David Crowder and Praise

Hey Family.
Haven't blogged in a while - hard to know what to write about. So many things seem trivial and there don't seem to be words (I think you said something about that, Tod, in one your latest entries on CB).
But I love books and I love sharing good ones. My latest favorite is called Praise Habit: Finding God in Sunsets and Sushi by David Crowder. I don't know how many of you listen to David Crowder. My best educated guess is that his cds are not among Grandma's top 40 (Rita, I think you would definitely agree with me if you heard his music - ha!). But the guy really loves the Lord. This book is very real and is just touching me in the place we find ourselves in. It's a book about praise, but his description of tragedy in the intro put words on it that seemed insightful. Whatever the tragedy was (he never says) was the beginning of a new place with God. Here's a quote:

"I used to think I knew where to find God. He seemed to always be where I put Him last.

He was in Sunday school every Sunday morning. He was in "big church" right after. He was there most Sunday nights too. He was around our dinner table when my father read from the blue Bible-story books. He was there when I prayed before meals. He was there most times I prayed elsewhere, too. He was there during my quiet times. He was at church on Wednesday nights. He was really there at summer camp. He loved church camp. I think He just liked summers better in general. Once school started back, the moments with Him were farther spaced, it seems. I enjoyed finding Him. It felt like things were right. Even if they weren't, it felt okay. I wanted more moments with Him. I heard there was a Bible study on Monday nights, so I went, and sure enough -- He was there. I had an accountability group and we met on Tuesdays, and sure enough -- He was there, too. I heard about another Bible study that met on Thursdays, so I went, and wouldn't you know it, there He was. He began showing up in the songs we sang around 1983. It was called contemporary worship. It was great. He was always in these songs, so I would sing them whenever I wanted to find Him, and sure enough -- there He'd be. By the time I got to college I thought I had it all sorted out with everything in its place. Then tragedy came.

Tragedy always comes. If it hasn't come for you, it will. Not the losing-your-homework kind or the having-to-flush-your-goldfish kind, but the kind that leaves you stripped. The kind that tears from you all the ideas about living you once believed untearable. Mine came my junior year of college, and it came in a phone call. It was my mom. She said, "David, something very terrible has happened." The words that followed were bombs. As they came hurtling toward me through miles of telephone wire, my muscles turned liquid, and when she finished, I was left wilted on the floor, and God was not there. At least I could no longer find Him. And I had no idea where to begin looking again. The places I used to frequent, I no longer trusted. In seven minutes, everything had thought about everything was dramatically different....

There was a lot of sorting out to be done concerning most things and where they were to be placed in this faith I carried or that was carrying me, and it was proving to be a daunting task. And then in the middle of this sorting, an explosion. I was covered in shrapnel, clotlessly bleeding. And when I had bled out, when there was nothing left, I found Him. And He was not where I thought He was. Nor where I had put Him last.

He was in a Chick-fil-a sandwich.

[okay, just 2 more paragraphs - I can't leave you hanging there.]

I have loved Chick-fil-a my whole life. But when your world implodes, nothing tastes good. I was poking at the thing and a thought hit me that there is one part of the sandwich I don't enjoy. There is about a quarter of the breast that consistently dissolves into a lesser grade of meat and soggy breading. I pulled the top bun off and tore the portion away that didn't look appealing. There was a natural break in the meat. It was easily separated. I put the top back on and ate. It was the best chicken sandwich I had ever eaten. I wadded up the foil sandwich bag and smiled for the first time in a really long while.

It may not sound like a real breakthrough, but for me it was truly cathartic. In a small, decisive moment I was aware of what was good and took effort to peel away what wasn't and in the process became re-enamored with the Giver of good. I remembered our beginnings, when that statement "It was good" was first uttered. I thought about how the bad was never intended. Things started to come to life. Blood that had slowed to a crawl began to find its way through my veins again...."


Ignore this whole thing if it doesn't bless you. I'll tell you, his humor cracks me up. Randy and I have just sat laughing as we read his commentaries on life. He's a little quirky (understatement?). I think we just need this reminder right now to praise God in everything - spirit of poverty (among many other things of life) is heavy.

Love all of you and we continue to pray.

Anda