The mass of the Rocky mountain range pulled the sun down toward the horizon on a late summer afternoon. Heavy drapes kept the sun's heat and light at bay. The room was dark and I don't know why my five-year-old bare feet weren't outside playing with the neighbor kids. Perhaps I was being punished-there are some things for which a lack of memory is a relief. Then I spied it. A single ray of light came through a tiny hole in the obscuring material. In the dark, the ray was invisible but for tiny dancing motes of dust. (My mother will be mortified should she learn that there was dust in her house.) I was fascinated. They hung in the air, suspended, motionless until some unseen force moved them. Without knowing it, I had rediscovered Brownian motion-many years too late to have it called "Parkersonian" motion. Years later I bought an old tank prism. From my Physics books I knew that light would split into its component colors when shone through a prism. It cost $3.50 from the Edmund Scientific Catalog. I took it into a dark room and shone a ray of sunlight through it. On the opposite wall a burst of color spread itself across the wall. I'd never seen such intense red, green, blue. Colors to dazzle the eye; colors to hurt the eye; colors to hypnotize. Still later, when my children were small, there was a total solar eclipse. We prepared by putting a pin hole in the bottom of a Quaker's oatmeal cardboard box-you know, the round ones. We planned to point the pinhole in the bottom of the carton toward the sun and place a piece of white paper near the open top end. This would project an image onto the paper through the pinhole. Playing with it, we noticed that looking at the pinhole, you could see nothing on the other side. Closer to the hole, a dim pinpoint of something could be seen. At eyelash distance, a whole new world opened up. One could see nearly as much as you could with a normal field of vision. Unfortunately, it was cloudy that day, so it got dark for an hour and then we had dawn again, but no sunlight and no image of a solar eclipse to hang in memory's halls. The church is like that. We live in a dark world, with the powers of the air at work all around us. The Church is the hole. Small, too small to see anything through. But a glimmer of light shows through from the Other Side. This narrow beam of Otherness shines in stark contrast to the darkness through which it passes. If the environment is clean, nothing shows. When a mote of "dust" comes into the light, the Light immediately reveals the mote for what it is. It shows the Brownian motion of the action of the prince of the power of the air. The light is white-a combination of all those who make it up, but the prism of examination reveals that the light is made up of individual gradations of color-the differences of each of us shine with the intensity of the original Son-light, but with different wave lengths and different attributes. Another prism, oriented opposite to the first, would recombine the variation back into the original white. So we, being many and diverse, are one in the pure whiteness of light that is Jesus, in His Body. The hole in the fabric of space/time, perhaps eaten on purpose by that Moth Who created all things and can makes holes wherever He wants-the hole is Us. Transparent, consisting of nothing at all but an opening to let the realm of non-space/time show through, we are a pin-hole view of that other non-place and non-time. The closer one approaches, the more of the other realm appears, until at eyelash range, a wonder of light and color and texture appears; the realm of true reality. May it be that we, the Church, will fulfill our ultimate purpose; to be a hole through which Light shines through and through which others can catch just a glimpse of That and Who lies beyond. 2008Pinhole View

The Power of forgiveness

Nelson Mandela’s funeral will begin in a few hours. Without a doubt, few individuals have touched so many lives for the better. The 20th Century had its Hitlers and Stalins each of which impacted the world around him in a transforming way. Many others have changed society for the better: Mother Theresa, Martin Luther King Jr. and Mahatma Ghandi, for example. But for actual change within society, none compares to Nelson Mandela. He stands head and shoulders above all others for accomplishing an impossible task. Others who have influenced their society or the world for the better made significant inroads into the selfishness and evil of this world. They inspired, they moved to tears and action. They made us think that, perhaps, we could live in a better world. He joins their ranks, but supersedes them. Madiba forgave. This is his legacy; this is the inheritance he passes down to every South African and to all the world. Forgiveness. He lived the word. Yes, he was a pragmatist, using whatever means to accomplish his goals. He embraced violence, for example for a time. Imprisonment burned all the hatred from him and made him realize the power of forgiveness. Mark Twain says, “forgiveness is the scent of a violet shed on the heal that has crushed it.” Mandela exuded that scent and won over his persecutors and jailers. I do not know that he was explicitly Christian, but he lived the Christ life in a way that few others have. And the world stands up and takes note. This one lone South African political prisoner exhibits, no, he lived-forgiveness. “Father, forgive them…” Jesus cried out as they drove cruel spikes through his wrists. Between the Christ and Nelson Mandela, great forgivers are rare. By some wondrous miracle is it possible for us to seize this moment, this window into the other World and hang on to it? If so, how? How would we be different? Would radical Islam give up its vendettas? Would Israel make peace with Palestinians? Would china release it prisoners? Would we release ours? Could we find it in our corporation hearts to treat those who make and sell for us as human beings and not just cogs in a an endlessly-turning gear? Can we, the exploited of the world, find it in our hearts to forgive our exploiters? Can we, individuals all, find that place within ourselves to forgive the cheating spouse, the wounding bitter tongue, the thief of our retirement funds? These are big shoes into which to fit our very small feet. Let’s not shrink the shoes this time; let’s grow into and walk in them. 12/9/13

Resting Work

eWhy we need to sleep is a question puzzling medical science. They see no absolute need of it, physiologically. Could it be that sleep is imposed on us to limit our time to develop evil or could it be to teach us a lesson? Genesis 1 says that evening and morning were the first, second day Etc. day. Why evening first? Why rest before work? Maybe this is just the lesson He wants us to learn. Though physically we cannot save up rest, He is asking us to not work before we work. In spiritual terms, we can either rest from our work or rest for our work. The first, resting from work, means we have accomplished something and are resting from it. Physically, this makes sense. We work hard and are tired, so we rest. Spiritually, just the opposite is true. God wants us to rest first, recognizing that it is not us that does the preparation for the work, but Him. The ability to work comes from Him. Just so, the sequence of salvation is: rest first, work second. Believe and obey, is the sequence. First come and know me, rest from your burden of sin and self-works, then go work for me in the power of that rest. Rest on the accomplished work of Jesus, then go forth in the power of the Spirit to carry out His mission through us. As Boehnhoffer says, “No one can truly believe who does not obey; no one can truly obey who does not believe.” The two are inextricably intertwined, but belief must precede works or works are just that, works. Belief turns work into a joyous response to the love He has shown us in Christ Jesus. Belief makes works into a response to salvation rather than a means to salvation. Belief does not excuse from obeying or this would be cheap grace, but belief does take the drudgery of earning or working my own salvation. So, in our daily cycle of days, rest precedes work, night before day, so we can see this spiritual truth. Spiritual rest precedes spiritual work; accepting Jesus as our savior precedes our ability to work for Him. For by grace you have been saved through faith; and that not of yourselves, it is the gift of God; not as a result of works, so that no one may boast. For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand so that we would walk in them. Ephesians 2:8-10 12/12/11

