The Last One for '22

It has been a little more than fourteen years ago that I wrote the first JourneyNotes.  Back then I was pastoring the Richmond Hill United Methodist Church with two more years until retirement would bring me to the farm.   When I wrote four or five posts a month, it seemed like a good writing month and most of the blogs posted were written as I stood deep in the long shadow of the institutional church.  At that point years ago I could not imagine that everything about my ministry except for the writing part would either be taken away, or dropped along the wayside as something no longer a part of the calling from years ago. 

In recent days I have come to the conclusion that this writing ministry is a manna ministry.  I am sure there are some who write daily stuff who work months, or maybe even a year ahead, but never have I been able to get more than a week ahead.  Most of the time it is an every day event.  Even as the manna came once a day and not to be saved for the next day so has this ministry of writing evolved.  The inspiration, (though some may think I should use another word and I would certainly dare not argue the point on some days), seems to show up as I show up to write.  Or, as is also the case I find myself aware that something is ruminating (to use a cow term learned as I watched the cows in the pasture chewing their cud) in my spirit and sitting down opens the faucet of expression.    

Regardless of how it happens, this manna ministry as I am learning to call it seems to be something which is as much a part of my calling as was preaching in the past.  My congregation no longer listens to me  (though some never did), but instead my congregation reads what I write.  I know some of them by name, but so many are simply folks who are led by the Spirit to glance my way and find a word which may or may not be helpful in their spiritual journey.  I pray that it is always something which encourages those who read to step on a little further in the road of faith with the same sense of gratitude for God's blessings that I do as I write.  

Unlike Any Day

 Unlike any day

     came this day, 

       full of tears,

         wet bitter tears.

           tears of sorrow,

             tears of loss,

tasting like grief.

'Twas a new day,

    one not chosen,

      overwhelming 

        bringing an end

         to a lifetime

          of sweet memories,

 ne'er to be forgotten.

Unlike any day,

    came this day, 

      feet a dancing,

        hands a clapping

          spirit a singing, 

          earth now lost

for bright holy glory.

  

'Twas a new day, 

    now made ready,

      struggling body

        no longer needed,

          now thrown aside,

           a joyous soul, 

walks heaven's roads.  

Pay Attention

When I retired and came to the farm a little over twelve years ago, I looked ahead and like a foolish man figured there might be ten more good years.  Maybe I would not be jumping any fences, but still it seemed reasonable to think that there might be ten years of being able to do the stuff that needs doing around a farm.   I have been blessed with more than my anticipated ten and for each one I am grateful.  Time has a way of slipping along without our giving it too much thought, but once in awhile we are caused to stop, take account, and be grateful.   

Many a song has been written about time as well as many a verse of poetry.  And alongside of these more contemporaries efforts are the words which we find in the Sacred Word reminding us that there is a season for everything in between being conceived and dying and that at its best time is both fleeting and fragile. As the year on the calendar is ready to close, we are caused to reflect on what is past and even as I did some twelve years ago, hope for what is still to come.  

I often think of my coming here and the words which I believe God gave me as I did.  In the inner part of my being the words, "Pay Attention" was spoken.  At the time I took it to be another way of being told to smell the roses, but as the time has unfolded, it has come to mean more.  It has come to be a word which calls me to live with an openness to the ever present God who dwells here, everywhere, and with all of us.  We do not need to wait on special moments to come for if we are paying attention to the moment, we find ourselves walkng in holy presence and listening expectantly for a divine Voice which is never silent.  

Christmas Conflict

It is not every year that Christmas comes on Sunday.  While getting to worship on Easter is no big deal, getting there on Christmas is for some folks a huge problem.  Of course, the problem centers around wanting to be home for the opening of Christmas stuff around the Christmas tree on Christmas morning.  Over the years of ministry there have been numerous folks who tried to convince me not to have worship on the Sunday when Christmas fell on Sunday.  Even though attendance might have been down on Christmas Sunday, it made no sense to cancel.    

The truth is our culture never wants to be inconvenienced by the spiritual community.  The secular culture demands to have the final word and when such is challenged or questioned, the church is put into the old fashioned and out of touch category.  We see this reality fleshed out with the way it would minimize the spiritual impact of Christmas as well as a host of other things which point to the conflict between culture and faith.    

When there is conflict between the two, it always seems that culture is always the winner.  Any talk of being compromising is just talk and nothing more.  The conflict between culture and faith always seems to mean that faith must give way to the demands of culture.  Maybe such is not the case anymore.  I have been away from the pulpit now some twelve years, but I suspect there are still some places where Christmas is something which gets in the way and not something which is celebrated as a spiritual event of utmost importance to the Christian community.

Waiting

In these waning moments of Advent, we find ourselves waiting for water.  Temperatures dipping down to 17 degrees are not kind to country water wells.  Knowing that we would likely be without water today gave us reason to fill up the bathtubs with water before calling it a day yesterday, but aside from that small reservoir,  there is no water.  It was also a day for busting up the ice in the cow troughs so they could get to the precious stuff under the hard cold ice shield.  Perhaps, on Christmas Day we will receive the gift of warmer temperatures and water once again flowing from the faucets that have always brought this precious gift to us.   

Some might say this is creation's way of speaking to us one last time about the way the Advent season calls us to live in a state of anticipation and with a spirit of hopeful waiting.  Surely, it is a reminder that some days are about living with hope for tomorrow.  In a few hours the churches across the landscape will be filled with those who gather carrying this hope in their heart.  Some will go through the motions of Christmas Eve worship, but others will cling to the hope being proclaimed as if it is a matter of life and death.     

Actually, this hope which springs from our heart toward heaven is a thing of life and death.  It is a hope that what is temporal, finite, and sometimes very hard will be overcome by what is eternal and full of glory.  Christ came long ago in Bethlehem to open our eyes to this reality of life and may these days be for all of us a time of once again seeing it with the eyes of our spirit.  

As a Beating Heart

 "Be quiet, be quiet,"

     the head one said,

       "Shush, listen

           bend your ear,

             toward earth,

listen now and hear."

"Be quiet now, 

    in Bethlehem

      the holy heartbeat

        escaped the womb,

          thumping away

listen now and hear."

"Hush, busybodies,

     your flitting angels,

       hush yourselves, 

        and hear now

          divine beating,

ne'er before been heard."

"You over there,

     be quiet now,

       out of darkness

         into the light

           The Eternal Light

shines as a beating heart. 

Grateful in the Midst of Trouble

 

I am learning in time of trouble to do what I call look around the edges.  It is where reasons for gratitude can be seen when facing the trouble head on makes it hard to see anything but the trouble.  In a recent moment a look in that direction shows me a friend in Houston and one in middle Georgia who are praying each day; a neighbor and friend a little older than me coming to take hay to the cows; a young fifth grade friend who saw to the chickens: a kinsman and friend bringing a bowl of chicken and dumplings; and a local IGA owner and friend who collected an order and had it ready at the door.   

None of this is extraordinary unless you are the one on the receiving end.  And, most of us can count the people who come to us when trouble comes knocking at our door.  They cause us to have our heart filled with such gratitude that it enables us to begin to see other things in the harder places for which to be grateful.  When the Word calls us to grateful living, it does not call us to ignore or refute our trouble, but to know that blessings are always coming even though we may have to look a second time to see them.   

Some years ago I started a gratitude journal and though the list is now nearly ten years old, I can read over the brief note of gratitude written on a single line and remember so many of the moments.  It has become a record of God's faithfulness as surely as is the very Word of God.  It is something which blesses me each time I hold it and something I would pray could be in the hands of everyone when trouble comes.  

Jumping Inside Buckets

The sugar cane stalks were standing leaned against the front porch wall next to a five gallon bucket quarter filled with pecans picked up from the trees here on the farm.   Apparently, what happened was that the little fella crawled up the stalks of cane and with visions of being a trapeze artist in his head made a leap into what seemed to be the mother lode of food.  But, the bucket was only a death trap.  When I heard the tiny field mouse he was doing vertical leaps up from the pecans trying to reach the top of the bucket, but always sliding back down into those pecans.  After watching a moment or two, I turned the bucket on its side and watched him scamper away to the rest of of his life.     

