Our inheritance in Christ 4/4- last article Daughter of Zion.

14 Therefore I bow my knees to the Father, 15 from whom every generation in heaven and on earth takes its name,[1] 16 that he may give you strength according to the riches of his glory, to be strengthened by his Spirit in the inward man, 17 that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And ye be rooted and grounded in love, 18 That ye may understand with all saints what is the breadth, and length, and height, and depth, 19 Knowing also the love of Christ, which passeth all understanding, that ye may be filled until ye have obtained all the fullness of God. 20 But to him who is able to do exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or understand, according to the power that works within us, 21 to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations forever and ever. Amen." ( Ephesians 3:14ff) 

Fascination definition: "attractive, captivating effect; charming charisma, attraction."

My dear friends, dear followers,

many years ago I celebrated my 37th birthday with my husband in a Southern Rock bar in Nashville/USA.

Shortly before, we had wandered through the "Country Hall of Fame" after we could not have raised our eyebrows higher in European fashion when we read the sign on the door: "No food. No alcohol. No weapons."

No weapons!

It made us realize again that in this famous musician town, not even particularly large by American standards, the side streets were rather to be avoided, that it was not safe on the streets.

The small bar was not particularly crowded. On stage, a rock band was playing their hearts out. They were good - really good - great musicians who knew their craft.

Alone, I felt reminded of those movie scenes that introduce so many musical films:

The band is playing, but the audience couldn't be more disinterested. They were there to drink beer, meet friends, the waitresses were polishing glasses behind the counter- and the band ...was doing their best, grateful for anyone who listened for more than a few minutes. It was their job to play. But I think it was also more:

It was a secret desire to be seen in their creativity. The silent hope that some talent scout would see them - one of the big ones, the ones who can rock something, because the small indie labels might release, but the music scene is totally taken over by the majors, by the huge corporations that determine the market, that decide what's hip and what's not, that equalize themes, lyrics, melodies, and promote individual bands with horrendous amounts of money, but in the end the latter often lose one thing:

Their uniqueness. Their very special sound. Their edges and corners. Their joy of playing, their creativity...their heart.

Because as soon as they are found, they are instrumentalized, marketed and smoothed out to meet the demands and desires of the market - bought and marketed as a product. Conformist puppets on stages- interchangeable, alienated from themselves, and with regret the fans of the first hour note:

The change to the major label has killed the soul of the music.

Many of those who do not want to submit to this remain unseen. I don't know if this little Southern Rock band, so darn good, even performs after 12 years, or if the guys stare out the window of the office where they now work 9 to 5 with a wistful resigned look. Pulling the bass out of the wall mount every now and then and realizing that playing alone just isn't the same.

You know: God's love can't be ironed out, marketed and uniformly thrown on the market. It cannot be pressed into big mega-events, and His Spirit, the Holy Spirit - He does not allow himself to be dictated by a few moneyed bosses, where he works, how he works, how he is.

God cannot be marketed.

Those who try pay a high price: they end up in the illusion of success, become products of Christian business, fulfill the specifications of their profit-oriented publishers and large corporations, and have to deliver. What doesn't fit is made to fit. What is too edgy is ground down because it doesn't reach the masses, doesn't want to be heard, doesn't fill the coffers.

And you can see it in their faces.

Over time, they lose the warmth in their eyes, the unique glow that made them special. Their message flattens out and becomes interchangeable with a thousand others.

And the Holy Spirit?

He withdraws sorrowfully. What remains is the human being.

And yet, this dream draws us:

The dream of reaching the hearts of many with our own fascination, our own song, written in a living heart. The dream that around us may gather those who have the same dream, who recognize themselves in the song we sing.

I have been singing for three years now. To audiences who would rather meet friends, would rather discuss and argue, who complained that the music of my soul, my own worship was too loud, too complicated, too long, too rocking, too unironed, too confronting. The truth too stark, the love too soft, the criticism too uncharitable. Not major enough. Not radio-friendly enough.

Handmade, indie label articles.

Today I leave the stage after three years, and look back at the playlist.

I still see endless aspects that could be explored in more depth. I still see many, many fascinating, take-away truths and so many buried gems in the Bible. An eternal source of inspiration, a never-ending story written by the Author of all authors.

But I understood something that hurt me, yes. What leaves me in sorrow, yes:

This fascination with Jesus-you can't share it.

A friend of mine is a clown. She said the other day:

"Bille, sometimes I start my program with bubbles. If I make sure that others find the bubbles as great as I do, it doesn't work. I myself have to totally lose myself in the game with the bubbles, and maybe what makes me marvel can take someone else with me." 

My bubbles, you know- they are published. They were written with love, with fascination for what Jesus showed me, they were my moments with him. When I approached him in those times, he approached me, showed me more of himself, drew me closer to his heart. I recognized dazzling facets of him that were so beautiful I exulted. I recognized fragility of moments, danger and preservation, uniqueness and gentleness.

But above all, I realized one thing: all that I wrote is a sign, a testimony of His love in me. My story is interwoven with Christ. He is my hope, my love, my fascination.

I don't want to let this beautiful gift of his nearness be evaluated. I don't want to change my articles in order to provide a larger target group with what sweetens their car ride as inconsequential background music. I don't want to please any target group in order to sell better, but I want to sing my song for Jesus.

What I want is to meet people who play the same deep song. Who enjoy handmade rock music. Who can't stop thinking about God's inconceivable greatness. Who pray just as fervently, who are just as swept away in His love, and who do not and will never let Him become a product.

And so I close, and leave the stage.

I thank those who let me know, rarely, what touched them. Those who did not evaluate style, equality of opinion and article construction, but who let themselves be carried away and changed.

I thank those who paused in the noise to listen to me.

And if you are the ones who found support in it, new direction - you can get in touch. Maybe we pray together once a week. Maybe we will share our thoughts and especially our hearts.

Take care.

God is calling me to new shores.

And away from a stage that is obviously not mine.

The Zion Daughter page on Facebook will remain active. From time to time I will share something.

The website will not be shut down. Maybe...when a pearl falls before my feet, Ill share it here. But the articles will remain pure website/blog articles and will not be shared in social media anymore.

But for now- I say Farewell after three years.

Find your song. And sing it.

Sibylle/Zion's Daughter.