All That Jazz

Now it all makes sense: Blue Like Jazz. It's been months since I've been drawn into a book that held my interest to the extent that it subdued my tendencey to skim pages. I held off on reading the book because I have developed something of a Pavlovian response to books that, no sooner than they are released, become all the rage and develop a cult following. I think the reaction started back when I was working in Christian retail and the Prayer of Jabez was released. By the time that craze ended, I was Prayer of Jabez-ed out. Retailers had the prayer plastered on every imaginable profitable object. I'm surprised we didn't offer to tattoo it on people's backsides. I digress but I possess a certain disdain for religious trends, cliches, and contrived religious performances slightly reminiscent of scenes from The Truman Show.
With cynicism whispering in my ear, I didn't expect much from this read. I only hoped to discover what the author considered to be "blue like jazz". Sounded a little illogical to me or, better said, "Inconceivable!" (there's a line for you movie- trivia buffs). I wondered how he might connect blue to jazz and both to Christian spirituality. I could see the comparison of art to music and even writing to music. I could relate to the thought that there is an underlying rhythm in painting and in the composition of words as well, but I guess I'd never really considered my spirituality to fit any particular genre of music. The author, Don Miller, compares Christian spirituality to jazz - referring to the genre's freedom, intuitiveness, and complexity - calling it the language of the soul.
Aside from the beautiful analogy, which was explained along the way, I found that the book affected me more than I expected. It made me laugh and it offended me at times but, most importantly, it made me think. It really challenged some of my thinking that I try not to question for fear of what it might reveal about myself. One insight of his that made me a little fidgety: "I believe that the greatest trick of the devil is not to get us into some sort of evil but rather have us wasting time. this is why the devil tries so hard to get Christians to be religious. If he can sink a man's mind into habit, he will prevent his heart from engaging God."
Blue Like Jazz is a journal-like collection of stories about Miller's journey to find God. It, in a small way, reminds me of the story of Job. His faith is tested through a series of questions, conflict and, finally, resolution. In Chapter 9, he reveals the dialogue he had with God while on a trip to the Grand Canyon. Before arriving at the Grand Canyon, he says, "I spent an entire week feeling bitter because I couldn't breathe underwater. I told God I wanted to be a fish. I also felt a little bitter about sleep. Why do we have to sleep? I wanted to be able to stay awake for as long as I wanted, but God had put me in this body that had to sleep. Life no longer seemed like an experience of freedom." Upon arrival, Miller reveals the pivotal part of his journey where he finally receives an answer and sense of resolution from God. "Beneath the billion stars and beside the river, I called out to God, softly. 'Hello?' The stars were very quiet. The river spoke in some other tongue, some vernacular for fish. 'I'm sorry, God. I'm sorry I got so confused about You, got so fake. I hope it's not too late anymore. I don't really know who I am, who You are, or what faith looks like. But if You want to talk, I'm here now. I could feel You convicting me when I was a kid, and I feel like You are trying to get through to me. But I feel like You are an alien or something, somebody far away.' Nothing from the stars. Fish language from the river. But as I lay there, talking to God, being real with Him, I began to find a bit of serenity. It felt like I was apologizing to an old friend, someone with whom there had been a sort of bitterness, and the friend was saying it was okay, that he didn't think anything of it. It felt like I was starting over, or just getting started. That is the thing about giving yourself to God. Some people get really emotional about it, and some people don't feel much of anything except the peace they have after making an important decision. I felt a lot of peace.
"There is something quite beautiful about the Grand Canyon at night. There is something beautiful about a billion stars held steady by a God who knows what He is doing. (They hang there, the stars, like notes on a page of music, free-form verse, silent mysteries swirling in the blue like jazz.) And as I lay there, it occurred to me that God is up there somewhere. Of course, I had always known He was, but this time I felt it, I realized it, the way a person realizes they are hungry or thirsty. The knowledge of God seeped out of my brain and into my heart. I imagined him looking down on this earth, half angry because His beloved mankind had cheated on Him, had committed adultery, and yet hopelessly in love with her, drunk with love for her...I lay there under the stars and thought of what a great responsibility it is to be human..."
"When you come looking for me, you'll find me. "Yes, when you get serious about finding me and want it more than anything else, I'll make sure you won't be disappointed." (Jeremiah 29:13)
"So let God work his will in you. Yell a loud no to the Devil and watch him scamper. Say a quiet yes to God and he'll be there in no time. Quit dabbling in sin. Purify your inner life. Quit playing the field. Hit bottom, and cry your eyes out. The fun and games are over. Get serious, really serious. Get down on your knees before the Master; it's the only way you'll get on your feet." (James 4:7-10)