I guess you could call me his deliverer.  We all need deliverers from time to time.  Some of the messes into which we get are of our making, some come because we think life might be better in the bucket, and some come to us in the indiscriminate way that speaks of life happening.  Regardless of the predicament in which we get caught, having someone to help us is such a blessed thing.  Recently, in some times of difficulty I have had some friends and neighbors help me get on my feet again.   And I am grateful for their delivering kindness.   

And, of course, when we think of being delivered, we always think of the Deliverer in our life.  God is not one to leave us in the midst of our troubles though sometimes we are quick to tell Him that such is what He seems to be doing.  The truth is far from being abandoned.  God is always out there working in our lives to get us out the buckets from which there seems to be no escape.  And when I find myself like the tiny mouse unable to help myself and not hopeful that God is going to show, I remind myself that He has been faithful in presence and help and care and deliverance in days past which finally begins to get me back on the road of hope once again.  

George Frideric Handel

I do not suppose a church could present as a musical ministry Handel's "Messiah" every year during the Christmas season, but then again, why not?  It has no comparison.  This Sunday is the one when most churches will be putting forth a major Christmas presentation, but midst all the advertising and public invitations, I have yet to see in these parts an announcement that the "Messiah" is being offered.  And while circumstances will prevent being in church this Sunday, I regret that it is not something which is being offered around here to touch the hearts of believers and to stir the church in a way unique to this 280 year old piece of music.    

Handel wrote it in 24 days and with it tells the story of the life of Christ.  From the words ""Comfort Ye, comfort Ye my people"  to the glorious "Hallelujah Chorus" at the end, there is nothing like it.  It thrills those who have heard it time and time again just to remember those Christmas moments.  A Christian college near here at to one time, and it may still be the case, always presented the Handel music and invited whoever to come and join in the singing of the Chorus at the end.  It was for many the highlight of the season.   

But, alas, Handel seems to be taking a back seat in the music corridors in these parts.  Maybe the musicians are not up to it this year.  Maybe the worshiping culture has changed to the point that Christmas music of a different variety has a stronger appeal.  Whatever the reason, something which has moved the church for 280 years deserves at least one sanctuary, or one music hall during these days.  Christmas will be missing something without it.  

Grace Gifted

Many years ago when the Christian bookstore shelves started filling up with the more modern, contemporary, and trendy versions of the Scripture, the Beatitudes along with the rest of the Bible took a licking.  The more popular trend seem to be to rid the Beatitudes of the word "Blessed"  and substitute "Happy."  Perhaps, the assumption was that modern folks would rather be happy and than blessed.  Happiness has always been something promised by secular commercialism as it hawks it magical products that if used will make folks happy, or at least more happy.    

Actually, the Beatitudes are not about being happy in the sense the secular culture thinks of happiness.  The Beatitudes are about being grace gifted.  Living in a pool of happiness is not the spiritual blessing Jesus promised, but living with an awareness that life is about being gifted by grace is exactly what He wanted us to understand.  To live as one grace gifted may not give us warm fuzzy feelings associated with being happy, but it does provide for us a life filled with gratitude that transcends any situation in which we might find ourselves as we live out our days.   

Having a lot or a little is irrelevant.  Having others see us as one who can be abused and taken advantage of is not something from which to run.  Being a peacemaker is often costly and hungering and thirsting for righteousness may put us at odds with the accepted goals of secular culture.  If we live in the whatever of life as one who knows that life is about being grace gifted instead of being happy, we will find for ourselves a new direction in life as well as the kind of contentment which is dependent upon nothing but pleasing God.  It is surely a different way of life, but then this is exactly where Jesus was pointing us when he preached those Beatitudes into existence along ago.    

Enabling Words

It is not hard to conclude that when it came time for Matthew to write his gospel, he turned to Moses and the Torah for his literary model.  Most Biblical scholars are quick to point out the similarities.  The Torah is the first five books of the Old Testament; Matthew's gospel is easily divided into five major sections.  Moses is the Old Testament law giver and Jesus is the One who comes in the New Testament times. Both were partial to mountains.  Moses went to the mountain for Ten Commandments and Jesus preached the Sermon of the Mount.    

The Ten Commandments are at the beginning of the Torah and the Beatitudes begin Matthew's gospel.  Of course, the Ten Words and the Beatitudes are vastly different.  One is about doing and the other is about being enabled.  One might argue that being obedient to the Ten Commandments is within the range of human capabilities, but not so with the Beatitudes.  The fall far outside what we can do in our own strength.  Many a beginning believer reads the Beatitudes and decides to turn his or her life into one that models those words.  It basically ends in disaster.  It is attempting to do what cannot be done through human determination alone.    

Actually, the Beatitudes point us to what God through the power of the Holy Spirit can do in a a life that is lived totally in submission to Him.  As the Spirit begins the work of shaping our inner being into the heart of Christ, these desirable spiritual qualities begin to take root and find expression in a natural and spontaneous manner.  What we are unable to do, the Holy Spirit can do.  He can enable us to live with these spiritual characteristics and qualities present in our life.  They do not show up overnight, but speak more to what happens on the journey from the beginning to Home.  

A Night to Remember

When the shepherd went running off to Bethlehem in the middle of the night, I wonder it they just left the vulnerable sheep defenseless, or if they drew straws to see who stayed to tend the sheep.  I have always voted for one of them getting the short straw and having to stay with the sheep while the others raced off to see the one of whom the angels spoke.  Getting left is never easy.  It is not easy especially when you want to go, but most likely one of them missed out on the manger scene and only heard about it second hand.   

I remember a time years ago during my years at Asbury College when a group of us went out on a lay witness mission.  We ended up in a parsonage in Jeffersonville, Indiana,   Somehow the rest went ahead to the place where the service was being held and I got left at the parsonage.  The pastor offered me his car which he never should have done because there was snow on the ground and I was from a land where it never snowed.  But, I went and arrived late and remember feeling the whole time that I should not have been there.    

Obviously, the memory of that night has lingered.  I figured years ago that there was some reason I was to stay at the parsonage, but I was too headstrong and ego bent to be able to hear that message.  When I think of that time, it is for me a moment of wondering what I missed that God wanted me to do by being so stubborn as to go when I should have stayed.  Maybe those moments are more common than I realize, but there are times when God has something planned and we just go our way ignoring His leading and something does not get done that He wanted to do through us.  The night remembered long years ago has always had that kind of feeling when I remember it.

The Shepherds

Whenever I think about the Christmas story as it is told in the Word, it is the old shepherds which intrigue me the most.  While I know little first hand about sheep or shepherds, reading has pointed me to learning that the shepherds likely had an odor about them which caused the town people to be glad they did their work out in the fields. They seem to be a rare breed who enjoyed the rigors of being outdoors and the challenge of keeping safe vulnerable animals.    

Perhaps, the most famous of the Biblical shepherds was David who fought Goliath and became the King of Israel, but I find that I am still partial to those unnamed guys who were visitors to Mary and Joseph on the night of the birth of Jesus.  What strike me most is that they were the most unlikely ones to be the first which is the way God works.  God always is full of surprises using the most unlikely people to do His work. They came to the birth place with no gifts except their eagerness to see what the angels had told them.   

And, perhaps, that is one the things their story tells us.  Over the years of celebrating this ancient story of the birth of Jesus into our world, we have lost our own eagerness to see and to know with wonder and amazement what is really out there for us to see.  Everything about the season has become so ho-hum that we have lost the sense of mystery and magic which is a shame since there is so much of it in the story of the holy miracle which showed up in Bethlehem.  Without being captivated by the mystery of that moment, we become like the poet wrote, folks who are content with picking blackberries when heaven is exploding all around us.  

Come, Holy One

 Come,  Holy One, 

     if You dare,

       to walk here,

         with bare feet

           on cold ground

            full of thorns,

all waiting for You.

Come, Gracious One,

     if You must, 

       for the sake

         of divine love,

           unrelenting grace,

            so greatly needed

by us, the waiting ones.