In Praise of Maggots

Note: Please do not read this just before or after a good meal. Maggots are the larval stage of a certain fly. They, like the adult stage, feed on formerly living material. When I was 16, I left my San Diego home on a quest. I didn't know what I was looking for exactly or why I was going; I only knew I had to leave and go. My going had none of the romance and adventure of many of my generation-fleeing to odd corners of the world to experience life and find oneself. I made a very safe journey from an Adventist hospital environment to an Adventist boarding school just south of Forest Grove here in Oregon. I'm not quite sure, either, why I chose Laurel wood academy (since defunct, though I don't think my attending had anything to do with that.) In this school, everyone had to work four hours per weekday no matter whether you were rich or poor. I was poor so there was no question. Because I came as a junior, all the good, clean jobs were taken. The only job available was working on the farm. We had a working dairy, wheat fields, vegetable gardens, orchards (you've never lived until you've eaten an apple sugared with dew just as the sun peaks over a fir-crested hill.). My first task, in the heat of late August 1961 was to clean out the feed lot around where the cows ate. To put this in perspective, I was a city boy. My mother grew up on a farm, but her farm stories were cleaned and deodorized; not a scent of chicken or cow or horse manure in a single one of her stories. We held our noses on the road to a park which led by a pig sty. In short, I was a city slicker; the object of derision among the kids who grew up on farms. Being the oldest and having a driver's license, I was expected to drive the tractor which pulled the honey wagon (for "honey" read "manure"). It worked great when I drove forward. When in reverse, my complete incompetence glared like a searchlight on a moonless night. Humiliation was my daily fodder; Jeers and jests my greeting every morning. These experienced fourteen-year-olds knew far more than the protected city slicker in other areas as well: They knew how to swear, to smoke and the facts of life. I felt a complete idiot in those things that these "youngsters" knew so much about. Oh, and one more thing-they knew how to cuss. But among all the things that this outsider had the most trouble adjusting to, the very worst, the one that nearly broke me, that which caused the most torment and misery was not smell or task or incompetence or ignorance but flies. I hated these things that fed on offal and then landed on me and infected me (so I felt) with all the bacteria of a cow's bowel. Coming from a medical home and environment where cleanliness leaning toward antisepticism, I could barely face my day. It seemed like I breathed them, ate them and dreamed them. The Egyptians had nothing on me; I would've cried out for a Moses if I'd have thought of it. I still don't like them. But a new respect has dawned. First a brief biology lesson: A female fly lays her fertilized eggs which hatch into a larval stage (maggots) which eat pretty much what the parent flies do-garbage and dead things. From the larval stage they develop into mature flies and then repeat the cycle. Flies are bad enough, but a maggot lives in, on and upon dead and decaying material. It gores itself on dead flesh, feces and anything else that has stopped living. It is associated with death itself. We abhor the wriggling, slimy white things. A wound infected with maggots turns the stomach and threatens to lose its contents and provide more maggot food. Food infested with maggots in inedible; the very thought destroys the appetite of any but the near-starving. So, a couple of years ago, I was horrified when I learned that hospitals and medical personnel were using maggots to treat bed sores. I am familiar with bed sores. Having worked in a nursing home and in medical social work, it was a part of everyday life. These sores begin when a person lies too long in one position, causing the tissue to be deprived of blood for a long enough period of time for the tissue to die. The medical term, if I remember correctly, is decubitus. It is very difficult to treat, especially in older people. Now these practitioners are purposely placing maggots in a decubitus. I was astounded. Then the truth struck. Maggots eat only dead flesh. Living flesh has no appeal. A surgeon who tried to debride a decubitus would inevitably further damage the living healthy tissue which was attempting to repair the wound. Water treatments are expensive and time consuming. Sterile maggots do not infect the wound; they clean out the dead tissue and make way for the living tissue beneath to thrive. That which I abhorred is the means for health and life and healing. I don't exactly know what the morality lesson is here. Perhaps it is only a question: What are the maggots in my life; what are those things which debride my spirit, my soul? What are those things which seem to me to be ugly and repulsive but which lead to the life and health of soul and spirit? I wonder. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Maggot 6 12 09 Note: Please do not read this just before or after a good meal. Maggots are the larval stage of a certain fly. They, like the adult stage, feed on formerly living material. When I was 16, I left my San Diego home on a quest. I didn't know what I was looking for exactly or why I was going; I only knew I had to leave and go. My going had none of the romance and adventure of many of my generation-fleeing to odd corners of the world to experience life and find oneself. I made a very safe journey from an Adventist hospital environment to an Adventist boarding school just south of Forest Grove here in Oregon. I'm not quite sure, either, why I chose Laurel wood academy (since defunct, though I don't think my attending had anything to do with that.) In this school, everyone had to work four hours per weekday no matter whether you were rich or poor. I was poor so there was no question. Because I came as a junior, all the good, clean jobs were taken. The only job available was working on the farm. We had a working dairy, wheat fields, vegetable gardens, orchards (you've never lived until you've eaten an apple sugared with dew just as the sun peaks over a fir-crested hill.). My first task, in the heat of late August 1961 was to clean out the feed lot around where the cows ate. To put this in perspective, I was a city boy. My mother grew up on a farm, but her farm stories were cleaned and deodorized; not a scent of chicken or cow or horse manure in a single one of her stories. We held our noses on the road to a park which led by a pig sty. In short, I was a city slicker; the object of derision among the kids who grew up on farms. Being the oldest and having a driver's license, I was expected to drive the tractor which pulled the honey wagon (for "honey" read "manure"). It worked great when I drove forward. When in reverse, my complete incompetence glared like a searchlight on a moonless night. Humiliation was my daily fodder; Jeers and jests my greeting every morning. These experienced fourteen-year-olds knew far more than the protected city slicker in other areas as well: They knew how to swear, to smoke and the facts of life. I felt a complete idiot in those things that these "youngsters" knew so much about. Oh, and one more thing-they knew how to cuss. But among all the things that this outsider had the most trouble adjusting to, the very worst, the one that nearly broke me, that which caused the most torment and misery was not smell or task or incompetence or ignorance but flies. I hated these things that fed on offal and then landed on me and infected me (so I felt) with all the bacteria of a cow's bowel. Coming from a medical home and environment where cleanliness leaning toward antisepticism, I could barely face my day. It seemed like I breathed them, ate them and dreamed them. The Egyptians had nothing on me; I would've cried out for a Moses if I'd have thought of it. I still don't like them. But a new respect has dawned. First a brief biology lesson: A female fly lays her fertilized eggs which hatch into a larval stage (maggots) which eat pretty much what the parent flies do-garbage and dead things. From the larval stage they develop into mature flies and then repeat the cycle. Flies are bad enough, but a maggot lives in, on and upon dead and decaying material. It gores itself on dead flesh, feces and anything else that has stopped living. It is associated with death itself. We abhor the wriggling, slimy white things. A wound infected with maggots turns the stomach and threatens to lose its contents and provide more maggot food. Food infested with maggots in inedible; the very thought destroys the appetite of any but the near-starving. So, a couple of years ago, I was horrified when I learned that hospitals and medical personnel were using maggots to treat bed sores. I am familiar with bed sores. Having worked in a nursing home and in medical social work, it was a part of everyday life. These sores begin when a person lies too long in one position, causing the tissue to be deprived of blood for a long enough period of time for the tissue to die. The medical term, if I remember correctly, is decubitus. It is very difficult to treat, especially in older people. Now these practitioners are purposely placing maggots in a decubitus. I was astounded. Then the truth struck. Maggots eat only dead flesh. Living flesh has no appeal. A surgeon who tried to debride a decubitus would inevitably further damage the living healthy tissue which was attempting to repair the wound. Water treatments are expensive and time consuming. Sterile maggots do not infect the wound; they clean out the dead tissue and make way for the living tissue beneath to thrive. That which I abhorred is the means for health and life and healing. I don't exactly know what the morality lesson is here. Perhaps it is only a question: What are the maggots in my life; what are those things which debride my spirit, my soul? What are those things which seem to me to be ugly and repulsive but which lead to the life and health of soul and spirit? I wonder. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Maggot 6 12 09

Grandpa Lessons 2

We sat side-by-side, sharing a piano bench eating lunch. My three-and-three-quarters-year-old grandson sat on my right, shoveling food into his mouth and chattering nonstop between bites. Without preamble, he slipped his left hand into the crook of my left elbow and left it there for over a minute; a connection of love and recognition that warmed my heart down to its very cockles. He withdrew it, again without explanation. For him, the event will be lost in the myriad of events flooding his expanding brain; a blip on the radar of his world. But for grandpa, what an electrifying moment; what a joy: to be loved without reserve, to be acknowledged in his world. Daddy is like that too, longing for the spontaneous, loving touch of spirit to Spirit; of linking arm in arm in a spontaneous, loving touch. 7/13

Grandpa Lesson 1

“No, that’s mine!” cried the angry voice of my grandson. Parental intervention resolved the earth-shaking battle over the blue Hot Wheels Corvette. Is it possible that the process of differentiation which begins at conception, the journey of separating into an individual has, as one of its necessary steps, the distinguishing of my and mine from that which is yours? Do we need a stage during which we recognize what is ours in order to grow into a mature adult who can be willing to part with, to give away, something of that which is ours? Is it possible that, giving of things is merely a precursor stage to the giving of ourselves to another, to others? Is it possible that the greed and selfishness which I all too often exhibit is a regression or, worse, being stuck in the toddler stage of beginning differentiation? Are all of our thefts, our broken marriages, our corporate greed, our congressional stubbornnesses, our land- and resource-grabbing wars; are all of these a child’s scream of “Mine?” If so, by what means, what magic, what societal growth hormone can we grow into a mature world in which we recognize mine and yours. How can we, ultimately, discover that giving is, indeed, the greatest joy? What would a world be like should we someday discover this most elemental secret of the universe? Can we dream of it even though it seems such a distant, unreachable goal?

god's Unfairness 3

Grace is the unfairness of God. We often think how unfair it is that something happens (blindness, illness, missing a bus, etc.). The unfairness of life in singling us out for something that, through no fault of our own, happens to us. Big or small, it happens and we didn’t do anything to make it happen. There is no cause and effect, we did nothing to cause it or precipitate it(just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time or have the wrong set of genes. So, how about the unfairness of God. He gives us something we didn’t deserve (salvation, life, freedom, peace with Him and our fellow man). Others in the universe might object, saying we didn’t deserve this. But He protests, declaring His love for us as His excuse to be unfair, biased, prejudiced in our favor, spoiling us unreservedly with gifts we didn’t even ask for, showering us with every blessing in heavenly realms He gives us holiness and blamelessness, sonship, reveals the mystery of His will (to make all things unified under His Son), gives us His Holy Spirit, who guarantees our inheritance, and makes us, His church, the fulfillment of all things for Him. Yes, He’s unfair, but grace is unfair because it happens to us even though we don’t deserve it. It comes freely in the One He loves. He lavishes it upon us, along with all wisdom and understanding. It brings life, delivering us from death. Unfair, yes, but our only hope Grace and peace to you from God, the Father and from the Lord Jesus Christ. Ephesians 1:2 02/5/01 Grace is the unfairness of God. We often think how unfair it is that something happens (blindness, illness, missing a bus, etc.). The unfairness of life in singling us out for something that, through no fault of our own, happens to us. Big or small, it happens and we didn’t do anything to make it happen. There is no cause and effect, we did nothing to cause it or precipitate it(just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time or have the wrong set of genes. So, how about the unfairness of God. He gives us something we didn’t deserve (salvation, life, freedom, peace with Him and our fellow man). Others in the universe might object, saying we didn’t deserve this. But He protests, declaring His love for us as His excuse to be unfair, biased, prejudiced in our favor, spoiling us unreservedly with gifts we didn’t even ask for, showering us with every blessing in heavenly realms He gives us holiness and blamelessness, sonship, reveals the mystery of His will (to make all things unified under His Son), gives us His Holy Spirit, who guarantees our inheritance, and makes us, His church, the fulfillment of all things for Him. Yes, He’s unfair, but grace is unfair because it happens to us even though we don’t deserve it. It comes freely in the One He loves. He lavishes it upon us, along with all wisdom and understanding. It brings life, delivering us from death. Unfair, yes, but our only hope Grace and peace to you from God, the Father and from the Lord Jesus Christ. Ephesians 1:2 02/5/01

