The Power of Percolation

 

"Give, and it will be given to you. 

                                A good measure,

                                           pressed down,

                                                shaken together and running over,

                                                                           will be poured into your lap." Luke 6:38

 

In 2010, new songs were coming out my ears (and pen), songs that I was passionate about - songs I really enjoyed singing and playing. 

 

When the plentiful period of time had been going on for quite awhile, I started to think it was normal and would last forever.  And then, all of a sudden, the well dried up.  There was nothing to write about.  With the greatest of efforts, I could only seem to pull up silly clichés and rhymes, overdone melodic patterns and harmonic sequences.  Even though I was writing, I wanted to throw my ideas back in the pond before anyone would hear them. 

 

It has been three years now, and for a long time I have wondered when another song will come my way, the way the good ones do. 

 

I watched enviously as my friend Andrea came to band practice every week with new song ideas.  I wanted to make this happen for me, too.  But it just wouldn't.

 

This is where we started talking about the idea of "percolation," those times where you have nothing outward to show.  Life is going by all around you, and you turn your experiences over and over in your mind. 

 

 

It is like panning for gold - that painstaking process of sifting out, sifting out, until all the common dust and water is expelled and only the precious stone remains.

 

 

It is like spinning wool into yarn, as you turn and turn the rough material until it becomes more supple and useable.

 

 

It is like harvesting wheat, and slowly separating the single golden kernel from the chaff and the straw and the husks. 

 

 

Percolation is often frustrating because - what do you have to show for all that time, all that time of things being shaken down and pressed together?  All those emotions and observations and experiences and memories getting shuffled around and mixed up until finally the perfect choice phrase emerges - the succinct words that describe it so perfectly? 

 

One day recently I was walking around the lake and one of those phrases drifted into my mind. I had been trying to control the process for so long by sitting at the piano and churning out ideas.  But the revelation came when I was at rest, not working for it.  Pretty soon I had a new song.

 

Sometimes I think we don't realize how hard we are really working during Percolation.  The hard work is going on inside.  So finally, when it is time for us to see the results of all this inner labor, it seems effortless, as though an inspiration has just hit us.  The eureka moment, though, doesn't really come out of thin air - it is only the outward sign of the inward grace of Percolation.   

 

 

 

 

Stay in the boat and persevere

^"Getting into one of the boats, which was Simon’s, he asked him to put out a little from the land. And he sat down and taught the people from the boat.  And when he had ceased speaking, he said to Simon, “Put out into the deep and let down your nets for a catch.”  And Simon answered, “Master, we toiled all night and took nothing! But at your word I will let down the nets.”  And when they had done this, they enclosed a great shoal of fish; and as their nets were breaking,  they beckoned to their partners in the other boat to come and help them. And they came and filled both the boats, so that they began to sink."   Luke 5: 3-8

<sup>I see some parallels in this story to the Wedding Feast at Cana.  Simon has poured out all his resources, all night.  He is tired, frustrated and worn out.  Catching fish is his livelihood, his talent, his way in the world.  And it isn't working.  He is ready to give up (at least for the day).  And right here, at the end of what he can do, he encounters Christ. 

And Jesus says, "Do it again; this time, lower your nets with Me in the boat."

If I were Simon, I would be annoyed.  Who is this guy?  Why does he think this time will be any different?  Does he not realize that I have done the best I can with what I have? 

I have hit this wall in many situations.  But I usually am not ready to give up.  I usually just try harder, or keep doing the same things that aren't working, hoping for a better result.</sup> 

^{In this passage, I hear an invitation to let go of focusing on what my abilities and efforts can achieve, and to open myself in trust to what God wants to achieve in me.} 

<sup>Sometimes you work so hard and get nothing.

Sometimes, suddenly everything falls into place with very little effort on your part. 

This is how it works for Simon.  And yet,  his work in both cases is the same - lowering the nets for a catch. 

What is that daily work? Maybe it is preparing lesson plans each day.  Changing diapers and keeping kids fed.  Performing on a stage.  Preparing invoices.

Showing up every day, we do the work in front of us.  Some days we will see fruit.  Others we won't.  But we stay in the boat and persevere.</sup> 

What a trip to Arby's taught me

I had made plans one day recently to go home after work and cook a really delicious meal, something like this:

But then, I was kept late at work.  By the time I was finally done, I was starving and in no mood to wait the necessary time for this meal to cook.  I was really tempted to run over to Arby's, and just get this: 

In the moment, Arby's seemed like a better choice - hunger alleviated much faster.  But later, I regretted not waiting a little longer for the more wholesome, delicious and nourishing food.  Not only did I have hundreds of calories on my conscience, but the food just wasn't as great. 

It made me realize that there are many times in my life where the Arby's dilemma presents itself: do I want immediate gratification, with its instant highs but usually later regrets,  or delayed joy, paved with some self-denial and possibly suffering?  Of course, in the moment, I am usually blind to the fact that the options are this clear-cut.

*Do I want to waste 20 minutes on facebook or take 20 minutes to write someone a letter?

*Do I want to sit glazed in front of the television or invest in a good book?

*Do I want to take the time to go out and meet new people, or stay in my comfortable introvert shell? 

*Do I want to pursue the discpline of eating healthily, or just seek foods that fit the appetite of the moment?

And sometimes, the questions are bigger.  Do I want to invest time and energy in a career that I am not suited to? Do I want to choose a relationship that isn't quite right instead of waiting for one that is? 

In many areas of life, I am finding that convenience and immediacy have been ruling me, and offering quick fixes and band-aids, when instead, I want to make decisions that are truly and 100% mine. 

Sometimes (and more often than not) waiting is worth it. 

How Our Expectations Blind Us

 

I've been learning a lot about blindness lately. 