Come, Bold One,

    if You will,

      to deep darkness,

       the waiting womb,

         the stone cold tomb   

           made for another,

bu ready now for You.

Come, Raised Up One,

     for one last look,

      from the wooden cross,

       then, the glorious sky

         at those who are here, 

          listening for a name, 

a call to come Home with You. 

The Heartbeat of Heaven

The other day my barber who is a part time Baptist preacher and I were discussing Christmas preaching as only two seventy four year old preachers could do  "What is there new to be preached on Christmas Sunday?" he asked.  My father-in-law long years ago often told me, 'There is nothing you can say on Christmas which has not already been said."  My father-in-law was right, but we preachers keep trying to do the impossible anyway.  I suppose the effort is mostly about our ego.    

The truth is a good story can stand on its own.  It needs no commentary to hold it up.  Think about the really good stories read in the past and there is also a remembrance that once the story was done, nothing was needed.  The second chapter of Luke is that kind of story.  It is a story read in most churches sometime during the Christmas season and, perhaps, most often during Christmas Eve worship.  Just to remember the story is to hear its word floating through the air of our memory.  It is such a powerful story it will always be read and heard in wonder by those who are really listening.   

The only two problems with the story are found in the reader and the listener.  The readers are often tempted about the place where the angels start shouting to go into speed reading mode.  The end starts appearing and the reader starts hurrying to get there instead of letting the words slowly pour out upon the ears that are listening.  And, then, the other side of the problem is that those who are hearing the story quit listening about the same time because it has been heard so many times.  Everyone knows the ending, so why listen?  It is a shame we cannot have ears to hear the whole story.  There is no more powerful story ever written and we are likely to miss out on hearing the heartbeat of heaven as it pounds through ancient words.  Maybe this year it will be different.

Christmas Musing

Sometimes it seems that I have lived through a thousand Christmas Days.  And, then there are also those times when it seems that there has only been one Christmas in my life.  Without trying to rob others of the joy known in these days, I must confess to the season always being a hard time.  It would seem after all these years that such would not be the case, but some moments are not only unforgettable, but they are also life shaping.  The death of my father on December 19 back when I was seven years ago was such a day.  I suppose it has caused me to identify with a group of people who remember December not because it is the month of Christmas, but because it is the month of deep loss.  

I do not remember much about Christmas in my seventh year and, to be honest, is to confess to not remembering a lot of them in the years which followed.  There are good memories mixed in through the years, but there is no way to run away from something so profound so long ago.  I have come to understand that not everyone finds Christmas to be full of joy.   What has transpired in the years is that I have found myself turning more and more to the Christ whose coming is remembered and celebrated in these days  The worship and music and keeping of the traditions has been like healing ointment on an ever present wound which never is completely healed.  

The One born among us also lived among us, suffered among us, died among us, and finally rose from the place of total despair among us.  It is His life, this divine life so graciously lived among us, which has transformed these days which would be filled with nothing but loss into a season which is brim full of hope for all that is known through the Christ and all that is still to be known through Him.  And so as a man who still remembers his brokenness, I praise the One who has come to heal our brokenness.

A Sesquicentennial Mistake

I was just a tad over thirty years of age and knew more than most when the Talbotton United Methodist Church celebrated its sesquicentennial year.  It was a Sunday which caused this young preacher to be so full of himself as not being able to see clearly.  It was an auspicious day, a day when a plaque was placed on the grounds declaring the church a historical site in the South Georgia Annual Conference, and a day when Bishop William R. Cannon came to preach.  It was also the day Felder Spivey was not allowed to play his trumpet in the worship service.    

It is strange the things remembered.  Felder often provided special music in worship in the church, but not on this Sunday about impressing the world.  Felder was old.  He could have been old enough to remember the first of those 150 years and so when he played it was less than perfect.  He lacked the wind he once had and sometimes his notes sounded a bit off key and a little wet, but it was good enough for normal times.  But, when the Bishop came, those of us who knew best told Felder it was not a good day for him to play his trumpet.   

Strange, that what I remember most was my biggest mistake.  Actually, it was more than a mistake.  It spoke of failure.  The old man who remembers now knows that the old trumpet player should have had his moment to give what he had to give to the day.  He was us.  We were all flawed in what we were doing, but we just could not see it then.  He represented the whole of us in a way that spoke of both its past and its present.  Felder has long since gone to the place where trumpet players are welcomed.  Somehow I wish he were still around to tell him my ego made a big mistake and ask for his forgiveness.  

Stockpiling

When it comes to personal security or the security of our family, most of us are into stockpiling.  The bigger the stockpile, the more secure we feel.  The only problem with stockpiles is that they can disappear in a heartbeat.  Financial market can collapse and catastrophic illness, or unexpected long term care can wipe out even the largest stockpile.  Stockpiling is what we do.  It speaks to our need for planning and there is nothing inherently wrong about it.  But, it is like a stack of wood next to the house before the first onslaught of winter.  It gets burned up in a hurry.    

The Scripture is not against stockpiling, but against living without trust in God to provide.  Back in the 16th chapter of Exodus, there is an ancient story which speaks of God's plan for us.  It is a story that that reminds us that He can be trusted to provide what is needed for today.  Of course, what we think is needed and what He knows is needed is often vastly different.  As we read this story about manna from heaven, we see in narrative form the truth that God not only is ready to provide, but that He can be trusted.   

The problem with our stockpiles is that they often speak of the trust we have in ourselves to provide for our needs.  They can give us such a sense of well  being that we begin living without dependence on God as our Provider.  And, of course, a secondary issue in trusting in our stockpiles instead of God is that we are less likely in being generous in our giving to the needs of others.  If it is mine, we might hold on a little tighter, but if we are confident God is going to provide enough for our needs, we are also more confident about sharing with others. 

The Big Lie

One of the more difficult things for the pulpit pounders and the pew sitters to do is to understand the difference between the church, as a spiritual community centered on Jesus, and the church as an institution which constantly requires its pound of loyalty.  For those who are trained and ordained, there often comes that moment of realizing that everything is about keeping the institution afloat with more money, bigger memberships, and  larger buildings, but by that time, too much has been invested to admit the basic misdirection and so the lie has bought another evangelist.  And through trickle down theology and flawed leadership,  the new lie gains more adherents who embrace the misdirected truth that the church and the institution are one in the same.    

It takes awhile of living with the truth that is finally revealed in the mirror each morning to enter into the kind of repentance which is likely to actually mean real change.  The real change needed is not in the church, but in the one who is a part of the many of make up the church as we know it in the world.  When the lie is finally exposed, there is an accompanying awareness that "who I am is not who I was"  and a desire for what can never be given, a do-over.  

The real church is not a myth which belongs to the Biblical past.  It is the red stained cross created church fanned into life by the hot breath of the Holy Spirit.  It requires none of the condiments of the institutional church, but only simple Word centered preaching, worship and praise that is not tethered to whimsical trends or stuffy rituals, and a life of being instead of one busy doing.  This Jesus centered spiritual community has always been present in the invisible realm of the Kingdom and waits only for those who see to enable it to be the church incarnate alive and moving in the world.  And so, it waits for you and me.       

Taking Off Blinders

It is easy to walk through the day without seeing some of the important things which are happening around us.  It is not that we are blind, or uncaring, but that we simply are in such a hurry that life for us is like life with blinders.  We only see part of what there is to see.  As I look back over the years with hindsight afforded old age, I find myself seeing things which could have been seen more clearly instead of only partially. And even now with eyes that are more attuned to searching, there is so much seen not in the moment but in hindsight.   

People watching is one of the the windows which opens up some of heaven's messages to us, but it is an art that must be done carefully lest someone find themselves being made afraid of someone who is obviously watching.  I remember an older woman who no longer had the ability to stay focused on the written words, yet, who often picked up her Bible, held it in her laps, and rubbed it with her hands.  Had she not found a new way for the Word to touch her spirit?  I think so.  And then there are those whom we see at times singing, but not loudly.  Their singing is more like whispers that are loud enough to be heard only by God the Father.  Who knows how this almost silent singing sounds when it becomes a part of the heavenly chorus.?     