God's Unfairness 2

There is no question about it. God is unfair. He doesn’t treat everyone equally; He doesn’t treat everyone as they deserve. We are so very fortunate that He doesn’t. If He treated us equally, those with special gifts might have special advantage in the salvation process. Instead, He appeals to each of us individually, according to our needs, aptitudes, inclinations. He woos us, wins us, warns us, wants us each individually for what and who we are. He doesn’t treat us as we deserve, either. If He did, we’d all be dead. But He gives us life, both temporal and spiritual. He gives us life with which to find Him. He gives us temporal life in or der to find spiritual life in Christ. We certainly don’t deserve this. We are born into a family of rebels. We practice rebellion. And the wages of rebellion is death-what we earn, what we deserve. Instead of treating us equally and fairly, He puts the bad stuff on His own Son and gives us only the good stuff. Certainly not fair in anyone’s book. How unfair to wound and crush, and pierce Him who had no sin in order that we who deserved all that punishment, all that consequence might have life everlasting. Unfair, totally unfair. There is no justice in it only total, unmitigated bias---bias and prejudice in our favor. 7/26/01

God's Unfairness 1

Father, I am puzzled. Many are the times in which You or others speaking on Your behalf, extoll Your justice. You seem to delight in claiming to be just. Along with love and mercy, it is right up there at the top of attributes Your followers claim about You. Just so we’re on the same page, my definition of justice includes legal justice: making a right decision in a courtroom; business justice in which contracts are honored, proper weights used and fair prices charge and mostly, being fair. Fairness in my book is being treated equally well. When I look around, I do not see Your fairness. I see some of Your children with billions of dollars, others without two nickels to rub together. Some are super-geniuses and some cannot spell their own name. Some play their musical instrument or sing in Carnegie Hall or rise to the top 40 charts repeatedly; others can’t carry a tune. A few are Michael Jordans and some, like me, can’t throw a basketball straight. Some dance, perform on a high wire or perform graceful feats of acrobatics and gymnastics, others, like me, are total klutzes. Some live in safe gated communities with security patrols on top of public safety; others live in war-torn countries or ghettos where gunfire no longer startles. Some live in verdant gardens; others in arid deserts. Some live in high-rise penthouses while their fellow humans live in the streets, under bridges or in their cars. Some eat caviar; others the offscourings of their luxurious meals. Some of us are beautiful; others seeming polar opposite. Some live long, productive lives; some die in their teens, before they enter school or are aborted or sacrificed as an unused fertilized ova in a bid to cure infertility. Some steal billions and go scott-free; others steal a loaf of bread and are shot in the attempt. Some live in lands of peace; others are murdered because of skin color, the wrong tribal name or because they wear glasses and are therefore considered to be intellectuals and non-productive members of society. Some are free; others enslaved-often by the free. Some live Christian lives, some live in heathen, godless lands, some in starkly religious lands without love or mercy, some live as atheists. Which brings me to my biggest point of all. How fair is it that You kill or, worse, throw into a burning pit forever, those who do not accept You? How fair, how just is that? In particular, I question Your justice when You annihilate or roast forever people who had little or no chance to know You. How can I, born into a privileged society, with training in Your scriptures, having You intervene in my life to point me to salvation when people I know, with none of these advantages, will die or burn forever? This is not a straw-man question. If You are like this, in truth, then You are more like Adolph Hitler than Mother Theresa and I can’t see spending eternity with you joyfully. Maybe I don’t want to be there at all. I suppose this means I love my family more than I do You, but it also means You love my family less than I do. You must have some other way, some better plan to make all things just, to make equity reign. You must know something that we haven’t discovered or that we have forgotten or ignored. I cannot believe that a God Who created all things good and perfect, Who claims Justice as a naming attribute would not have a plan for righting the wrongs of this life and find a way to make the future a beautiful one for all of us, not just the favored few. Now I hear You say, “You’re right. This blink-of-an-eye time you call life is not fair. You, the privileged, have more than others in many ways. They have less. But in the end, the very end when it really matters, My judgments will be fair, my decisions equitable and just. You will both agree and be satisfied. I make all things new and in that re-creation, all is in balance; all is in harmony; all comes out right” And I reply, “You are truly Just and righteous O Lord. Be it done to us even as You will, for we shall be content. Be Thou our contentment in the here and now.” 12/9/13

First and Last

Do not be afraid! I AM the First and the Last! Revelation 1:8 Of Him, through Him, to Him are all things! to Him be the glory forever, Amen Romans 11:36 I've been afraid of Revelation for 10 years. It used to be one of my favorite books. By studying it, I knew all there was to know about the End of the World. I could pinpoint with unerring accuracy, the precise sequence of events that followed one after another once the ball got to rolling. Then my nice applecart got overturned and I've had no idea at all what the end time would look like. But that's not my point in writing this. I decided to read Revelation again, but this time, not for the purpose of knowing what Revelation was saying about world events, but about Him who is being revealed in its sometimes-strange text. So, I was reading Revelation 1. "don't be afraid! I and the first and the last (Alpha and Omega). How could Jesus being the First and the Last have anything to do with fearlessness? If we were to hear His voice, perhaps he would say something like this: I AM the First: I was there when that one sperm and only that one, was accepted into the ova that is now your other half. It was I who selected the timing, the precise maturation of that ova, the specific sperm which was accepted. I chose the DNA which was in each; the 24 chromosomes of your mother and 24 of your father (I hope I remember my high school biology-correct me on the number if I'm wrong.). I chose your parents' parents and theirs before them and theirs before them. You are the accumulation of my plan; the outworking of a long blue print that was intended from all eternity in My love for you. You are perfect just the way you are-all your quirks and foibles, all your wonderful ways of interacting-these are but expressions of my intention to weave you into my tapestry. As I said about the blind man-"neither his parents nor he have sinned that He is blind-it is so My glorious plan may be revealed in him-" and so are you. Don't be afraid! I am the End. As I was your Beginning, so I am your End. That last breath of yours will be held within my breath. Your last heartbeat will be in synch with Mine. I will hold that which is you in Myself. I know I've not been very clear exactly what happens after that last breath, that last pulse, but I will assure you: I AM your End. In Me, you can rest assured that you will live-for I am alive! I am alive now and forevermore, even though I too drew a last breath and my heart stopped. As I was in My Father, so you will (and are) be in Me. In fact, just as I said through Paul, “Of Me, through Me, to Me are all things. I am not only there at your beginning and end, I am there in everything in between. I AM! Don't be afraid! I truly exist; I am Real. You are in Me and I in you and both of us in the Father all bound up with My Spirit. Nothing, not any thing; not any body; not any germ or physical illness, deformity; not any aberrance of personality or thought can be greater than I. You were created in the image of My plan for you-an exact representation of My desire for you. Your life is and always will be, to the glory of My Father. Lay back in the hammock of your life and think about that. Have a glass of lemonade as you toast in the sun and think about that. Let it in; let it sink deep into that place where you are who you truly are. Let the fear be sweated out of you in the realization of this reality; this reality that is Me. I AM YOUR First and YOUR Last and all YOUR in-betweens. Ah, Lord Jesus, Holy Father and Blessed Spirit-How truly wondrous You are! We lay our fears at Your feet in confidence that You are our First and Last-so may it always be. 5 22 09

Death Journey

Facing our own mortality, we are like a child, traveling alone for the first time, fearful of the unknown even though she is going home to Mother.

