in their blood; they are who they are, and they don't apologize for it. They don't need to. And I don't want them to.

From what I understand, the group's families come from a long line of people called Romani who originated in India. They have traditionally been nomadic and -- for reasons which I really don't understand -- highly persecuted. In fact, hundreds of thousands of Romani people were exterminated during the Holocaust. I had no idea.

Today, from what I understand, many Romani people have traded in their nomadic lifestyle for a more settled existence, and a great many of them are musicians. The Gipsy Kings' families are gitanos, or Romani people from Spain.

I read an interview online from the lead singer of the Gipsy Kings, and he explained that his family had to move around a lot because they weren't welcome in society. They were denied schooling/education, and they weren't even allowed to fight in the Spanish Civil War (which is why his family emigrated to France for safety).

But one place where they could truly be themselves was within the family -- especially when they would play music together. The men would sing and play guitars while the women would dance, and they would all party pretty much all night long. Their children were treated like royalty because they were the only way that their persecuted clan could keep existing.

When I learned this information about their families, the Gipsy Kings' music gradually started to make so much more sense.

Their first album (1982) is an acoustic recording that is very underproduced and sounds like the engineer just turned a few mics on and told the musicians to do their thing. There is a lot of chitchat between songs. After one of the songs, you hear someone quietly crash the recording session when all the group members greet her one by one: "¡Dora! ¡Elé!" From the way they dote on her several songs later, I'm guessing the recording-crasher is a child who probably starts dancing.

Sometimes I can understand their Spanish. Other times, I can recognize that French is being sung/spoken. Still other times, I can't understand what the heck is being sung/said because it's some sort of language hybrid sung by a bunch of ingenious musicians who probably create new stuff all the time, I'm guessing even in their everyday speech.

These are artists who grew up in a nomadic society that fused languages together. Since they were largely denied formal education, they might not know how to read. I think this explains the interesting spellings on the titles of their songs. Even "Gipsy" is actually technically supposed to be spelled "Gypsy" in English. But so what? They're authentic. They're the real deal.

Since it sounds like they pretty much only had each other while they were growing up, the guys in the group are more than likely extremely close. Since they had to lean on each other to survive, and since they played music together constantly, they can follow one another impeccably. When they make mistakes on their underproduced recordings, you can barely tell because their music is so organic, so tight, and so fluid. It's brilliant. And there's so much of it to listen to.

Frankly, it's intoxicating. I'm not addicted. I can stop anytime I want. Oh, who am I kidding? I am so addicted.

I love these guys' music. They have a crazy way of expressing any kind of emotion -- sadness, happiness, shame -- with a fast-paced dance. They've even tackled the issue of domestic violence in this happy style of music. The English translation of one of their songs is "Dad, Don't Hit Mom," and it even has a key change and I think a prayer in the middle. From what I can understand, it basically goes, "Dad, Dad, don't hit Mom, you're going to kill her, Hey-Hey-Hey-Hey-Hey, Father please bless me [rhythmic clapping, guitar flourish, a bunch of gitanos cheering loudly], ¡Olé!" Toe-tapping catharsis.

I love listening to their live recordings. It sounds like they encourage each other while they are playing and improvising. And I think perhaps one welcome side effect of their years of persecution and isolation is a very intense focus on their craft. Vocally and on guitar, they are virtuosos. Honestly, I consider them to be like my musical grandfathers now.

Listening to the Gipsy Kings' folk-flamenco music has introduced me to another traditional genre of flamenco music called the fandango. (Not to be confused with the Portuguese dance. (Or the movie-ticket company.)) The fandango is like the Spanish blues. From what I understand, if you have at least one guitarist and one vocalist, you two can fandango your hearts out until you run out of stuff to vocally vent about. I've seen YouTube videos of gitanos go pretty crazy (in a good way) with fandangos. From what I understand, it's all improvised, and a typical song goes something like, "[guitar flourish intro] You left me, you left me, you left me [guitar flourish], I can't believe you could have been so foolish [guitar flourish], everybody told me you were bad for me [long guitar flourish], and now you're gone [longer guitar flourish], I still can't believe you left me, left me, left me-e-e-e-e [etc.]."

Dang. Can you get how I've really been digging this stuff the past several months? Oh, my gosh. It's like I died and went to flamenco heaven.

Seriously. I want to integrate this stuff into my quiet time: "[guitar intro] Lord, with all due respect [guitar picking], seriously, what the heck [guitar guitar guitar], but I know You know best [guitar guitar], I just don't get how all [guitar] of this crap [guitar] has been flung in my face lately [guitar], lately [guitar], lately, lately, lately, lately-y-y-y-y [spastic guitar finish], ¡Olé! Selah!"