Such things might seem like trivia to many who have no eyes to see the Kingdom of God becoming present in their midst.  And the same might be said of the ones who dare to stop their hurrying and bring a sack of food to some homeless guy set up at a traffic light, or a box of tissues to someone whose life is obviously being turned upside down, or  a kind word which declares to someone who is hurting that they are being seen.  Important things are happening every day.  You and I can choose to be a part of them, or we can hurry on down the road to things that speak more of our own pursuits than the pursuits of the Kingdom.  

Give Me Jesus

It seems that this must be the year of the inflatable Christmas decorations.  A few places around here have so many in the yard that it is hard to see the house.  And, there is no theme, but a blend of trees, white snow people, nativity gatherings, and things I can not figure out.  It is not like the days of seeing how many lights can be strung out across the yard, but instead, it is about seeing how many inflatables will be standing after the afternoon breeze.  Of course, when folks see the place where I live, they are likely to think Mr. Scrooge lives there.    

I have a friend who takes a different course.  There is a lot of indoor decoration, but it is not about trees and colored lights, but creating what seems to be worship areas within the home.  She has created mini centers throughout the house which focus on themes like joy or peace. The lighting is candle soft, the icons are simple, and the message is not confused.  It is easy to imagine her stopping in front of these places honoring the season and the Christ for a moment of worship and praise.  

Everyone is different.  Some like what is full of tinsel and others want soft candle light.  I suppose the real important thing to consider is that it is the time for anticipating and celebrating the birth of the Christ who came to be a Savior.  Our decorations are not competitions, but expressions of what we value during these holy days.  I recognize my bias shows, but just give me Jesus and I will be delighted every time.

A Word from Merton

I have been reading more Thomas Merton lately.  "New Seeds of Contemplation" is the writing which I do not seem to be able to finish enough to put down.  I must be keeping it too close since I am constantly picking it up for some more reading.  The piece which has stuck in my spirit most recently is a commentary on the High Priestly Prayer of Jesus where He speaks of the disciples being in the world, but not of the world.  It is found in the 17th chapter of the gospel of John.  Most of us have read it more times than we can count.  

 Merton offers this word:  "What is this 'world' that Christ would not pray for, and of which He said that His disciples were in it, but not of it?  The world is the unquiet city of those who live for themselves and are therefore divided against one another in a struggle that cannot end,...It is the city of those who are fighting for possessions of limited things and for the monopoly of goods, and pleasures that cannot be shared by all."  There is, of course, more, but this smidgen of truth is enough to turn over in the minds that are not accustomed to entertaining such profound thinking.  We prefer truths that tantalize, not those that probe our souls.   

While reading what others write about the Scripture can become a crutch for actually reading and meditating on the Word, it is also true that there are those who are ahead of us on the journey that have seen light not normally seen by most of us as we hurry along.  Merton was less caught up in the hurrying of living as we tend to be and there is much to be learned from those who dare to walk the road at a slower pace.  It is not that they give us answers so much as they cause us to look again at the ones on which we have settled.

A Writing Ministry

I remember some time back reading an author who wrote that before she started writing she asked for God's blessings on the words which were about to be created before her.  After decades of preaching and praying similar prayers, I can understand and appreciate what she was doing. Lately, as the ministry entrusted to me by the calling God has turned away from preaching into writing, I appreciate her words even more.  I could never have imagined writing what has turned into an almost every day word, but such is what has unfolded in this season of my life.    

Writing has proven to be different than preaching in a number of ways.  There are no faces to encourage me or to warn me that I am losing folks.  The response is mostly minimal though there are some who are kind enough to let me hear from them.  But, I suppose the biggest difference is that those who read this writing ministry are from a much larger area and represent a far more diverse group than any congregation which sat before me.    

Like preaching it is important that what is written is centered on the Word.  The Scripture was the authority for preaching and it remains the authority for what is written and shared through these efforts at writing.  The biggest difference in then and now has become the growing awareness that God is present.  He is present in every place and present in every moment.  While this has been known for a long time, these days of writing from the farm in the midst of the creation which surrounds me has created an even greater expectation of seeing His presence and hearing His voice in my daily journey with Him..   

Bottom of the Barrel

If you find yourself looking at the bottom of the barrel, some surprising things and unexpected people may come into view.  Some say what is found at the bottom are the leftovers, or the residue, or what no one wants after the best has been taken off the top.  All of this may well be true.  Over the years I have become convinced God spends a lot of time plundering around at the bottom of the barrel.  When we look at some of the folks He called in the Biblical story, He surely seems there could have been better choices, but there He is reaching down to what is at the bottom.   

Jacob was certainly not such a hot pick.  He was always up to getting the things he wanted one way or the other.  And, Moses was certainly not pick of the litter material.  This bottom of the barrel dweller was a murderer and a fugitive when God found him in the wilderness.  Then, there is Rahab, a woman most would not choose and Simon Peter whose temper was always a problem.  And, finally, who would want Saul of Tarsus on your team if you were on the Christian team?  Not even Ananias was sure this was a good choice.    

But, the biggest reason I know God often goes to the bottom of the barrel to get folks to do His bidding is because that is where He surely must have found me when He called me to preach.  Maybe it was a mistake and I overheard Him calling someone else, but, of course, I do not really believe I heard Him wrong when He called my name.  But, I have always been amazed.  There were surely better choices.  I suppose He had His reasons,  And while I am not sure I will ever understand why He would have wanted me to spend a life preaching the gospel and standing in His stead in some tough places, I am eternally grateful.  The call has made all the difference in the journey and this bottom of the barrel dweller knows it better than anyone else.  

The Unclouded Day

My Uncle Alvin was a very special uncle.  He was my mother's youngest brother and when my father died, he came to live with us for a time.  He slept on the twin bed next to mine and taught me a lot of life's lessons about things like washing your face in the morning and not being afraid of the dark at night.  My uncle was not a church going person, but he was one who often whistled songs they sang in church so I reckon he must have gone sometime even though I have no memory of him being there on Sunday morning.   

I cannot say I ever heard him sing, but he could whistle.  His favorite church song which he often whistled was "Oh, they tell me of a land far beyond the skies, Oh, they tell me of a land far away, Oh, they tell me of a land where no storm clouds rise, Oh, they tell me of an unclouded day."  (The Unclouded Day)  As I got older and able to see things more clearly, I came to know that he had more than just a few storm clouds in his life.  Things were not always easy for him, but he still always presented care and kindness and love as he shared the growing up days with me.  

I think of my uncle often and when I do, I do something he did not do, I sing his favorite song.  I do not whistle nearly as good as I remember him.  And, I have learned to appreciate his song and the longing it speaks to in our hearts.  Though we will fight for the last breath of this earth's life since this is the way God has made us, there is also that part deep within us which longs for the land of the unclouded day, a  place where as the Word says, "And there will be no more night, but the Lord God will be there light..."  (Revelation 22:5)  Sure sounds like my Uncle Alvin's unclouded day.

He is There

 No matter where,

   He is there,

     in the dark, 

      there with light,

       no just any light,

bright Eternal Light.

 

No mater the silence,

   He is speaking,

      not even deaf ears,

        are unable to hear,

          not just any voice,

the everlasting Voice.

  

No matter the lonliness,

    He is alongside

      sometimes unseen,

        never separated,

          He is there

for those He loves.

  

No matter how forsaken,

    as was the Holy Man

      who hung on a cross,

         crying out His pain,

           the common pain, 

to the heart of He who is there.

A Life Changing Journey

No matter what "they" say, one size never fits all.  We see things advertised like this everywhere.  It is truly more about selling more than the satisfaction of the customer.  People who are selling have learned that the consumer has learned after all these years to get by with whatever it is that is being offered.  But, the truth is my head is bigger, or smaller, than some other people.  And my hands don't match the one size fits all fingers in gloves.  Stuff is mostly about getting by with whatever these days.   