We Are All One

The liar and the lied-to; The embezzler and the embezzellee; The hater and the hated; The contemptuous and the contempted; The adulterer, spouse and adulteree; The angered one and his object; The abortionist, the aborter and the aborted; The thief and his victim; The conner and the conned; The abuser and the abused: We all are one.. What I do, what you do, what we all do to one another in anger,hatred, greed, lust and depravity we do from our own brokenness. We are all wounded birds, shot through with our frail genetics and pierced by our circumstances. What we do comes from what we are; what we are is shaped from all that has gone before in and to and out of us. We are molded in the image of our ancestors and chiseled by our life into something or someone we often do not like or love. There is a brokenness in which we all share, a brokenness of genetics and a brokenness of family, of circumstance and of action. We are all perpetrators of horrendous deeds against others fruiting out of this brokenness: an evil fruit of an evil tree. We are selfish, cruel and heartless. Ego rules.Greed runs roughshod through our streets, trampling underfoot all who are in the way. It is only in degree and opportunity that we differ. Is it possible to be healed of that which has broken us, maimed and distorted us? Can I find some power enabling me to walk in your shoes; to look through your eyes; to treat you even better than I treat myself? What magic, what learning, what power would invade me that in you I see myself; joy in your comfort; your pleasure; your gain? Oh Great Healer, Genetic Engineer, Worker in the warp and woof of circumstance, Tinker and mender of hings broken, Carver of distorted objects; You who took on serpent to heal, who took our wounds, absorbed our pain, blotted up all that we are and have done into Yourself: we turn to You in gratitude and praise, knowing we cannot heal ourselves and that the only healing that is, is from and through You. 3/18/12

Board Meeting

“this is the tenth ballot. If we cannot reach a decision on this one, we will have to adjourn and bring it up next board meeting. It’s after 1 AM already.” The board chairman sounded as weary as he looked. He handed the pieces of paper down each side of the table. Each took one and almost immediately wrote on it, folded it and passed it back up the chain. The chairman opened each, read the results and marked a tally sheet. “Split again, five to five.” He sighed. “I know this decision is critical to our congregation,” he said. “Keeping or dismissing a pastor is not a light issue. It will effect us for years to come. Some of us have known Bob for many years and have learned to love and trust him. Some of you are new to the board and a few even to our congregation.” He paused. “That is exactly the point,” said one of the younger members. “If we don’t have a change in leadership we’re going to lose the younger crowd. We need a young pastor to lead us.” The arguing started over again, divided along age, music and worship style. The chairman broke into the heat of the discussion. “May I have a motion to adjourn?” he said. “So moved,.” “Seconded.” “All in favor.” Though not unanimous, the vote carried. Frustrated and weary, the board members left the room. It was night outside and inside. A week later, as the board members filed in, they saw Bob sitting at the foot of the table. “As you see, I’ve invited Bob here to the meeting. I’ve asked him to give a brief worship before we begin our discussion tonight. He will leave after that and so will not break the board rule against his presence when discussing his employment. Bob, the time is yours.” Though all had heard him speak many times from the pulpit, none remembered a more gracious presentation. He did not talk of his employment, music or worship style. His last words were, “If you elect to have me stay, I do so gladly; if you ask me to leave, I do so gladly. In both cases, you are expressing the will of God in my life and I desire that above all things.” He prayed briefly and left. There was silence in the room. Finally the chairman said, “Let’s take a vote. Ballots were passed gathered and counted. “it is unanimous,” he said; “We’re keeping Bob.” Some have objected to the belief in Universal salvation on the grounds that it destroys free will. The argument is that, if God exerts His power or even exhibits His love in such measure that all are convinced against their will, then free will is violated. The fictional board meeting is my answer to this. Should all be convinced that something is right doesn’t mean that their right to vote as they please has been violated. It means only that something has happened to change their mind. Their freedom of choice is still in operation; they are not being coerced. They merely choose to align themselves with a position which they previously opposed based on further information. When exposed to the naked love of God; when all their questions are answered; when all actions are seen for what they truly are; when all wrongs are righted; when we know as we are known, will we not freely and joyously surrender to Him who loves us beyond death? When we say, “love conquers all,” are we not saying that, exposed to infinite love, will we not joyously agree that we are wrong and He is right? Note: Though the board meeting is a fictional event, it is based in a real one. It was an even more momentous vote. The Conference President, who oversaw ministers and churches in the entire State of Oregon was in trouble with his pastors. None of us regular folk knew why, but the pastors influenced their parishioners who were the voting members to determine the president’s employment status. In this case, the vote went against the president. His wife, standing at his side, wept openly. His “acceptance” speech was the most gracious thing I have ever heard. He said, “You have expressed your will and we accept it as the will of god. Thank you for freeing us to move into the next work that He has for us.”

Want

You who effortlessly create without loss to Yourself-why is it that there is want and poverty, sickness and pain, poverty and want and starvation? It is like dying of starvation in a well-stocked kitchen or a fruitful garden. Why is it that you withhold that which you could so easily supply? What is it, You Giver of every good and perfect gift that you are giving us in our trouble and sorrow? What in loss and inequity and heart-wrenching visions of deep suffering is it that you want us to know, to experience, to share? For You only wound to heal. Teach me, teach us, to see You even in this dark time, when there seems no light at the end of the tunnel; when the foundations of what we thought we knew to be true are being shaken. Oh, let us see Your Hand at work. 1 31 09

The Decrease of the Kingdom

"He must increase, but I must decrease.” John 3:30 "Truly, truly, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.” John 12:24 Decrease, loss, failure, death; these are the things we are called to. And we are called to life and light and immortality. Like a scale, tilted down on one side, the other rises. Our decrease is His increase; our death is life to the Church. May we glory in the death of self and the Life which springs up in our place. May we embrace the instrument of our death as did the martyrs for the joy that is set before us. 1 26 09

Standing in an open door, I felt the wind push against me, heard its song as it strummed the bare deciduous branches and played the evergreen needles as tiny harps. It's an uncommon-weather day in the Northwest. We don't often have wind this far inland, at least not of this magnitude. I felt enveloped, immersed in the wind and weather. It surrounded me; I live in its grandeur and challenge. I cannot truly escape it; I can only shelter myself from it. Weather encloses the world and all of which it consists. I can only shield myself from it or luxuriate in its manifestation. Which I do will depend on my circumstance and disposition. I might hide inside of air conditioning on a hot day or put on sunscreen and sit on my patio. I might bundle up in layers of clothing, boots and hat or close the windows and turn up the heat on a snowy day. Just so we are enclosed and live within Him. We cannot truly escape Him; He is all-encompassing and all-invading. But I can resist or welcome; hide from or rejoice in His presence. All mankind faces weather and God from one of these two perspectives. May it soon be that all will rejoice in His presence; will bask in His undiminished, unfiltered, unprotected presence; that none will want to hide from His face. Weather 04.07.10

Is it possible that one of the basic purposes of the church, the Body is to be a recipient reservoir of the overflowing, wasteful grace of God? Are we a rain barrel of love; a storage for the drought around us? Are we a sponge, which squeezed, yield the blood pressed from His broken body to a thirsty world? Are we a fruit whose crushing yields the nourishment needed to a famished rebellious people? Rain BarrelI wonder. 1 31 09

“It makes sense to worship the sun and the stars because we are their children.” – Carl Sagan Carl Sagan’s pithy pronouncements summarized his beliefs, his philosophy, his ethos. We are “star stuff,” he was fond of saying. Who or whatever created us, that from which or whom we originated demands, deserves our adoration and worship—in that he is correct. We have but two choices: we originated from nothing or a conscious being did the deed. For me, the logic of something from nothing is a leap too far. Without the a priori of the creative person, we are left with no other choice than “we came from nothing.” But logic, intuition, probability and inspiration all point to a creative intelligence, a supreme being. I assert that there is Someone out there. I agree with Paul, “Of Him…are all things.” We are not “star stuff” but God stuff.” We are, in some way, made up of whatever God is. I’m not saying we are God, but that we derive from out of Him; we are of His essence. Or as Paul again says, “ One God and Father of us all, who is over all and through all and in all.” “This is my Father’s world; I rest me in the thought Of rock and trees Of skies and seas, His hand these wonders wroght” --Maltbie Davenport Babcock Children of...

