Wedding Dress

I know I should be posting about Brussels, my job, or something else having to do with my time in Europe, but I'm going to take a break from that (I know, I haven't done too much anyway). I went to the Royal Park today for lunch (it's right across the street from the Mission) and read a few pages of Dietrich Bonhoeffer's "Psalms: Prayerbook of the Bible". So far an excellent read. It's always so strange to me how God continually brings up the same things. Last semester in Christian Worship, I learned the importance of understanding that worship and prayers are not mine, but I am permited to join in Jesus' worship and prayers. Bonhoeffer echoed that sentiment, adding that anything less (or more) than joining in Jesus' work is neither worship nor prayer. A proper prayer, the prayer that Jesus prays for and with me, will always be modeled after the Lord's Prayer. Even the Psalms, according to Bonhoeffer, follow that pattern.

And I realized how, once again, I had made my Christianity, my faith and prayers and worship, an act of myself over the last few weeks. It's been fairly easy. But the odd thing is that when I get to thinking how great I've got my prayers and Christian work, that's when I can no longer control my sin. I realize now that I have to step back and really let Jesus be my holiness, my worship, and my prayers for me. How easily, and how quickly, I forget that.

The following song is by Derek Webb and is written specifically about the Church but can also apply to individuals. It was played at our Ash Wednesday service earlier in the year, and it cuts me to my heart everytime I hear it because it's so true. It's very easy for me to claim Christ when things are easy, but that is normally in name only. I'm terribly easy to satisfy. I easily get bored with Christianity. It's hard to say, but I really am a whore. So without further ado, Wedding Dress by Derek Webb.

If You cold love me as a wife
And for my wedding gift, Your life
Should that be all I’ll ever need
Or is there more I’m looking for
And should I read between the lines
And look for blessings in disguise
To make me handsome, rich, and wise
Is that really what You want?

I am a whore, I do confess
I put You on just like a wedding dress
And I run down the aisle
Run down the aisle
I’m a prodigal with no way home
I put You on just like a ring of gold
And I run down the aisle
Run down the aisle to You

So could You love this bastard child
Though I don’t trust You to provide
With one hand in a pot of gold
And with the other in Your side
I am so easily satisfied
By the call of lovers so less wild
That I would take a little cash
Over Your very Flesh and Blood

I am a whore I do confess
I put You on just like a wedding dress
And I run down the aisle
Run down the aisle
I’m a prodigal with no way home
I put You on just like a ring of gold
And I run down the aisle
Run down the aisle to You

‘Cause money cannot buy
A Husband’s jealous eye
When you have knowingly deceived His wife

I am a whore, I do confess
I put You on just like a wedding dress
And I run down the aisle
Run down the aisle
I’m a prodigal with no way home
I put You on just like a ring of gold
And I run down the aisle
Run down the aisle to You