Every now and then I go to the gym only to discover that my headphones are either not in my bag or out of battery. On these very sad gym ventures, I find myself wondering what other people are listening to. I usually imagine the heavy lifters (you know, the ones that feel some primal need to drop their loaded barbell with an unnecessary force) have some heavy metal nonsense on full blast. I assume the 40-50 year old men are listening in on a work call or channeling some type of Led Zeppelin, Def Leppard, AC/DC combo, who knows. I assume most women are either listening to their latest true crime or self-improvement podcast, or vibing to some pop country or some Journey. I have absolutely zero clue what Gen Z is listening to these days. And even if most of these assumptions are incorrect most of the time, it's a fun little game to pass the time. When I don't forget my headphones and they actually are charged, I mind my own musical business and simply listen to the genres of my youth:
Pop Punk / Alternative.
Some Mayday Parade, Blink-182, Fall Out Boy and Yellowcard, Avril Lavigne's singular good album, Evanescence, Linkin Park, The Killers - you get the picture.
Earlier this week while my playlist was pumping out some major nostalgia, an absolute gem came on. From Angels and Airwaves' debut album, the song A Little's Enough began to play. For those who have forgotten and for those who have never been blessed by this little ditty, you can listen to it here. If pop punk isn't really your style, here are the chorus/bridge lyrics, give 'em a read:
The song opens up wondering what in the world it will be like when this whole thing called life comes to an end. Lines like "will we still feel pain inside" and "where everything is not so bad" hook us all right in because we all have had moments when life just feels like endless misery and struggle (a pretty typical theme among pop punk anthems). By the end of the first verse and into the chorus, the words suggest that maybe it will be "like God himself is coming home to say..." and then cue the chorus (see picture).
While misery is a pretty typical theme of the punk genre, God most certainly is not.
This song never really stuck with me growing up, but at the gym this week it definitely struck a chord. I love the idea of God saying "I can help you, I can do anything you need me to - but you need to let me in and let me near. You need to open the door." Yet whether it is sin or loss of a loved one, a broken marriage or a loss of employment, depression and anxiety or crippling loneliness, our own brokenness tends to cause us to close the door to God and spirituality as a whole. Why?
Fast forward to that evening. When both of my littles are finally asleep, I get the occasional chance for some Bible study. That night I began my study in Matthew 9, fully planning on studying Matthew 9-10, Luke 9, and Mark 5. However, I ended up spending all my time in that first chapter. It completely sucked me in.
It was nothing new: an account of some of Christ's miracles. He heals a man with palsy, he journey's to raise Jairus' daughter, 2 blind men are given their sight, a possessed man is set free, and (one of my favorite miracles) a woman reaches out to be made whole by simply touching the Savior's hem.
While I was reading these stories, those darn pop punk lyrics entered my head."I can do anything, if you want me here; I can fix everything, if you'll let me near." The responsibility is on the receiver. In each of the miracles in Matthew 9, Christ is sought out. He doesn't approach any of the individuals and ask to heal them. They come to him. They reach. They say 'I want you here and I will let you near.' They open the door.
This then led me to think: I probably limit God's power in my own life by not reaching.
I limit his influence and help, his strength and peace, his grace and forgiveness, his guidance by simply limiting his access to my life. When I turn away from him. When I forget about him. When I close the door. The story of the woman in Matthew 9:19-22 is a perfect example.
What if that woman never reached? What if instead she stayed slumped over on that street corner in pain? What if she chose to be annoyed and bothered by the pushing crowd and play the victim? What if instead she grew angry that this miracle man didn't see her and choose to stop on his own?
Instead, she reached. Likely weak and tired, she gave what little she had. She didn't call out for him, she didn't stand to introduce herself, she quietly and hopefully reached to touch his clothes. Such a little act. Such a big reward. She was then healed and the Savior of the World, of her world, turned to comfort her and announced: thy faith hath made thee whole.
One of my favorite gospel artists, Yongsung Kim, captures this interaction in his piece Touch of Faith. The strokes sweep from Christ's robe towards the woman's hand, illustrating the Mark 5 account that "virtue had gone out of him." Virtue. Power.
The song I referenced earlier says "the secret's if you let in just a little more love." 1 John 4:16 teaches that God is love... This woman chooses to let in a little more love, a little more power, a little more God and Jesus into her life.
This woman did not know Jesus. She had likely heard, like so many others, of his miracles. She had maybe heard rumors that he was the messiah. She had probably heard others doubt him and scoff at his Nazarene roots. But amid all the voices, she made a decision on her own. A decision to believe that touching even just a little of him, just his hem, would be enough to make her whole. So, she reached for this Jesus of Nazareth. And her faith did indeed make her whole.
I fully believe that I have, at many times, limited God's power and influence in my life. I have closed the door. Both intentionally and by innocent ignorance. But I also can think of many times when I have faithfully reached for my Savior. Sometimes to be embraced by him, sometimes just for his hand, and sometimes just to even touch his hem. Big acts of faith like paying tithing when we were really living paycheck to paycheck and could simply not afford it. Little acts of faith like choosing to hit my knees and believe that he hears me.
So if you're wondering where God has been lately, check your doors. Are they open? Are you giving him full access to your life, your heart, your struggles and misery? Have some doors been shut for quite some time? Maybe open them, just a little. Maybe like the song and like the woman in Matthew 9, choose to let in a little more love, a little more God, into your life. Reach for him, just a little. Because according to a pop punk song from the early 2000s, a little is actually enough.
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