I read a lot of books (mostly fiction), and I'm used to the common order of things: introduction, struggle, conclusion.  I collect the stories and experiences of others.  Often I look to those stories to try to determine "what story I am in." Like Will Farrell's charcter in Stranger than Fiction, I am often wondering if the story I am in is a comedy or a tragedy. 

As I predict the likely outcomes, trying to prepare myself either for great joy or sorrow, I realize that many times throughout the journey, I've been blind to what God is actually doing.  My expectations have blinded me.  God might be right there, walking with me, but if I am not expecting Him in that way, through that person, in that media, I can often miss Him. 

Here are some Scripture stories that clued me in to expectation - blindness:

 

The Road to Emmaus

The disciples were blind to Jesus because it was so clear that he had died.  They were so convinced of His death, that they could not possibly expect to see Him alive, even though He was there in front of their eyes, there was a block there until He broke through it.  They were also blind to the meaning of Scripture, the meaning of events.  What they interpreted as a bad happening had another meaning, which in their grief they were unable to see until Jesus revealed it to them. 

The Scourging of the Pillar

The crowd was also blind.  They were not expecting the King to be Jesus and do what Jesus did.  Their expectations for how the prophecy would be revealed blinded them, so that when the King himself was before them, they could not recognize Him. 

 

 

Finding Jesus in the Temple

Mary and Joseph were frantic.  Here they had been entrusted with the care of Jesus, and at only 12 years, he had been lost.  Now what? I have no idea what they were actually thinking, but if it had been me, I would have thought, "Great, now I ruined everything through my personal failures."  Here is where sometimes we can be blind to God's work because of how we see ourselves.  Maybe we think we are too responsible or important and can mess up God's work singlehandedly.  Maybe we have a heightened sense of shame or lack self-worth, so that we cannot see how He wants us to use our gifts.  In the end, Jesus is safe and sound in the Temple.  Mary and Joseph are reminded of the truth - they might be cooperating with God, but it is God's work, and He cannot mess it up. 



 

 

 

The Visitation of Mary to Elizabeth

Mary accepted the prophecy very against normal expectations.  Because she allowed her vision to be determined through God, she responded without blindness.  After being told she was going to be the Son of God out of wedlock, the normal fears about possible stoning, scandal, and even jeopardizing of her life and Jesus' life, were not at the forefront of her mind.  Instead, her first consideration was Elizabeth, and how to help her in her pregnancy.  

. 

 

 



What Does Packaging say about the Gift?

I just recalled this memory today.  I was at a classmate's tenth birthday party, and we were doing a scavenger hunt to find her biggest birthday present.  We finally made it out to the garage for the last clue, and everyone was looking.  I saw something covered by a big dust cloth, and peaked under.  "Oh, it's just a bike," I said. 

"A bike!?!?" shouted my friend, and everyone crowded around me.  Yep, sure enough, that was her gift.

I didn't recognize the gift because of the packaging.  It didn't look like a gift.  It was covered in a dustcloth. 

For some reason, I expect all the gifts in my life to be packaged and clearly marked (in a metaphorical way, of course).  Sometimes I guess I hope God will say, "Take this job offer, it is going to lead to your wildest dreams!" or "This is THE ONE!"

But there are so many times in life that we are receiving big gifts without even knowing it.  They are not packaged in huge, momentous ways.  There is no theme music. 

I don't remember the day I met most of my best friends, for instance.  What a gift they have each been in my life, and yet I didn't see that at the time.  An inconsequential, well-timed conversation with a professor caused me to uproot my entire life and move to St. Paul.  That was a life-changing gift, and I did not recognize it in the moment.  A simple email asking for piano lessons turned into the tremendous gift of graduate school on a tuition waiver.

Then there are the gifts packaged as evils.  Right now, since moving to a new city, I notice that I feel lonely A LOT.  It takes time to build new friendships and feel connected to others in a meaningful way.  But I see that loneliness is also a gift.  It has caused me to be more aware of others around me.  It has forced me to break through my reserve and reach out to others.  It has caused me to be more self-aware. 

Sometimes I ask God for a SIGN.  Something clear.  So why are many of His gifts hidden under a dustcloth?  Why are they packaged so ordinarily, so that they fit into life's fabric without showing their value? 

Maybe the lack of clear packaging is also a gift.  It causes me to work a little harder at practicing gratitude.  It causes me to open my eyes a little more and to learn to be thankful for everything I encounter, whatever its appearance.

How a piano is like the Body of Christ.

On the baby grand piano I use for teaching lessons, one of the high D keys has been sticking for the past few weeks.  Luckily, I thought, the key was very high and should not affect the majority of my younger students.

However, today, almost every single one of my students commented on how irritating it was that this one key was sticking. 

It made me think: out of 88 working keys, 87 isn't THAT bad, is it?  One bad key out of 88 is roughly 1.2% of all the keys.  And yet, how much just one sticking piano key can affect the quality of the music. 

Those 88 keys remind me of the Body of Christ.  We are meant to exist together as one piano, but many keys.  Each of us are called to a unique purpose and plan, but each plan is related to the others so that they can work together for God's glory. 

Those keys sit idle for hours, days, at a time - but each must be ready to be played upon by the Master at any moment.  Each key must be available for music to be played upon it. 

This little annoying sticking key reminded me of what happens when any of us refuses to be "the best version of ourself" (thank you Matthew Kelly).  Sometimes, whether through sin, self-condemnation, worry, envy, etc.  we do not allow ourselves to reflect God, to be available to God, to allow God to make music in us.  Even though we might think this problem is only a personal one, it affects everyone else, and it affects the overall music.

To be able to add to the beauty of God's work, we have only to lay ourselves open to His hand and be ready to be played upon at any time.