Sometimes it seems that this attitude has spilled over into the church.  People in the church no longer demand sound Biblical doctrine.  Or, maybe it is more that the we have become so acclimated to how the secular culture is defining Biblical truth that we no longer really know for ourselves what the Bible is actually saying.  There are folks out there who will tell us that one size glove fits every hand and there are also folks out there in the church disguised as dispensers of God's Word who are quick to give us a version that fits their needs which in their mind should fit fine for everyone else as well.   

Actually, one size never fits all.  And, even more so, Biblical truth is Biblical truth, not someone's version of it.  What is needed in some places are not more educated and bright teachers of truths that do not hold water, but folks who are willing to sit down with the Word of God and find out for themselves what it is really saying.  Such does not require a set of commentaries, or an ordained preacher.  All it requires is an open Bible and a willingness to let the Holy Spirit do the the leading.  For some one who has never taken this journey, it will be both surprising and life changing.  

Call to Prayer

Just now there came into the silence of this place the steady drone of an airplane on its way from where it left to where it is going.  As an old man with a young boy's memory of an airplane that did not bring my father back home one day long years ago, such sounds are usually noted.  An while it is not true every time, it is often the case that when I hear or see a plane flying overhead, I offer a prayer that those who are above me will see loved ones at the end of the day.  There are always visible and audible reminders to pray for others, but most of the time we are not tuned into what the Spirit might be saying.    

I remember back in the days when I was pastor at Vidalia moments when the sound of an emergency vehicle would break into the sounds of worship and I wanted to stop what was happening and pray.  I have often wondered what it was that kept me from doing it, but sadly, the sound passed by and out of hearing without the prayers of a church that could have prayed.  But, it was not the church's failure. It was the pastor's who was its spiritual leader.   

The truth is there are many sights and sounds which intrude into our space each day which could be seen as the Holy Spirit calling us to pause for a moment of care through an act of prayer.  Some of those things are surely a reminder that someone is in trouble and though we may not know the particulars, we do not need to know in order to lift up someone's difficulty before the Father.  Perhaps, the beginning point is in asking God for ears to hear, eyes to see, and a heart that will not rest until it reaches out through the power of the Holy Spirit to offer some expression of compassion for an unknown sufferer, or someone like ourselves, who is on the way to somewhere from where they are.

Men of Faith

There are times when memories come crashing from who knows where.  Tonight I have been remembering some friends from my Young Harris College days:  Sheppard and Mobley, next door roommates who put up a Christmas tree with strung popcorn that kept disappearing, Tom, my roommate who taught me how to knot a tie and other things, Dwight who led me off a pier into the cold waters of Lake Chatuge one hot July afternoon, Claude, a guy whose personality filled any room, Harold, with whom I learned about being a circuit rider in the North Carolina mountains, and Walter, a quiet guy who had a deep powerful singing voice.    

These guys were men of faith in Christ back then and remain so today.  They each had shaping power on my life at a time when it could have very easily gone awry.  With the exception of two of them, I still have some contact with each one.  Obviously, they are all different and each one of us has changed in the years since those days long ago.  And though we may not all fit under the same theology tent, each one has been rooted in Christ, and thus, has been individually shaped by the Spirit in a way that speaks of God's plan for them.    

Grace did not make them all like me.  One of me is more than enough.  Grace created these men to accomplish something in the places He put them without any consultation with me.  So, it is with all of us.  We are who we are.  We are the person God is shaping for His plans for us.  There is more than enough grace to go around so that each one of us are shaped by this Christ to Whom we chose to be rooted through faith.   

Advent 2022

In most liturgically bent churches, Advent took front and center stage at worship today.  There is plenty of ritual to go around the altar, greenery abounds, and, of course, in the middle of it all is the Advent Wreath with all those candles.  And while there is a theologically correct liturgy which accompanies the Wreath on its journey through the four Sundays of Advent, in many places it is more like a count down to Christmas mechanism which does nothing to slow things down, but instead, seems to turn into just another thing to do to get ready for Christmas.   

In many places Advent has lost its unique identity and been turned into a season which somehow corresponds to the secular getting ready for Christmas which always is going full steam ahead by Thanksgiving.  Advent was never intended to be a busy season, but a quiet one.  When it is rightly understood and observed, it is a time where silence is welcomed and the pace is slowed down to provide spiritual breathing room.  It is not a time for arriving at Christmas, but a time for a journey that enables us to know the value of waiting on God to act in His own time as well as to know what it is to live with hope.   

Everything we want is not on its way today.  Today's culture communicates a different thing to us as it provides next day delivery, instant gratification, and advertising that convinces us that nothing is beyond our means.  Advent is about waiting and hoping.  It is about trusting that the Eternal Light which shined on the moment of creation and the moment of incarnation is really out there and will once again light up the darkness in which we live in such a way that there is no darkness, only the glorious eternal light that overcomes.   

The Eternal Light

At night the farm is a dark place.  No artificial light shines.  No line of streetlights.  No security lights on poles.  About a half mile away can be seen a light on the side of the nearest neighbor's house, but then, only during the season of the fallen foliage. Otherwise, it is natural light.  Natural light is the light that comes from the stars, but mostly from the moon.  Without the moon it is truly dark, but in most moments there is something special about the deep darkness.    

Interestingly enough, once the eyes get accustomed to the absence of light, things which seemed invisible move into the realm of the discernible.  What is discerned may not be seen clearly, but there are things to see even when the darkness seems to be overcoming.  Maybe there is always light even when the light cannot be seen.  "The light shines in darkness. and the darkness did not overcome it."  (John 1:5)  Later John, the Apostle and writer of the gospel which bears his name will speak of the Light of the World.  It is this Light, this Eternal Light, which always shines in the darkness.    

What we know is that there is a darkness which is even deeper than the darkness of the farm without artificial lights.  It is the darkness which settles over the soul in an unrelenting way.  It is the darkness which seems bent on destroying all that is good within us.  It is a darkness into which we all walk from time to time.  In the midst of it, we can be still for a moment and we will surely know that the Light which cannot be overcome or extinguished is out there shining to light up the way.

1000 Gifts

Ever since Dick and Jane and their dog, Spot, ran across the pages of the book in front of me, I have been an avid reader.  Some books are read and put aside.  Some are read and kept because they are timeless classics.  And, some have the power to change our spiritual life.  One such book came to me back in 2013.  It was written by Ann Voskamp and is entitled, "1000 Gifts."  I remember the date because it was when I started my gratitude journal.  The Voskamp book chronicled her listing of 1000 blessings for which she was thankful within a year.  Next Lent I will be working on mine for ten years and have just now written down gift number 645 for which I am thankful.    

But, the book is more than just a listing of things for which she is thankful  Much more.  In it she also shares her own spiritual journey for that year in a way that enables us to share deep loss with her as well as moments so filled with joy and praise that she dances before the full moon.  It is a book I have recommended over and over to many people through the years.     

Good books are always shared with others.  Her book has helped me pay more attention to the blessings which are all around me.  The fact that I have only recorded 645 does not speak to a lack of blessings for which I am thankful, but being undisciplined as a journal keeper.  My list is not a list of super extraordinary things but stuff like (642) the gift of red handled knife, (643) a phone call expressing care, (644) a Thanksgiving Day lunch shared with two special folks, and (645) a good night's sleep. Anyone open to reading a book which will have a powerful impact on their spiritual journey is invited to read "1000 Gifts" and, oh yes, start a gratitude journal.  

Truly Grateful People

Those who are truly grateful are not those with large portfolios of accumulations.  Accumulations of stuff do not make for grateful hearts.  At least, not always.  They more likely make for a desire for more.  There is something about seeing the stockpile grow that makes us want for more.  It would seem that it would breed satisfaction and contentment, but everything never seems to be enough.   Jesus told us about such a man in one of His parables.  Ir might seem to those who have the smaller piles that bigger piles would make an ungrateful person into a grateful one, but such is not necessarily true.    

The truly grateful people are those who live mindful that life is filled with both blessings and grace.  Those who live with an awareness of being blessed in the moment of conception with the gift of life also are aware that it is the same stream of blessing which has sustained them through the days of birth and on throughout the journey.  And as surely as life is about blessing, so is it about grace. We live thinking we have control, but the truth is, there is very little of the stuff which really matters that exists under our control.  We could even go so far as to say nothing is really absolutely dependent on us and our efforts and everything is absolutely dependent on this thing called grace which along with blessings comes from God. 