We're Dead

The greatest news of our time, of any time, is that we are dead. It is not just “us”—those who believe in Christ Jesus, but everyone in the whole space and time we call the world. This wonderful news burst on me the other day and I want to share it with you-may you find it truly good news-the best news ever. First, let me define a few terms: Dead and death: Scripture speaks of death in a number of ways. We have the death which is the cessation of physical life. “He had a heart attack and died.” We put these people in the ground where they rot and return to their component elements. Another dead death is what Paul calls being “dead in our transgressions and sins.” Ephesians 2:1 As for you, you were dead in your transgressions and sins, It is the third of these deaths which is the good news. This death is a death to the death of transgressions and sins. We are dead to sins and Sin. I’m not going to define all that that means-it would take many too many words. But here it is: Ephesians 2:4, 5 Because of his great love for us, God, who is rich in mercy, made us alive with Christ even when we were dead in transgressions -- it is by grace you have been saved. We are made alive by the grace of God. One of the foundations of Christianity. But wait, it gets better! Not only are we (the body of Christ) dead but all mankind. “How can I say that? Well, it is not I who said it, but Paul: If For Christ's love compels us, because we are convinced that one died for all, and therefore all died. And he died for all, that those who live should no longer live for themselves but for him who died for them and was raised again. 2 Corinthians: 13-15 This death, the death that is in Jesus, is the death spoken of in what I call “the bloody Psalms.” These Psalms talk of death and destruction to the Lord’s enemies. In reality they speak of dying to that death into which we were born, the death of sin. When David cries out for the death of his enemies, when he talks of Yahweh wading in the blood of His enemies, he is looking forward to a time when sin itself will die and that part of us which is in harmony with that death will die. Revelation has some gruesome scenes as well and are also predictive of this time. John speaks of blood coming out of the wine-press of God’s wrath in such volumes that it will be “to the horse’s bridles.” This horrific image would make God the greatest of all terrorists if it were not symbolic. But in symbol, it becomes a beautiful representation of that process by which dying to self, we become alive to God and that life which cannot be taken from us. Death is never pleasant topic. But this death takes a new turn in the road in the salvation story. May we embrace this death an rejoice in it when It happens to us. Our God is a God who saves; from the Sovereign LORD comes escape from death. Surely God will crush the heads of his enemies, the hairy crowns of those who go on in their sins. The Lord says, "I will bring them from Bashan; I will bring them from the depths of the sea, that you may plunge your feet in the blood of your foes, while the tongues of your dogs have their share." Your procession has come into view, O God, the procession of my God and King into the sanctuary. In front are the singers, after them the musicians; with them are the maidens playing tambourines. “Praise God in the great congregation; praise the LORD in the assembly of Israel.” There is the little tribe of Benjamin, leading them, there the great throng of Judah's princes, and there the princes of Zebulun and of Naphtali. Summon your power, O God; show us your strength, O God, as you have done before. Because of your temple at Jerusalem kings will bring you gifts. Rebuke the beast among the reeds, the herd of bulls among the calves of the nations. Humbled, may it bring bars of silver. Scatter the nations who delight in war. Envoys will come from Egypt; Cush will submit herself to God. Sing to God, O kingdoms of the earth, sing praise to the Lord, Selah Psalm 68 20-33 Revelation 14:19 So the angel swung his sickle to the earth and gathered the clusters from the vine of the earth, and threw them into the great wine press of the wrath of God. 20 And the wine press was trodden outside the city, and blood came out from the wine press, up to the horses' bridles, for a distance of two hundred miles. knowing this, that our old self was crucified with Him, in order that our body of sin might be done away with, so that we would no longer be slaves to sin; for he who has died is freed from sin. Now if we have died with Christ, we believe that we shall also live with Him, knowing that Christ, having been raised from the dead, is never to die again; death no longer is master over Him. For the death that He died, He died to sin once for all; but the life that He lives, He lives to God. Even so consider yourselves to be dead to sin, but alive to God in Christ Jesus. Romans 6:6-11

A Woman-Shaped void

There is, in the heart of every man, a woman-shaped void. She who deigns to share our lives is she who fills that void, though never perfectly. Marriage is the process by which the void adjusts to accommodate she who shares our life and her accomodation to that which is within us. There is a Woman-shaped void in His life as well. But we, that Woman, the Church, adjust to fill the void in His heart. 7 12 08

Where is He?

In her book, The Hiding Place, Corie Tenboom describes the irritation of lice in the women’s quarters. The women slept on straw-covered boards, several dozen to a ‘layer.” There were several layers of beds. The lice made them itch, of course and they detested them. She managed to smuggle a New Testament scripture into the camp with her and, at night, before lights out, she read portions to the women around her. Tis brought great comfort to her and many others. One day she realized that she still had the scripture portion because of the lice. The guards, afraid of catching the lice, avoided going into the barracks to search for contraband. In the irritation of lice, her scriptures were preserved for her comfort. We all have lice in our lives; not the physical insects, usually, but something that is an irritation or perhaps even a larger issue: pain, loss, loneliness, tragedy. I chafe and gripe and mutter under my breath, though these never provide relief. I’m not even sure why I do them, except, perhaps, long-standing habit. But, occasionally, I remember something I learned some years ago when going through the dissolution of the home church to which I then belonged. It is this: Rather than asking “where is God?” ask, “where is God in this?” Perhaps it is too subtle a difference, but the real answer to the question "Where is He in this?" is not to know the answer, but to know that He is truly in this very circumstance whether I understand how or not. It is like Jesus' statement to Thomas: "blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed." When I can truly say, "He is in this," I don't need to know how He is in it; I need only know that one fact. Perhaps I shall never know how He is, but I can say with confidence, "You are in this" and "He is in this." Perhaps my favorite scripture is the final word on this: "Of Him, to Him, through Him, are all things." I find more and more that this one verse is the center of all scripture and His relationship to all that is. If we can come to any circumstance, whether it feels bad or good; whether it is comfortable or uncomfortable; painful or pleasing with the utter conviction that He is in it, then we can say, with Paul, "In all things give thanks," and "I am content." 3/18/10

Shadow's Shadow

A shadow has no shadow. Physics says that light is necessary to create a shadow—something to do with light blocked by a solid object. Shadow isn’t light and shadow isn’t solid. Jesus said, “I am the way and the truth and the life.” He also said, “worship in spirit and truth.” Behind the word “truth” lies the sense of reality. He might have said, “I am…the Reality….” Or “….shall worship in reality.” We humans think of this world as real; the world of spirits as being less so. We cannot touch, taste smell, measure that other world; that other reality which is beyond ours. Pilate asked, as he turned his back on Jesus, “What is truth?-what is reality?” Though we cannot touch, taste feel, measure even comprehend the world of spirit, the world of God who is Spirit, it is a reality beyond our limited three dimensions of height, depth and width. A being from that world, that reality, can step into and out of ours in a way which seems magical to us. It must be fun befuddling our senses to these beings to whom dimension is such an elementary thing; a grown up playing hide and seek with a three year old. In spite of the limitations of our senses and of our dimensions, there is something about our reality which reflects or maybe better for my purposes, a shadow of the reality beyond our comprehension. I would contend that a flower’s beauty says something about He Who spoke it into existence. All of nature speaks in hushed but eloquent words of her Creator. Human relationships are a magnitude\de higher in that elegant allegory of love which bespeaks His love for us. At whatever level, in whatever realm all speaks of Him. But, you object, “ What of evil?” “How can this speak of Him who is only good?” I answer, “It too speaks of Him, for are not all things of Him, through Him and to Him (Rom 11:36)?” “Explain yourself!” is your just demand. If our reality is a shadow of the real reality of that other realm, that true reality, is not evil a shadow of those good things that reflect Him? Is not all evil a parody, a mimicking of something good? Is not theft a shadowy shadow of the reward of work? Is not adultery, a faint negative of the good love that reflects His love? Evil is not the opposite of God. There is no opposite of Him. If there were an opposite, then it would be equal in some way. We would have a Zoroastrian conflict of a good and evil God contending for supremacy. As shadow is only an absence of light; Darkness cannot put out light; it is merely its absence. Evil is but a parody, a dim shadow of the shadows of good. Even it is to His glory, revealing a lack, an absence of that which is good; of He who is good. We cringe at evil, rail against it in others, fight it,. But it is an empty nothing and even that void reveals the outline of the bright light who is only Good. A shadow’s shadow; empty, powerless, defeated. Turning our eyes on Jesus, looking full in His wonderful face, the things of earth do grow strangely dim; the things of heaven do grow wondrous bright in the light of His glory and grace. Even in our most defeated evil acts, we reveal something about Him to ourselves, to others. The worst of all mankind, at some level in some way, makes His glory brighter, His love more evident. The mightiest railer against truth and Truth is singing a hymn of praise, unwillingly, unknowingly. Someday, some way, we will see all for what it truly is; we will know as we are known; see as we are seen and truly worship in spirit and in reality Him who is the real reality.

