Sunday, February 12, 2012

Part Of The Paparazzi

I clearly remember the gifts I received on my long anticipated 13th birthday.   I got my own clock/radio alarm, an ubber-stylish black purse with a cinch top, and a much coveted cassette tape.  I remember that day, sitting in my dad's truck.  It was parked in the parking lot of the grocery store, as I waited for my mom to come out.  I admired my purse as I played my tape over and over.  I thought I was the luckiest girl in the world!

Just what was that coveted cassette,you ask?


Remember that one?  Oh, I do.  From those wound strips of brown plastic, songs like "I Wanna Dance With Somebody" and "So Emotional", poured from the speakers of my little cassette player. I would go in my room close the door and belt out those songs as if I were Whitney myself.  It goes without saying,  I was a big Whitney Houston fan and I remember a conversation my sister and I had way back when.  We were sitting on the side of the sandbox in our back yard one afternoon talking about what we were going to name our children some day, like all little girls do.  I was going to name my daughter none other than Whitney, of course

Time has proven otherwise of that plan, neither of my daughters were named Whitney, however I have always been interested in the stories I have heard off and on through the years about her life.  When I discovered the news of her death, my first thought was, I'm not surprised.  My second was, despite all those people, she seems so lonely.

As I watched a few clips of her life, some of them recent, my heart broke for the life that is now gone, much like it broke when the life and death of Priness Diana was so fresh.  Followed and chased constantly by cameras bearing flashes, voices at a shout, crowds pressing in, security moving in mass, my heart not only breaks for the life lost but for the lost lives that are chasing.


They are everywhere, in the least expected places, attempting to capture a glimpse into the lives of the famous, just so we can know one more thing about them.  Extreme measures are taken for one click of a shutter.  Lives are risked.  Privacy is breached.  Money to be had.  Many times it has been said that the paparazzi is out of control.
Yes, I agree, they are. 

But for what?

Isn't it ironic that those with such mobs in tow, constantly surrounded by others, are often the most lonely?

Why, please tell me, are we not that starved, that hungry, that determined, that willing to risk life and limb for just a glimpse of Jesus?  Just to know something about Him to plaster for all the world to see.

Why don't we chase Him in mass, pressing in to the person of Him?
Why don't we set up camp at the next place we know He is going to be, devotedly anticipating His arrival?

If He were here, would we notice?

Would His tenderness and grace make the news?
Would the crowd stalking Him be loud enough, large enough, risky enough to create that paparazzi craze?

When was the last time someone stepped on your foot or elbowed you just trying to get closer to Him?  That's the crowd I want to be in.  I will risk life and limb.

I want to be part of the paparazzi.

Jesus, may my intrigue for more of  You drive my heart to a paparazzi craze.  May it drive me to a place of stalking for one more glimpse of Who You are.  There is not enough of You within me and I need more.  Unsatisfy me with what this world offers and intune my spirit with where You are going to be so that I might meet You there.  My life has no purpose without You.  I need more than a fan club membership, I need that life that You offered the woman at the well.  Let me find myself in a multitude simultaneously pressing in for one touch of  your garment.  My camera and lense is prepared, my running shoes are shod and primed for the chase, my voice is ready to shout over the crowds.  I'm watching, and I know I will see You in a moment - somewhere.

Royal Princess Daughter Of The King
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