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Say Something
By Lennox Fleary
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Lennox Fleary
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What is it with me and parking lots? I don’t know why, but God seems to find me there. I ask myself, why not on the freeway, when I’m at top speed and everything is a blur? Why not when I’m cutting through traffic on my way to the fast lane, maximizing my potential to effect change? Is there some value to being at standstill? Maybe…
All right then, how about a red light? I’m stopped at the intersection. I’m not going anywhere. If it’s stillness God wants, I’ll be here at least 30 seconds. Seems like a perfect time to speak to me. Psalm 46:10, right? Be still and know that I am God.
For some reason though, it’s the parking lots. It’s the places where I’ve come to a complete stop. It’s when the seat-belts are unbuckled and the keys come out of the ignition. When I’m not just resting between action phases, briefly paused and counting down until the light turns green.
February 15, 2004 finds me in the parking lot outside Figaro’s Pizza on Highway 99 West in McMinnville, Oregon. I was about to work with producer Tim Ellis at the Kung Fu Bakery studios in Portland and I needed a way to fund the venture. So my amazing friend/mentor/Pastor Dan Bumstead came up with a way to support my quest. He organized a fundraiser where the youth of my church would help me sell boxes of Krispy Kreme donuts and the profits would finance my studio session.
All day on the 14th we waved and hollered at passersby. Several stopped and a few bought, but the day ended with my Subaru wagon still almost filled with donuts. Good news, we sold enough to recoup costs. That meant we hadn’t lost any money on this venture. Bad news, we’d also made no profit so I’m no closer to paying for the studio time that’s already scheduled.
Meanwhile, the silence inside of me was deafening. It began 90 days earlier.
I had grown tired and frustrated with God telling me what to do, interfering constantly with my plans. I wanted an easier life and I was convinced the only thing standing in the way was God being nosy and telling me stuff I didn’t want to hear. So I let him have it. I told him what was on my mind. I told him to butt out and let me handle things, ‘cause all He was doing is holding me back.
And He did!
It was amazing! Oh, the freedom! The first 30 days were just incredible. He wasn’t nit-picking and nagging and bothering me everytime I wanted to live my life for me. He wasn’t reminding me that I was built for a purpose and bought with a price. None of that stuff. He was a perfect gentleman. I asked Him to leave me alone. He left me alone.
The second 30 days weren’t quite as fun. I still liked being in charge, though. I wouldn’t mind if He checked in every once in a while to say "Hi." I mean, I kinda' missed His visits and the comfort of His voice and He did say some pretty insightful things.
By the third month, I was desperate. I was like, “I don’t care what you say, just please say something, anything! You can yell at me if you like. Tell me I’m doing everything wrong. Tell me to shave my head and join a monastery. Tell me something!”
Here we are, 90 days into silence, and I’m on a street-curb, yelling at passing cars to stop and buy a box of donuts. As the day draws to a close, I can tell we’re not going to make it to the profit margin.
I don’t know what it was that brought this to mind, but I had a sudden impulse to start singing a worship song right there by the roadside. So I put my box of donuts back in the car, and just stood there on the curb singing, “let your glory fall in this room, let it go forth from here to the nations, let your fragrance rest in this place, as we gather to seek your face…”
Mind you, at this point He’s been completely silent to me, as per my demand, for 90 days. I’ve gone from delighted glee about His departure, to mild discomfort with His absence, to a desperate begging for His return. And I’m now so completely unabashed in my desire for reconciliation, that I’m singing on a street corner to no one in particular, hoping that He’s listening and maybe He’ll say something, anything.
And then it happened. Absolutely nothing. Nobody bought more donuts and God did not speak to me. The silence was not broken and I had the dubious honor of returning home to tell Pastor Dan we’d only sold enough to break even and I still had a station wagon full of donuts outside.
Ah well, tomorrow I’d go out by myself and see if I could move a few more boxes. I wouldn’t have the team with me, but every little bit counts, right? Next morning, February 15, I was in the parking lot outside Figaro’s pizza. I was disheartened. I was discouraged.
I waved at a couple cars, but nobody stopped and I was quickly convinced this would be a repeat of yesterday. So I resigned myself to failure, quit trying to sell donuts, put down the tailgate and picked up my guitar.
A song began forming almost immediately! And then another, and then another! Just so we’re clear, music is one of the primary forms of communication between God and me. And for 90 days now, I’d heard zero music in my head. Nothing. Nada. That’s really not normal for me. I don’t think I’ve gone 24 hours without hearing music in my head. Not since I was, like, eight.
Now I couldn’t keep up. I was scrambling for paper and pen and I was writing as fast and furiously as I could and by the end of the day, not only are there three new songs for me to learn, but I was out of donuts. People saw me sitting on the tailgate, trying to keep up with the pace at which the music is being given to me, they stopped by to see what was going on, and then they left with a box of donuts.
Two of the three songs that came to me that day are on my first album, My Father’s House; Sophia, a song about wisdom, and Calling it Joy, a song about, you guessed it, Joy!
The other song, Sweet Lover is going on the new album, currently in production (Sounds Like Humans).
Maybe I read too much into things, but it seems more than coincidental to me that I had come to a place where I so desperately wanted the connection back, that I wasn’t embarrassed about public display of affection and I couldn’t care less about how many donuts I sold to finance my dream. I had come to complete silence in a parking lot.
I also noticed that I received these songs in the following order: Sweet Lover, then Sophia, then Calling It Joy. To me, it presented that broken desperation leads to searching wisdom leads to restored joy.
It was the beginning of something for me. As I learned more about myself and the way I’m designed, I’ve realized that Joy is my special weapon. It works in just about every situation. It’s indestructible and un-contained. I am amused by the saying, "I can hardly contain myself." Makes me wonder, when did it become the goal to contain ourselves? In many instances, the memory of that parking lot rendezvous with God, has kept me going when I would rather lay down and quit.
I still get chills when I sing that worship song, because I remember that it came to me when silence was thick. And I wonder if I hadn’t been desperate, would joy have come the next day?
Listen to Lennox Fleary sing Calling It Joy.
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