Sets

Mistakes may be the mother of wisdom, or at least, sometimes. Teaching third grade was one such mistake for me; one from which I repented with ashes, moans and tears for nine months (How come one school year is the same length as the human gestation period?). The wisdom, or knowledge, was sets. When it comes to math, I’m an ignoramus. I can add three numbers and come up with four answers. It took three tries to pass algebra. No rockets scientist am I. Those who hired me to teach third grade neglected to remind me of the fact that I would be teaching math. But here’s what came of all that: One day, fairly early on in the school year was titled, “sets.” Now I’ve heard of sets of china, dominoes, baseball cards and playing cards, but never of numbers. It was a brave new world for math teachers in 1971: the New Math was all the rage and predictions of higher math scores were jubilantly trumpeted from every educational platform. Sets was a part of New Math. Here’s what I finally figured out after straining every brain neuron available to me at the time: A set is a group of items which are related in some way. Voila! A set of china; a set of related numbers. Now a set can contain any number of items: five marbles; one hundred carrots; a million people; the population of the USA; the number of atoms in the solar system; the number of subatomic particles in the universe. Following this series, we could say there is a set of everything. Everything designated by me as “E,” contains all that is known, knowable and unknowable; all things physical, all things not physical; all thought, feeling, and reasoning; all interactions between beings and all relationships: Everything. So what’s the point. The point is that I wasn’t the first to think of Everything. St. John, St. Paul and others thought of these things long before. John says: “Without Him was nothing made that was made.” Paul says: “…all things were created by Him and for Him.” The author of Hebrews says: He “…sustains all things.” Even more comprehensive than the quotations above is Paul’s statement in Romans (11:36): Of Him, through Him, to Him are all things. To me, these few words contain, in seed, all that ever was, that ever will be and all that now is; a set of “E:: Everything. If E is out of, sustain through and returns to Him, if all that is, the set of E, created by and for Him, sustained by Him and returns to Him, where do we draw the line? We who call ourselves by His Name, agree that all good things come from Him. What about the loss of a job, bankruptcy, the death of a parent, espouse, a child? What about our own death? To push the envelope a little more: What about evil in general? What about evil in specific?: Iraq/Afghanistan, Cambodia, NAZI Germany, Stalin’s Russia,? How about individuals: Hitler, Jeffrey Dahmer? In other words, we who wish to know our God are faced with some pretty tough questions. Those who are his detractors say something like: If there is a god, he is either evil or impotent: if he cannot prevent evil, he is impotent; if he does not, then he is evil, since he could if he would. The Hindu religion worships Kali, the creator. Her other name is Destroyer. Around her neck is a necklace of human skulls. Do they have an insight into the Creator/Sustainer God whom we worship which we do not? Barbara Ehrenreich, an author whom I admire for her insight into social justice themes once wrote, after the tsunami which took 200000,000 live, “If there is a god, he has a lot for which to apologize to the human race.” If we turn to our own scriptures, in the first few chapters, we have the two trees: the tree of Life and the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. My thoughts, until recently, were that the latter tree was a test which Adam & Eve failed bringing woe into the world-a Pandora box opened against the wish of Creator/Sustainer. But what if the woe we experience as life, the bad and the good of it, were His plan all along? What if the cross is His magnificent apology to Ms. Ehrenreich and the rest of us? What if this Valley of Death is a required stage in His master plan to bring all things right? Could it be that the pearl of our complete beauty can only be created by the irritant and pain of this life and is best displayed against the black velvet of darkness and death? In the early days of World War II, planning began for the invasion which was later called D Day. Huge amounts of weapons, supplies and personnel were marshaled on the east coast of England in preparation. Planning took years. Finally the day, D Day, arrive: June 7, 1941. The invasion, ultimately successful, could not have happened earlier. Certain steps, much preparation, many false leads planted, other victories attained before the “end of the beginning,” as Churchill put it. What if, on a cosmic scale, evil is necessary; a required state of being, for the Ultimate Purpose of God to be carried out? What if the pain and suffering we endure is a painful surgery that will ultimately heal and finally bring into right and harmony and maturity that which Adam was not? To me, this puts He Whom I worship into a far grander role, a more wondrous, three-dimensional being than the cardboard god who is either evil for evil’s sake, weak or capricious. The Cross and He who died on it, stand out in stark relief, a sacred apology, a blood oath fulfilled, a complete cure for all that is and was and is yet to come. What about my own individual sins? Those things which so easily beset me? The things that drag me down and separate me from Him who is my joy? Could they too have a role in all of this? Think for a moment on these scriptures: For God has bound all men over to disobedience so that he may have mercy on them all. Romans 11:32 But if their transgression means riches for the world, and their loss means riches for the Gentiles, how much greater riches will their fullness bring! Romans 11:12 What then? What Israel sought so earnestly it did not obtain, but the elect did. The others were hardened, as it is written: "God gave them a spirit of stupor, eyes so that they could not see and ears so that they could not hear, to this very day."

Pearl's Pearls

His name is Pearl Fryer. An African-American of minimal education, little income and yet a great heart and artistic eye, he has made a name for himself in the horticulture and artistic world. His medium is living plants; his art, topiary. My first exposure to topiary was outside the “It’s a Small world” ride at Disneyland. It had just opened and around the outside ere a number of still-growing animal shapes. A skeleton of wire mesh in the desired shape was still visible, revealing the jarring juxtaposition of living and non-living materials which would eventuate in a pleasing and sometimes funny shape. I remember a giraffe and Mickey Mouse (of course) being among the shapes. Mr. Fryer’s topiary is of an entirely different nature. First, they are free hand-no supporting wire to guide future trimmers. Second, he starts with a plant but with a view to the future of what that plant will look like. His are not always shapes of real things; many, if not most, are abstract art. One tree is even a cube shape. He is completely self-taught. He was catapulted into this by the comments of potential neighbors raising the concern, that, being African-American, he would not care for his yard. Now, his Bishopville SC yard is a mecca for tourists from all over the world and is the only attraction for the small “don’t-on-the-map” town. He carves his shapes with a chain saw, standing atop tall ladders to reach the sometimes-forty-foot tops of his trees. “Standing” is probably a poor word to use. “Teetering” would be more apt. His first trees were outcasts from a local nursery. Unwanted trees and other plants were discarded behind the nursery. Pearl, as everyone calls him, received permission to scavenge from this pile of soon-to-be mulch. From these he created his incredible art. How much like our god he is: He finds us on the junk heap of this world; discarded and ready to be mulched into our component elements. He plants us in just the right place, nurtures us, bends our branches just so and then takes His heavenly chain saw to us, trimming here, shaping there. When finished, a glorious shape, unlike any other, emerges. Others take note and know that a heavenly Pearl has been at work in our lives. But He never stops trimming-we continue to grow and change and He never stops the process of shaping. Unlike the earthly Pearl, the Heavenly one knows us; knows the inmost of us and with this knowing creates just the shape He wants. Step outside yourself and see the glorious green shape into which the heavenly topiary artist has formed you. He has, he is, He will be successful with you and you will be an object of admiration and pleasure now and for all eternity.

Mr. Parker's Nose

One year after marrying my wife, we moved from San Diego to New York City. My parents lived in a tiny town 120 miles north of NYC in in Livingston. One morning, at breakfast, my wife asked my father, "Mr. Parker (she called him "Mr. Parker" until we had kids...now it is "Grandpa"). “were you in the Army?" My dad said, "No, when I had my physical, they put a circle on my chart around the heart, my shoulder and my nose." She said, "Mr. Parker, I didn't realize that they kept people out of the Army for having a big nos." My dad nearly choked to death on his orange juice from laughter. At that moment, she entered our family, not just as my wife, but as a true member. Her comment is still fodder for family jokes. Before marrying her, my parents and I existed in an equilateral triangle relationship. Between each of us there was a mutual bond of love and any two of us shared our love of the third. When Ida joined our family on that memorable day, a new triangle was born. She took my place at one of the corners and I moved to the center, between all three of them. Now our relationship included four, but not in a square, where one is isolated from the love of at least one member, but in the center. My parents and Ida all had equal access to one another and any three of us could share our love for the fourth. Perhaps this is an image of the Triune God before and after the birth of the Bride: Father Son and Spirit in an equilateral triangle relationship; each loving the other two and any two expressing their love for the third. At the birth of the Bride of Christ, He moved to the center, the Bride took His place and now, the fourth has equal access to all others and shares Their admiration for the Son who is in the middle-joined by lines of love to Father, Spirit and Bride and the Father, Spirit and Bride having lines of admiration between themselves as well. It is an as with any image of the Infinite, an imperfect representation. But it suddenly brought me to see the esteem in which the Infinite God holds us, His Church. 1/1/08

