Nestled

When I was a little girl, we bought Dad a present (I think for his birthday). It was an LP record of Barry Manilow's 1982 album Here Comes the Night (which was relatively new back then). It was a terrible album, but I didn't know that because I was only about 7 years old when we bought it. Dad barely ever listened to it, but my birth sister and I would listen to it over and over again. I particularly liked the first song on the B side (pictured here).

I studied that album when I was a little girl. It had liner notes, I think on the record sleeve, that had the lyrics and all the legal information for each song. I think my birth mother liked to help me read the lyrics. I listened to that album over and over again, especially after we figured out how to record from LP record to cassette tape, so the lyrics and melodies are embedded pretty firmly in my brain even to this day.

Unfortunately, the lyrics to these songs aren't appropriate for a little girl to listen to. (Wikipedia tells me that the album was released in the UK with the title I Wanna Do It With You.) Rather vulgar words were covered very neatly with easy listening, jazz, and blues melodies. Seriously, if you have this kind of thing in your home, at least try to hide it from your children. Thanks, Mom and Dad, for being excellent parents. #sarcasm

But since I had absorbed that music from that obscure album for years, it's never really left me. (Wikipedia also tells me that a couple of major music reviewers gave the album either 1 or 2 out of 5 stars. Heh. I knew it was a terrible album.) Recently, I prayed about it and felt like it was OK to download a couple of the harmless songs from iTunes recently (the one I mentioned above as well as Barry Manilow's beautiful rendition of "Memory" from Cats)... because I've never really been able to get the music out of my head. So, I'm hoping these two songs will stay harmless for me (song 1 from the B side has already been rather cathartic) and that something good will have come from something that was probably subconsciously disturbing for a musically impressionable little girl. Especially since she grew up to be a woman who has struggled with lust. Thanks again, Mom and Dad, for protecting me from all that. #sarcasm

Thankfully, I have a new Father who knows how to take the bad things that have been nestled into my life and turn them into something useful... and He also knows how to take His children and nestle them permanently into a destiny that nobody will ever be able to reverse.

"Let them shout for joy and be glad, who favor my righteous cause; and let them say continually, 'Let the Lord be magnified, who has pleasure in the prosperity of His servant.' " (Psalm 35:27)

The other day, I got to church a few minutes early and took a photo of the auditorium. I almost posted it on Facebook with a caption that would have said something like, "This is where I sit every week and pretend to not stalk the worship team, especially since I may or may not have a crush on a certain worship leader." I know. LOL. But then I got to thinking how wrong that was -- not wrong to have my eye on someone, but wrong to think that I'm like an outsider looking in. I'm involved in the worship department at my church. That means I belong with a bunch of worshipers. I don't have to stalk them like some creepy groupie.

I'm at a place in my life where I finally feel like I belong somewhere. I don't have a nervous churning in the pit of my stomach when I drive to work in the mornings anymore. I don't entertain out-of-control thoughts of trying to impress people when I'm at church anymore. I just show up and do my thang. I just show up and be myself. I feel like God has carved out a life for me. I have a place here. I'm settled here. I belong here.

At church this weekend, a pastor said something to the effect of, "As parents, our job is to show our kids that they're valued and loved." Unfortunately, I immediately thought of my birth parents. Because they did such a wonderful job raising me. #sarcasm

Actually, they flunked so badly that God told me to leave them permanently -- that He didn't want them in this part of my life.

I can see why now. They kind of had a knack for throwing a monkey wrench into the inner workings of my life. They breathed chaos, they criticized everything, and they stifled me almost completely. (In addition to neglecting and abusing me.) Last night when I read Psalm 35, the part about God taking pleasure in my prosperity stuck out at me. My birth parents took pleasure in advancing their own agendas, but I think my new Father takes pleasure in me prospering in the life that He's prepared for me. He wouldn't throw a monkey wrench into it. Why would He?

God designed me to be a worship pastor, and I didn't know it until recent years. As I've wrestled through that -- Lord, is this really what You want me to do with my life? -- He's shown me that it's a no-brainer. I'm artsy-fartsy, I'm gifted in shepherding, I'm motivated by relationship, I'm into music, I don't have a problem ripping demons' heads off with my bare teeth, and I need to consistently check my heart for obsessing over or worshiping things or people other than God. I'm a worship pastor, whether I get a paycheck for it or not. It's who I am. It's a no-brainer. I know that now.

In fact, it's nestled so deeply inside me that it's as hard to shake as a terrible 80s album that's been etched into the fiber of my being for life... OK, so that's probably a terrible thing to compare it to, but I hope you understand what I'm saying.

But my birth parents didn't know about my calling. If they had, they wouldn't have approved. (Or they would have accepted it only through the lens of their denomination... or maybe Mom would have tried to talk me into being a music secretary instead. Seriously.)

The truth is, I belong.

I belong in His church. I belong in His house. I belong in His family. I belong in the shadow of His wings. I belong between His shoulders. I belong smack-dab in the middle of His embrace. I belong there, and I get to remain nestled there forever. #sincerity