It is God's gift of grace which makes us into who we are for that grace is always seeking to restore us to Him and finally bring us the Home He is preparing.   To live aware of the blessings touching our life and the grace which gives it purpose are things which make us grateful in a way that a storehouse of accumulations could never do.  The truly grateful people in our midst know this and live with a grateful spirit instead of one never satisfied.  

Addendum on Trust

Not too many days ago, I wrote a blog post entitled "Bedrock" which focused on trust in God.  An old friend of mine who is a faithful reader sent me a comment via email which simply read, "though He slay me, yet will I trust in Him."  (Job 13:15, KJV)  Some of the more modern renderings of this verse put the act of God acting in such a way in a more sanitized and not so offensive manner.  The old King James Version seems to do a better job of rendering the intent of the Word.  Job is speaking of trust in a way that goes far beyond our modern easy renderings of the word.   I am not sure I have ever thought of trust in God in such a dramatic fashion.  Perhaps, some of the missionaries who took themselves and their families into perilous situations had an understanding of this verse that most of us miss.  

I remember a young man who served with me on the pastoral staff at Vidalia who had a strong call to the mission field.  It was one he could not lay aside and so off he went with his wife and two small children to Liberia.  Before it was said and done, he found himself in the midst of a civil war where his life and the life of his family was in great danger.    He would likely say the actions which saved his family were more instinctual than heroic, but those of us who heard the story would disagree.  Or, maybe it was, after all the God in whom he trusted who did the delivering.  Regardless, the action of missionaries like him and others model what it might mean for us to trust God even if that trust costs us our lives.   

Trust and faith is a word which gets cast around rather lightly from many a pulpit and from many a person who talks about walking with Christ.  It is the main words of the t-shirt, and the object of many a trite slogan, but it is so much more than any of this.  It amounts to putting our life on the line for God.  It means saying to God He has a blank check.  Whatever it is that He wants to do with our life is His to choose.  We turn loose the controls and put ourselves in His sure hands even if the cost is death itself.        

Not Forgotten

I was seven years old when my father left home one December morning for a regular day at work as a  crewman in a B-29 bomber.  It was also the first day he went to work and did not come home.  Instead, there was a collision in the air with another plane involved in the training mission and everything about life changed by the time night had fallen.  And, as I remember those days, they were also the first days that I came to believe that there was a heaven.  To think otherwise was unthinkable..   

It has always seemed a bit strange that something so full of theological mystery would warrant so little attention in the church.  Of course, it gets plenty of attention in most places on Easter Sunday, though such cannot be guaranteed.  And, most funerals are accompanied with multiple assurances that the one being laid to rest is surely in heaven.  Still, it seems that something so large and so filled with eternity would receive pulpit time on at least a few other Sundays during the course of the year.   But, the truth is, it is a forgotten, or omitted part of the preaching which comes from most pulpits.  

The one thing preachers and churches do not want to do is to appear to be other worldly.  Those who speak too much about heaven, or even any at all, are likely to hear voices criticizing them for ignoring the suffering realities of the world that is here.  Why it has to be either or is a troubling mystery.  There is room through the course of the year for both.  And, as much as folks want help in the day to day stuff, they also seem to have a desire not to know the details of heaven, but to have the way toward that eternal home pointed out to them and even celebrated as a very real part of the spiritual journey.  

Glory! Glory! Glory!

Over yonder is where we are going.  "There's a land that is fairer than day, and by faith we can see it afar, for the Father waits over the way to prepare us a dwelling place there.  In the sweet by and by, we shall meet on that beautiful shore, in the sweet by and by, we shall meet on that beautiful shore."  (In the Sweet By and By)  So many of us are getting closer to the land where so many have gone ahead.  The older we get, the more of those we know now wait for us on the other side.    

The other side of the River is just over yonder now. Sometimes it seems that the moving waters can be heard pushing against those golden shores, sometime it seems that the fragrance of the holy water is in the air, and sometimes it seems that voices singing out "Glory!" can be heard on this the earthly side.  The older we get, the less does it seem that the shore on the other side of River is so far away.    So many have made it across.  Our fathers and mothers have made the journey.  Grandparents and others, too.  Maybe even some whose memory still brings pain to our heart have made it across the way and wait there for us.  Some have been there for what seems to us like such a long, long time, but to them on heaven's shore it is likely more like an immeasurable fleeting moment of eternity.  

There they wait,  They wait on the other side of the River, but they are not alone.  The Father waits with them.  The Son shines forth midst the Eternal Light which comes from within Him.  And, the Holy Spirit, waits and watches, and rejoices that so many of the saints have gathered on the other shore and are waiting for us to come and join with them in singing, "Glory!  Glory to the Father!  Glory to the Son! Glory to the Spirit!  Amen!"

Lord, Help Us.

When we pray there is no doubt in my mind that God hears.  I am of the persuasion that no prayer goes unheard.  It is hard to perceive of God calculating our prayers as being worth hearing, or worthy of the trash pile.  So, I guess the real personal issue is not whether or not God hears our prayers, but why some seem to hang out there in some spiritual space where prayers go when the response is not immediate.  There have been prayers I have prayed for decades which are still on going prayer concerns.  I keep going back to them from time to time, but still they linger as one of the unsettled prayers of my spirit.   

And, what I also know is that so many of my prayers have been heard and I have been blessed to see the desires of those prayers come to pass.  To say that there are more unanswered and unresolved prayers than there are those of the other category would not be true.  I suppose what is true is that those which hang out there as if they are not being heard are the ones which touch our hearts more deeply and which are desired with more intensity that most.  I must confess to not understanding.    

But, I must also confess that my lack of understanding does not turn me away from praying.  Jesus said to pray.  Jesus prayed.  The people of faith about whom I have read prayed.  My mother prayed.  Prayer is embedded in who I am.  When I do not know what to do, when I know what is being faced is beyond my ability to manage, and when I know divine help is the only answer, I am going to pray.  What God does with those prayers is up to Him as it always is.  But, I am going to pray.  And pray.  He will just have to deal with my persistence and my lack of understanding and sometimes anger about His response.  One day maybe what is unclear in these days for us will be clearly seen which sounds like a heavenly prospect.  "Lord, help us,help us.  Amen."

The Plan

So many people are living without any awareness of the plan for their life.  Certainly, none of us live our lives empty of plans   Many have made some good plans for their days which include the big factors for the equation of life such as education, work, family, and even retirement.  And, of course, there are others whose plans carry them toward the edge of self destruction and even beyond.  To say we live empty of plans is not true,  If plans would save us, point us toward what is the very best for our life, we would not need the plan, but of course, all the lesser plans we go after leave us without something required for the most purposeful life.    

The most purposeful life comes from embracing the plan of God for our life.  One of the most oft quoted verse of Scripture about this plan is from Jeremiah 29:11 which says, "For surely I know plans that I have made for you, says the Lord, plans for your welfare and not for harm, to give you a future with hope."  From the very beginning we are reminded that we were not conceived in our mother's womb without purpose.  We do not need to wait for Jeremiah to know this.  All we need to do is to seriously read the book of beginnings in the sacred Word. 

Some may think otherwise.  Some may think more of some random role of the dice, but when we read the first words of the Holy Word, it is clear that what and who is created are created as creations which bear the imprint of the Holy One.  There is nothing about the creation account in Scripture which would suggest that all that is came into being randomly.  On the contrary, every act of creation bears the imprint and the intention of of holy purpose.  We were conceived within the plan of God and we were born into it.  The problem for so many is living into it.  

Sounds in the Night

When I was a boy I lay in the darkness and listened to the clanking sounds of freight trains crawling into town and the sounds of dogs barking at one one another in the distance.  Here when the old man lays down in the night, there are no sounds to hear.  Leash laws seems to have hushed the dogs and the nearest train rails are too far away to hear.  However, once in awhile on a night like tonight the distant highway sounds slip onto the farm through the moisture laden air heavy on the ground.  The sound of rubber rolling on asphalt is as distinctive as the whistle of a train engine as it rumbles toward a crossing.  

