Posted by: pendrops | December 31, 2007

to the trumpet’s blast


“…you will sound the trumpet throughout all your land. And you will…proclaim liberty throughout the land to all its inhabitants. It shall be a jubilee…”
~ Leviticus 25

“But this is supposed to be my jubilee year,” I pouted as I held the hardcover in my lap. The Pressure’s Off, a book I’ve been reading the past couple months, takes nearly everything I’ve learned as a God-follower and turns it upside down. Different than all the other lifestyle and self-help-ish books I’ve read recently, The Pressure’s Off has given me a powerful, grace-filled, liberating paradigm for living.

Some of the truths within sound like this:

There is no ‘If A, then B.’

Rain falls on the just and the unjust.

God is not interested in our happy little agenda…He’s interested in us being close to Him.

It’s not about His blessings; it’s about Him.

I was all in for the longest time, welcoming this freer, fuller life in Christ. The pressure is truly relieved, the idea of perfection obliterated, the inclination to perform annihilated, releasing me to simply be and be His. I had just started to celebrate this, to announce the festival season, to usher in my jubilee year with trumpets and fanfare, when I saw that word on the final pages:


Didn’t I just come through a season of brokenness? I thought, remembering the past couple years and all I’d encountered within and without.

Aren’t all the Pendroppers gonna be sick of hearing me talk about brokenness for another year? I wondered, thinking about how serious my posts had been as of late.

I was ready to drop the mic on some celebration, I whined in hip-hop fashion as I stared at that word on the page.

Crabb says it like this:

“The New Way begins with brokenness.”

In my black-and-white, compartmentalized thinking, I had decided all my confrontation with brokenness was behind me, especially after the stuff I’ve faced down and faced up to the past couple years. But there it was; even with all I’d cleaned up, a dirty little mess stinking up my jubilee celebration.

But now, a few hours before a new year, I look back, look ahead, and breathe the oxygen of this moment, & I can’t help smiling. This jubilee year is awaiting me. A year where both brokenness and rejoicing will be themes – even within the same instant. A year where I will hear bitter death knells harmonizing with strains of celebration. A year where broken bones will dance to the trumpet’s blast.


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