Taboo

Captain cook, in his log noted the indigenous people of Tonga used the word “taboo.” He defined it as “forbidden” or “sacred.” For example, certain foods were not to be eaten, certain practices not indulged in. The forbidden or sacred nature of a particular action was dictated by social norms but were based in not displeasing the gods. In some distant past, someone had determined that a particular action was forbidden by the gods, perhaps because it was particularly odious to the gods or because the gods wished to reserve it as a privilege they alone could enjoy. In either case, the taboo must be observed lest the gods intervene in the personal or corporate in a particularly nasty way. Through Moses, god listed a number of restrictions, including dietary, social and governmental. For example, the covenant people of God were not to eat pork, work on the Sabbath, touch a dead person or kill a person by hanging from a tree. ON the positive side, a taboo (meaning sacred) action might be to keep the Sabbath, bring an offering and wear certain clothes. IN either case, God set up certain actions which were forbidden and others which were required of all members of the Jewish community. These laws were the basis for a covenant relationship with Him. In covenant, He was their protector, their source of victory, their source of wealth and prosperity. Offending Him in these laws was a curse which were the obverse of His blessings: they would have famine, pestilence and drought; defeats in battle, poverty and humiliation among the nations when the laws were broken. Israel interpreted these laws much as the surrounding nations did: keep them and gain esteem in the eyes of God; break them and lose favor. In fact, Moses said, “He who keeps the laws will live by them,” and listed a set of blessings and cursings for the keeping or breaking of the laws. Christendom is fractured on the basis of laws. Each new denomination claims to have a more perfect understanding, a more rigorous method of keeping the laws of God. Some refer to Old Testament law, some to New when declaring their special status before God. Some keep the Jewish Sabbath, some keep Sunday, some keep none. In most cases, each group is trying to demonstrate how much better, how much more completely they are following the prescription determined to be correct by their interpretation of scripture. It’s a quagmire out there folks. How to determine what the “correct” church is becomes a search for an invisible needle in a giant haystack. One finally ends up inventing one’s own set of rules by which to please or avoided is pleasing God, creating one more fragment of the Body of Christ. Is the answer to come to some consensus or compromise in matters of doctrine? Is ecumenism the answer? Should we all form one huge hierarchical structure under which to worship? Definitely not! Jesus, then Paul and other New Testament writers pointed to a new way of relating to God. It was actually not new, but a lost, a forgotten way. Adam and Eve and Abraham all related to Him in a much different way. They saw Him as someone with whom to relate, to walk and talk with. They saw Him as real; Someone with whom to converse, to relate. Jesus called God “our Father.” Paul says, “without faith, it is impossible to please God.” The keeping or not keeping of a taboo or law, the profaning or honoring of a sacred ritual, rite, object, time or space has no effect on our relationship with god. He wants to walk and talk with us as did Adam, Eve and Abraham. His sole purpose for crating us is fellowship, not for rules. A marriage based on pleasing the partner by keeping a set of laws written on the walls of the home is no marriage. Marriage is relationship, not rules; God longs for, craves a people who will know Him as a person, one with whom He can talk face to face. Moses had it right: “Show me Your face.” And, centuries later, God showed His face and we spat in it, we rejected Him. But slowly, surely, He is winning our hearts, finding the right love song with which to woo us, the gift that convinces us of His love and total commitment to convincing us of Who He is and what His intentions are. Ah, Daddy! 08/10/13

Kids Logic

“When are we going to start getting smaller?” The four-year-old girl’s question baffled her mother. The thrust of acceleration toward the end of the runway was over, now, climbing skyward, the childish logic penetrated the dim-witted adult. Never having flown before, the child’s logic viewed herself, inside the plane from the ground view—an ever-shrinking object as both sound and image faded; a perfectly logical conclusion based on her limited collection of facts. Talking to one of my blind-from-birth friends about vision one day, I mentioned perspective. He’d not heard of it, so I attempted to explain. He was astounded that people and things appear smaller the farther way they are. He, in his late twenties, had never heard or thought about this. Again, an inconceivable concept even to an adult who had insufficient experience on which to base conclusions. Perhaps, coming to scripture, we too arrive at perfectly logical conclusions based on insufficient information. Or, perhaps, our conclusions are based less on insufficient knowledge as on preconceived ideas. Or, again, our life experience, our education, how significant others treated us results in logical but erroneous conclusions. Paul said, “When I was a child, I thought as a child…” We as adults, consider ourselves full-grown in the spiritual realm as well. Perhaps a recognition that we are seeing things as a child, with a child’s limited vision, a child’s clear logical train reaching strange conclusions will help us see our own and others’ beliefs for what they are: childish thoughts seen “darkly.” Those beliefs, doctrines, statements of faith which I hold so dear and am so willing to fight for may be just the airy logic of a mind with insufficient information or one with insufficient relationship with the God of reality to truly know, understand, act upon and draw conclusions from. Jesus said that we should become as little children. Perhaps, if we take Him at His word, we can begin the maturation process toward a logic born of His adult logic and reach true conclusions. In the meantime, it behooves us to talk and walk carefully around each other’s belief systems and to hold our own beliefs loosely, ready to be corrected when new insight, new knowledge, deeper relationship challenges and corrects us. 4/5/13

Killing God

ELyle and Erik Menendez were convicted on August 20, 1990, for the murder of their parents, Jose and Kitty Menendez. It was a particularly brutal murder. Their father was shot in the back of the head with a shotgun. Kitty was shot from behind multiple times. In the months which followed, the two young men, then 18 and 21, went on a lavish spending spree. They purchased Rolex watches, expensive cars, rented penthouse suites, traveled and lived a life of wealth. Estimates are that they spent nearly a million dollars in the six months following the murder of their parents. Their crimes stands as a grim landmark among those violent acts perpetrated by Americans on one another. We react with horror at their conscienceless deed, but, in fact, we share with them the guilt of an act of profitable murder. From Eden to the cross, mankind killed their God in ritual and symbol, in type and ceremony. God Himself legislated this. Abel, Noah, Abraham, prophets, priests and kings all performed the grisly act of symbolic murder. Rivers of blood and millions of carcasses litter the pages of the Jewish scriptures. Each one a symbol of forgiveness and reconciliation; a relationship restored in the blood of the innocent killed by the guilty. Then, on that wondrous, horrific day, man slew, not the symbol of God, but God Himself; and we were all, in a way, there. We betrayed Him in our stand-in, Judas; We condemned Him as Caiaphas; we washed our hands of His guilt as Pilate; we mocked and scourged and crowned Him with thorns in those anonymous Roman soldiers; we drove in the nails, lifted and dropped the cross into its place and thrust in the spear. Yes, we do share the guilt of His death. We, the murderers, like the Menendez brothers, benefit from our deed. His death is our forgiveness and our reconciliation; the very death that we perpetrated gives us access to Him. In some mysterious way, we are actors in our own redemption. This is not to say, that we are our own saviors. Far from it. But we do benefit in the murder that results in our forgiveness. That which we did in hatred, anger or ignorance against God was, by Him, turned to our blessing. He offered up His own life, it is true, but we are the instrument of His death. Somehow, in some cavernous mysterious way, we are necessary players in this drama. The act of atonement would not have accomplished its purpose had He died in suicide or at the hands of an angel or in releasing His life without our participation. It was our destiny to kill god. In the hidden plans of Father and Son, before our beginning, their purposes were laid out. His death at our hands was pre-ordained. The long bloody history of death, the slaughter of millions of lambs, birds and bullocks all point to this fact. None of these deaths were natural; all were caused by the hand of a human. All the ritual cleansings, all the guilt, sin, burnt and peace offerings were acts of violence against the symbol of the Son of Man and Son of God. Each was perpetrated by the guilty human who received forgiveness as a result. That most-famous of all Isaiah’s pronouncements graphically underlines this fact: He was pierced through for our transgressions, He was crushed for our iniquities; The chastening for our well-being fell upon Him, And by His scourging we are healed. (Isaiah 53:5) Each benefit foretold, the forgiveness of our iniquities and transgressions, the resulting state of well-being and healing is the result of piercing, crushing, chastening and scourging. Each is also at the hand of humankind; I, the murderer, am forgiven by the very act of murder. There is in this fact some vast mysterious Plan, a profound Purpose which is just beyond my horizon of understanding. I sense the import, crave to know and immerse myself in it. But for now, it eludes me. Perhaps I shall never fully know, this side of that great eternal Then, but, though desiring, am content to contemplate the glimpse afforded. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lyle_and_Erik_Menendez I gave my back to the smiters, and my cheeks to them that plucked off the hair: I hid not my face from shame and spitting. Isaiah 50:6 according to the Law, one may almost say, all things are cleansed with blood, and without shedding of blood there is no forgiveness. Hebrews 9:22 "The God of our fathers raised up Jesus, whom you had put to death by hanging Him on a cross. "He is the one whom God exalted to His right hand as a Prince and a Savior, to grant repentance to Israel, and forgiveness of sins. Acts 5: 30 , 31 For the life of the flesh is in the blood, and I have given it to you on the altar to make atonement for your souls; for it is the blood by reason of the life that makes atonement.´ Leviticus 17:11 Men of Israel, listen to these words: Jesus the Nazarene, a man attested to you by God with miracles and wonders and signs which God performed through Him in your midst, just as you yourselves know --this Man, delivered over by the predetermined plan and foreknowledge of God, you nailed to a cross by the hands of godless men and put Him to death. But God raised Him up again, putting an end to the agony of death, since it was impossible for Him to be held in its power. Acts 2:22-24 11/21/13

...But for the Grace of God

A famous long-dead preacher once said to a friend about a drunk man lying in the gutter: “There, but for the grace of God, go I.” In my imaginative ear, I hear the drunk, after lifting his head to stare into the long-dead preacher’s face: “And there, sir, but for the grace of God, go I.” Then and still perhaps only in speculation, I hear him say, “And here, by the grace of God, am I,” as his face falls back into his own vomit. How do we know that, whatever our position in life, that it isn’t exactly where God wants us to be? Food for thought is this. 8/25/12