These distant night time sounds are a reminder that while I am here and still, others are out there moving toward another place in their life.  The truth is we are all moving toward the next place in our life.  We may think we know what that looks like, but many times we end up being surprised.  Some of those who are still out there moving from where they are to where they are going may be going to safe places, but others may find some trouble or difficulty awaiting them.  We never know where those who are going are going.  

What we can do as we hear the sounds of their going is to pray for them.  Some may be travelling with a heavy heart, others going aimlessly with no purpose, and some are distracted by the things which have been troubling their spirits throughout the day.  The Spirit speaks to us in many ways as He calls us to pray for one another.  We cannot always know the stranger's trouble, but we can know that he or she is out there with a life that is unraveling.  Maybe the reason we hear the sounds in the night, or see the things that are often missed in our hurrying is the Spirit's way of calling us to help them.  Maybe the Spirit is calling us to pray for the unknown stranger still out there in the darkness going to some place where whatever is still unfolding.

'Twas a Dream

"As if in a dream and maybe it was, I watched them from afar.  They were down below and I seemed to be somehow suspended between up and down, here and there, and here and not yet there.  They were twelve as I determined after they settled down around the table which was spread with what seemed to be rather meager fare, some bread, a piece of lamb, and cups half filled with purple wine.  Listening to their conversation I began to understand that this was no ordinary group of twelve men, but twelve very holy men.  

There was one who seemed to be talking more than the others and what he talked about mostly was what he did one night in an open courtyard.  "Traitor," he called himself.  And I heard another down a seat or two saying how sorry he had doubted what all the others knew to be true.  A big burly guy who was listening only laughed and with wine dripping from his beard spoke of a prejudice toward the small town people.  It was a room filled with loud voices, the laughter of men, and the strong smell of fermented drink.  With an ear now tuned to what was unfolding in the recesses of my mind and being seen by the eye of my spirit, I knew that this group was no ordinary gathering of men, but a holy band of twelve about whom I had read in the holy book since I had  learned to read.  Sensing that this vision was beginning to fade with the morning light, I strained to hear every voice and to see into every corner. 

It was in those fading fleeting moments that I saw him.  At first sight, there was surprise, but he looked as happy as the rest.  He laughed and listened and those around him seemed pleased with his presence.  As the moment was disappearing, I heard his voice, a distinctive one speaking of the desire he had once had for money and something about thirty pieces of silver.  Each of them looked like men made new and fit for eternity and each bore the red stain not of wine, but of shed blood which seemed to loudly say, 'All forgiven.' "  

God is Good

 A popular religious platitude that I simply cannot stand is the one which is expressed with the words, "God is good, all the time."  Of course, He is.  He is good.  And, He is good all the time.  Perhaps, what sits in my craw is the way it is used.  It is most often used when something good happens such as someone getting well who has been sick, or someone walking away from an automobile accident which should have killed them, or someone getting an answer to prayer just in the nick of time.  Such things and others like them are most likely candidates for "God is good, all the time."    

By the time everyone gets through responding in kind, it sounds like a heavenly chorus out there singing about the goodness of God.  But, what about those moments when healing does not come, a accident victim dies, or God seems to be silent in the face of unrelenting persistent prayer.  In those moments no one is out there crying out loudly,  "God is good, all the time."   Does not the platitude say "all the time" which surely must include these moments when God does not seem to be watching, or listening, or responding in the way we want Him to respond?  

The hard truth is that God is good.  He is good even when the results we want are not really seen by us as being good.  He is good even if no one dares to say it in the face of a loss, or unanswered prayer.  We want to make good relevant, but God's goodness is not relevant, it is absolute.  It is as absolute on Sunday as it is on Friday and it is as absolute in the days when the sun is shining as it is when the sun is hidden by dark stormy clouds.  Maybe my problem is not with the fact that God is good, but the way that goodness is often held forth as something which is conditional.  It is not.  God is good.  God's goodness never changes.  His nature speaks of goodness.  He can be nothing other than good.

Bedrock

If we walk long enough, we will walk into some hard times.  We will walk into some darkness which is so black that there seems to be no light at all shining anywhere.  Not even the Eternal Light.  If we walk long enough, we will finally know what it is to know that there is nothing to know.  When we arrive in this place which seems so forsaken by the Holy One, we will not find much comfort in the platitudes which have sustained us through a life time of things which we thought spoke of the worst that could come.    

A lot of people live by such things as "God is good, all the time" and He is.  Others might say something about hanging onto the knot at the end of the rope.  And, of course, we do, at least as long as we can.  And then there is that one about "all things working for good"  which when delivered some times feels like being spat on.  The last resort in the platitude book always seems to be "you just got to have faith,"  which makes the one in darkness feel as if life has been lived without it.    When we walk in real darkness and struggle on the road of the very hard times, religious platitudes do not measure up.  They have no strengthening power.  They are empty.  But, then none of this is a surprise to those whose lives seemed to have disappeared in the suffering.  

When we walk far enough and struggle to stand with all our strength, we will come to understand that platitudes can never take the place of the bedrock.  The bedrock is trust.  Just trust in the One who brought us into being, Who has been sustaining us, and Who has a plan for whatever it is that is ahead.  Trust in God is the bedrock.  It is the kind of trust to which we cling whether the times are good or bad.  The darkness may deepen, but our hold on the One we trust is made more secure because of His hand holding tightly to ours.  Trust.  Bedrock. It is all we have.

The Unimaginable

There are unimaginable things which are suddenly dropped heavily on us.  Many who lost loved ones to covid a few years ago during the height of the pandemic went through a process of loss and grief filled with a separation which was heart breaking beyond measure.  Of course, any unexpected loss of a loved one is for most of us unimaginable even though we look around and see it happening every day.  Life is a wonderful thing and we fight to our last breath to hold on to it, but it is also messy, unpredictable, and very fragile.   

Our head tells us our bodies are made with an expiration date, but it is mostly a reality which we ignore until ignoring it is no longer an option.  What is true is that the Creator who held us at the first instant of our life in the womb of conception never really turns us lose  We may seek throughout the course of our life to loosen His hold on us, but it is something we never are able to fully accomplish.  It is hard for us to comprehend how fully we are His, how He loves us sometimes despite us, and how His plan for us takes us far beyond the transitory nature of this life into an eternity even now being readied.  

Even as unimaginable things come to us in this life, so are there unimaginable things out there ahead of us in the life to come.  When we remember the words of Jesus to the dying thief on the cross, we seem to get more caught up in figuring out what Jesus meant by "Paradise" than looking at the obvious which is expressed in those words, "Today you will be with me..."  (Luke 23:43)  Being with Jesus in an eternal life is unimaginable for many of us, but it is as certain a gift as death for anyone who like that dying thief on an unimaginable cross is ready to receive it.  

And Can It Be

There was a time when not being in worship on Sunday morning was an unthinkable thing.  When I was growing up, it was mandated.  "If you put your feet under this table, you will do what you are told," is what I was often told and always I was told when Sunday came I would be going to church with the rest of the family.  And, then much later I ended up as one who was preaching and leading worship so no one had to tell me what I had to do on Sunday morning.  What was sometimes done unwillingly became my own choice through most of my life.    

Retirement put me into a different set of circumstances.  Or, maybe it was getting older and not being able to count on being able to do what I had always taken for granted.  Whatever the reason these days have been days of attending and not attending worship every Sunday.  I have discovered that sometimes what we might choose to do is not really being chosen for us.  If such makes little sense, continue to hang in there for life to unfold new possibilities.   

So, on a day when worship in the church was not an option, I pulled out my United Methodist Hymnal and started turning pages.  As I turned the pages, I saw some hymns I never thought I would have forgotten, but such was the case with some.  And I even found myself silently singing a few that have always stirred the deep places of my spirit.  One of those hymns was a Charles Wesley hymn entitled, "And Can it Be."  It is a glorious hymn.  It is a teaching hymn.  It is a hymn that tells the story told in the gospel in a powerful and compelling way.  It is a hymn of great victory as it ends with those words, "Bold I approach th' eternal throne and claim the crown, through Christ my own."  Would that I could be with a great crowd of believers to sing this hymn today!