Sometimes a chick just needs to express herself. God definitely knows that.

"When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow you. When you walk through the fire, you shall not be burned, nor shall the flame scorch you." (Isaiah 43:2)

Last week was totally insane for me. I was hit with challenges and trials from all different directions. When I began my drive to work last Monday morning, God was like, "Let's DO this, child." He and I are on the same team (otherwise I would be toast), and it sounded like He was ready to duke it out with somebody.

The other night when I got home from work, after I had gotten another life-hit, God told me, "Let's kick this trial's [bleep]." I promise you that's what He said, minus my censoring. I know my Father's voice. He's gentle and fierce simultaneously. He comforts me, and He disciplines me. Sometimes He sings to me in falsetto, and sometimes He calls me Chucklehead. (Sorry, only God is allowed to call me Chucklehead.)

The other day when I was reading Psalm 45 for the zillionth time, I couldn't get past verse 4. In His majesty, God rides in truth, HUMILITY, and righteousness. I think people everywhere have a bad idea of what humility really is. Humility isn't humiliation. I heard a pastor say a long time ago that humility is being focused on Jesus; the pastor was right.

Humility is staying focused on your relationship with God and being honest with yourself. When Jesus was on this earth and He told people that He is the Light of the World, He wasn't being arrogant. He was never arrogant. He was being humble. He was being honest. He was just telling people who He is.

I think Psalm 45:4 says that there is an element of God's majesty that He won't ever be able to separate from His humility. When He's riding forth in majesty, Psalm 45:4 says He's doing so prosperously. It says that He's doing it BECAUSE OF truth, humility, and righteousness. Psalm 45:4 doesn't say that God helplessly shrugs His shoulders and says, "Oh, woe is Me, and woe is you because all you can do now is trust in Me. I'm such a wussy little God. Cough, cough."

Nope. Psalm 45:3 says He girds His sword with glory and majesty. Psalm 45:4 says He rides prosperously. And Psalm 45:5 says His arrows are sharp in His enemies' hearts. When my God says He's going to kick my trial's [bleep], that means He's going to kick its [bleep]. I know my Father.

And Psalm 144:1 says that He trains my hands for war and my fingers for battle. Let's DO this, Father.

So, here's where all the crazy ideas in this post come together. In the Bible (and in everyday speech), a trial or hardship is sometimes referred to as a "fire." Recently while I've experienced my own "fires," and while I've been listening to a lot of Gipsy Kings music (which is quite fiery metaphorically), I've pictured myself dancing with fire. Not in a recreational or pagan sense. More like in a triumphant sense. Please indulge me while I bully my tormentor.

[crazy flamenco guitar] "Aw, hello there, little flamey. You like my dance moves? You don't like my dance moves? Why not? Aw, little flamey-wamey doesn't like Tirzah's hands clasped around your neck? Hmm. That's funny. I thought since you tried to choke the life out of me, you wouldn't have a problem with me choking the life out of you. [guitar guitar guitar] Eh, what's that? You have no idea how my hands aren't burning to a crisp? Ay, pobre fuego-fueguito. Come on, now, poor little flamey. There's no way I can spend all this time with you and your kind and NOT know how to handle you. [guitar guitar guitar guitar guitar] Eh, what's that? You suddenly have a problem dancing with me? I'm wearing you out? I'm wearing you down? I'm too strong for you? Well, that's not my fault. See, I learned all my chokehold moves from my hip-dislocater Dance Partner. You know. He's the Consuming Fire. Oh, you don't know? Well, you're about to find out exactly who He is! [spastic guitar finish] ¡Olé! Selah!" [flamey-wamey chokes, sputters, and fizzles out]

Last month, a visiting pastor at my church said that 2016 would be a year to "thrive." I think that can totally be done while you're dancing in the fire, while your Father is keeping the flames from burning you, while you're focusing on your relationship with Him, while you're being honest with Him and with yourself, and while He and you are kicking a trial's [bleep].

I think thriving can also happen while you're curled up in a fetal position and crying your eyes out into your Daddy's bosom while He's holding you and comforting you.

Because as long as you haven't broken the life-essential connection with your Father, you've won.

Although technically, we're more than conquerors in Jesus because He won first. He treats us like royalty because in Him, we are. We can definitely be secure in that. ¡Olé! Selah!