No Certainties

Each day is not filled with planed certainties, but unexpected possibilities.  While there is nothing wrong with making plans, being married to them is a frustrating reality.  If there is any doubt, take a moment and ask the guy Jesus talked about in what is called the parable of the wise fool.  It seems that he was a very successful farmer who was so taken in by his harvest that he started boasting to himself about the need for bigger barns. His advice to himself was, "...I will say to my soul, 'Soul, you have ample goods laid up for many years: relax, eat, drink, be merry"  (Luke 12:19)  His plans were changed suddenly for the day of his boasting also had within it the night of his death.      

The Apostle James wisely said to those kindred spirits of the wise fool who were planning their future and their fortune,"Yet, you do not even know what tomorrow will bring."  (James 4:14)  The Word reminds us again and again that life is fragile.  It is not made of certainties.  There are no guarantees.  The best thing we can do is to get up each day and be grateful our feet are good for walking and our body is ready for the day filled with whatever it is that is ahead.  

Walking toward our plans is, of course, a good thing, but there should be no surprises in the detours and road blocks which might be in the way.  If we can come to a place of simply putting each day in the hands of the God who awakens us, we will surely find less frustration and more purpose.  Our plans and His purposes may not always be in sync, but when we come to the end of the day, it is His purposes being engaged which enables us to know that the day despite its difficult moments was not a waste.

In the Beginning

When I first came to this place,

When I first came to this time,

I heard God say deep within,

             "Pay Attention."

A Word clearly spoken, 

A Word clearly heard,

A Word immediately understood

            a Word from Him.

It was a voice without sound

A voice not heard with ears,

A voice from the silence,

           the Holy Voice.

Something never doubted,

Though not always heeded,

Always out there, speaking

          "Pay Attention."

          

Hidden Scars

We all wear our scars.  My pinkie finger has a mark that was made back in the day when families would go to drive in movies and the speaker would be pulled in and then out of the car window.  My leg did battle one afternoon with a lawn mower and then there is the forearm marking from some skin cancer surgery.  There are a few others worthy of honorable mention,but  a few make the point that we are all scarred people.  Life has a way of leaving its marks on us as we move through the years.   

And as surely as there are visible scars from past struggles so are there scars within which no one really sees unless we decide in a moment of vulnerability to share them.  Acts of betrayal can cause us to never trust again, church battles can make us suspect of anything and anyone that smacks of Christianity, and a spoken word meant to hurt still seems like an arrow that has pierced our heart.  Like the physical hurts that scar us, these inner wounds may heal over, but the pain may from them may come again and again like the joint pain some old timer says comes when the weather changes. It seems that they will simply never cease to limit our living keeping us from the joy that we long to know in our life.   

And, indeed, this is true if we depend only on our own attempts at healing.  There is a balm that heals even the worst scars of the heart.  When Christ went to the cross to die for the sins of those who were persecuting Him, the power of reconciliation, forgiveness, and love was poured out upon humanity in such measure that our scars from the past no longer have a hold on us.  To embrace this gift from the cross is to bring it into our life in such a way that our inner healing becomes possible and the destroying power of our scarred soul is broken.  For so many of us, it is a gift waiting to be received.  

Not Paying Attention

Today had within one of those anticipated waiting times in a dentist office so I picked up a small book by Esther de Waal entitled "Lost in Wonder."  It is one of those books which does not require a front to back reading, but is set forth in such a way that any chapter can be read independently of the rest.  And then, too, as I made my choice I knew it was a book I had already read a couple of times, maybe even more.  

This is not to say I had digested everything in its pages which is why it required multiple reads.   But, as is often the case a repeated read can bring unexpected surprises.  It was the sub title of the book which really caught me by surprise this time:  "Rediscovering the Spiritual Art of Attentiveness."  Just when it seems that some progress is being made in paying attention, something like this happens.  The slow learner than I am read the book several times and never noticed it was about the spiritual art of attentiveness.  I picked up some of this in the reading, but did not realize it was a major part of the reason for the book.   

This is not the first time life has surprised me in such a way.  I read too fast.  It is just something I do.  And, so I miss some things that I find the next time I race through the pages.  Of course, some things I never see because I am reading too much to get to the end instead of staying in the stream of what is being expressed.  It makes me wonder if this is symptomatic of the way I live.  

Walking Without Shoes

The things that are not yet seen belong to the hidden sphere of the creation.  The Apostle John wrote, "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God.  He was in the beginning with God."  (John 1:1)  Of the Eternal One it is written, "All things came into being through Him..." (John 1:3)  There has not been a time when Christ has not been present, but until Bethlehem, His presence was within the hidden invisible realm.  It was only when "the Word became flesh" (John !:14) that what was invisible through the ages became visible to those who were there to behold Him.  

Micah caught a glimpse of what was to be, but had not yet come when he saw in his spirit that Bethlehem would be the place of the birth of One not yet come, but coming.  (Micah 5:2)  Other prophets, too, beheld the wonder of seeing and knowing what was unknown and hidden.  Long centuries before the Christ was hung up to die on Calvary, the prophet Isaiah described it with such vivid accuracy that it would appear he was an eye witness. (Isaiah 53)  He, too, beheld the hidden mystery that was yet to be revealed through the life, death, and suffering of Jesus.  Perhaps, it was a partial glimpse of an ever present eternal and invisible reality, but it was far more than others would see.   

We, of course, live in a world bound by what is visible.  So bound are we in this world that we live with a creed that it is not only improbable, but impossible for the invisible to break through into our physical world.  It is impossible for the holy to break into our secular based world.  Our saying so, our lack of expectation, our inability to see does not change the ability of an all powerful God to reveal Himself and to sound His Word among us.  The invisible and hidden will be revealed again and again according to God's will and our willingness to see and hear.  Always we stand midst the holiness, but only those who see walk without shoes.

The Greatest Mystery

In a world brim full and overflowing with holy mystery, the greatest mystery is the one which transforms the human heart and enables the God given soul to once again come home.  Like other holy mysteries this one remained hidden for such a long time before being seen and, unfortunately, for many people it still remains something unseen and dismissed into the realm of something which does not really exist.  In the final words of Romans we hear the Apostle speaking, "Now to God who is able to strengthen you...according to the revelation of the mystery that was kept secret for long ages but is now disclosed..."And then in still another letter he wrote, "...the mystery that has been hidden throughout the ages and generations has now been revealed to His saints..."  (Colossians 1:26)    

What goes without saying is that the great mystery is the mystery made incarnate through Jesus Christ.  And while there is great mystery within our attempts to understand what God did through Christ, an even greater mystery is found within the question framed by "Why?"   Why would the Son of God come to this earth, be born in a place like Bethlehem, live in this world, and die on a hill filled with rejection, scorn, pain, and ridicule?  And if the gospel is true and there is no reason to think otherwise, He came out of His love for the likes of you and me.  

Why would He do such a thing?  Not a one of us can count ourselves worthy of such a sacrificial and unconditional love?   No, not a one. Therein, lies the greatest mystery of them all.  Why would Christ choose to die for me and you?  Certainly, the theologians and preachers point to love as the reason, but it still does not answer the question of why He would love us in such a self sacrificing way.  Why would He go to the cross for each one of us?  Of all the mysteries, surely this is the greatest.

Mystery's Journey

 I walk in Mystery,

    smell its fragrance,

      taste its sweetness

       feel is freshness

         see its hiddenness

           hear its silence,

Mystery all round me.

I walk into Mystery, 

   waiting on its unfolding,

      expecting the shimmering,

        sensing the revealing,

          knowing the presence,

            listening expectantly,

Mystery always before me.

I walk through Mystery,

    going, but not yet,

       clouds of glory,

         a river so very wide,

           saints on the other side,

             the Holy One waiting,

Mystery soon to overcome me.