Bride of Christ

A worn-out castaway woman, burdened by too much and too little tries to argue theology with God. Then, in one brief sentence, He answers the deepest longing of her heart, "I, who speak to you, am He." I am right here, standing in front of you, the Messiah of your dreams; the vague someday-One whom you all hope for; right here, right now; Me.” To this woman of Jacob's well, He revealed for the first time His messiahship. This nameless Samaritan was favored by His most direct revelation of Himself: “I, who speak unto you am He.” He didn’t play word games with her as He did with the Pharisees. He didn’t use parables as He did with His disciples and the crowds. He spoke directly and clearly with her and acknowledged her seeking heart. The three-dimensional stories of the Bible are mostly about men: Noah, Abraham, Joseph, David, Solomon, Elijah. But the color and nuance of the stories, woven against the rough woof of testosterone-driven action, are the gentle, insightful stories of women. Sarah, Rebekah, Ruth, Hannah, Bathsheba, the several Marys of the gospels, the women around the cross, the women first up to attend to the duties of burial, the first to see Him risen, the first to bring the great good news. Others, nameless but not forgotten, cross the stage of Jesus’ life in brief cameo appearances: The woman who touched the hem of His robe and was healed, the Syro-Phoenician woman, the woman caught in adultery. These were not the wives of priests or rulers; of generals or kings. They were not the upstanding moral women of the town. They were the looked-down-upon; the pull-your-robe-closer-so-as-not-to-touch women; the ignore-and-pass-by-on-the-other-side-of-the-street women. Their shadows were avoided. They were spat upon, degraded and humiliated by the moral majority. But Jesus seemed to delight in finding and delivering more of the kingdom to them than to the Pharisees and His own disciples. Their hearts were won by His words, His tender acts to their children; His recognition of their value; His confidence in them. He recognized the strength hidden behind the physical frailty. He acknowledged their awareness of His heart. Each, in her own way, is a facet, a partial symbol of His church: His Bride. I puzzle over how to know the Church in this most significant analogy. It is not discoverable by theological wrestlings; by reason; by intellect; not even by experience-for I am a man, not a woman. So, my sisters in the Church, I ask you to teach us, to show us men that part of the Church which we cannot know. It is only in this way that we will ever hope to understand that which you know so very well simply by living the life of a woman. 1 21 09

ABortion 2

When does life begin? Is it at conception? Birth? At six weeks of gestation? The debate rolls on with each viewpoint having its vociferous advocates. Beliefs are so extreme in some that they are willing to take life to preserve life. Others are so vehement in support of a woman’s reproductive rights that an entire nation’s legal system has been changed to support the view. Advocates of either side would agree, though, that at some point, life begins and should not arbitrarily be disrupted without due process of law. The unborn or newborn comes into her or his own rights which take precedence over those of the mother. I have argued previously that the rights issue should be settled on the side of erring in favor of the weakest and most voiceless of two opponents, so my bias is already in favor of the fetus from conception onward. There is a perspective which neither side has argued as far as I know, a perspective that might make for a more civilized debate. What if the question, “When does life begin?” is the wrong question? Perhaps we should look at conception not as a beginning point, but as a point in a continuation. We all agree that both parents of a child have life; dead people cannot procreate. The cells of their bodies are alive as long as they remain connected to the rest of the body. This is just as true for the egg and sperm generated by each parent. Independent of the parent, the cells will die. But, when combined in conception, two halves become a whole; two dependent cells become one independent cell and the life of each parent flows into a new being which didn’t exist prior to that instant. A new life has not just begun, it is a continuation of the lives of the parents. Whether one believes from an original amoeba or from the breath of God, there was a starting point for life; for human life. Each successive generation is but an extension of that original life-the mythical or real Adam and Eve. Abortion then, is a killing of a part of ourselves; a chopping off of a limb, a strangulation of a future part of ourselves; a premature dead end. Even in cases in which pregnancy is unsought and unwanted—rape and incest, for example-a part of the mother is terminated. Not being a woman, I cannot know the emotional issues connected with even a desired pregnancy. But perhaps, considering one more rational argument against abortion may encourage one more mother to place her infant for adoption rather than opting for an abortion and one less child will be sucked into the sewer system Being a male of the species, I cannot demand, should not rule, will not force women to be and do what I deem best, most moral, most beneficial. I cannot live in her shoes for even a moment, knowing the life-changing issues around pregnancy. I can, though, speak from a position as interested and involved bystander. It is potentially my progeny being aborted as well as hers. What effects one, effects us all. As we treated our weakest, so we sometime will be treated. May we find, with divine wisdom, a solution which recognizes all rights, which seeks to meet all needs, which finds a way for life to grow and thrive. Should we not succeed, we doom ourselves to moral lassitude and eventual extinction. 1.11.12

Abortion 1

Tension sizzled in the air, suspended, awaiting the crack of the gavel signaling the opening of a capital murder trial. He was a young black man, accused of murder. On jury duty for the second time in as many years, I sat near the outside edge of the jury pool, listening as lawyers maneuvered to select jurors most sympathetic to their case. My turn came. There was a moment of silence, then half-embarrassed whispers among the attorneys, then a carefully-worded objection to the judge even before any questions were directed to me. “Mr. Parker, will your er blindness effect your ability to render a fair verdict in the trial before this court?” asked the judge. In my mind’s eye, the statue of Justice mounted in front of the courthouse rolled her eyes behind her makeshift blindfold and shook her head at the irony. I stood, hoped I was facing the judge and, leaning on my white cane, addressed the court. “Your honor, as a United States citizen it is my duty, my privilege and my right to serve on the jury in a trial. However, the rights of the accused trump my rights. If there is any chance that my blindness would interfere in a fair hearing for the accused, then his rights supersede mine.” (I think retroactive memory may have colored the phrasing a bit,. It was most likely far less dramatic and formal than my memory presents it to me now). The judge conferred with the two attorneys and dismissed me with thanks. In this real, but perhaps slightly dramatized retelling of the event, two rights are in conflict: my right to serve on a jury versus the rights of the accused to have a fair hearing. How does a society like ours, built on the rights of individuals, resolve such conflicts? In this example, there are two layers of rights: The first is in the severity of the consequences; the second the relative powerlessness of the two. For the purposes of this essay, I would like to dwell on the second. A young black man in custody for murder in an all-white courtroom. Probably in handcuffs and with armed guards in the room, with the accusation staring him in the face, he was the one with the least power. Any attempt to escape would be met with instant dire consequences; I was free to leave of my own accord. This relationship of power between two incompatible rights, I call the Powerless Axis. At this writing, election 2012 is a little over two months away. Debate, accusation, lies and innuendo are flying thicker than flies on a cow patty. Abortion has just hit center stage with Todd Aiken’s “legitimate rape” comment. Stripped of all the political hot air, the issue crystalizes into the rights of an unborn fetus versus the rights of a woman over her own body. Many would disagree vehemently with my basic assumption that life is a continuum from conception to death. But since none can agree on a definition of life and since one cell divides into two, two into four until more than a trillion cells make up a living adult human, I see no natural dividing line we can use to determine the beginning of life. Back to my premise: Leaving all other considerations such as rape, incest, mother’s health out of the equation, and judging one versus the other and applying the Powerless principle, it is clear the fetus is the weaker; the more powerless; who has absolutely no protection against the powerful suction tube wielded by the physician. Our Founding Fathers did not consider women, slaves and non-landowners equal to the landed gentry such as G Washington and T Jefferson. Yet they laid a foundation on which the rights of these groups could be and would later be built. Recognizing their humanity, their individual worth, their value made it possible to eventually make these groups more equal with rich white men than they were in the past. Slaves were freed; women got the vote, land-ownership and other tests of voting were struck down. I believe that one of the reasons these eventually won out is that of a recognition of the relative powerlessness of one group under the dominion of another. We are faced with an incredibly complex and divisive issue in abortion. Compounding the problem is its politization. To please their voting blocs, both Left and Right saddle the unborn fetus attempting to ride it to political victory. We need to step back, take a deep breath and begin to assess abortion with at least this powerlessness axis in mind. We will probably never come to consensus, but perhaps we can begin to speak to one another without the nails-on-blackboard screech that passes for discussion today. Perhaps we can wrestle the issue away from the idiocy of the political process and begin to discuss it in human terms among ourselves. Perhaps, over time, we could even resolve the dilemma in a way that protects the rights of both mother and babe with dignity and compassion. But I doubt it. 9/1/12

Falling Water

EAs the fall of water is cloaked in its own mist, so You hide Yourself in plain sight. We hear the roar of Your presence, but think it only a passing bus or roll of distant thunder. You exhibit Yourself in animate and inanimate, but we trample You underfoot, unaware. You shine in our darkness, but we comprehend You not. The mist of your presence drenches us; to us it is only rain. You are here and now, then and there, in all of our yesterdays and tomorrows; we see only the dust and drudge of the ordinary. Oh Lord, open our eyes that we may comprehend that we can look, touch, hear, smell no place or experience that you are not—for in You we live and move and have our existence. 11/27/13

Unfinished Stories

What do the story of the prodigal son and the Lady and the Tiger have in common? They are both unfinished stories. The power of an unfinished story is in how it draws the reader in, forces him to confront himself; examine his own responses and place himself in the story. For example, in the Lady and the tiger, the princess and the slave both have two possible responses. She, jealous of another loving her beloved, might indicate the tiger door or she might, loving her lover more than her jealousy, might indicate the door of the beautiful slave woman. He doubting the love of the princess, might choose the door opposite to her indication or he, fully confident of her love, might follow her inclined pillow. In either case, we, the readers, are confronted with the choices offered by love and the confidence in our own beloveds. In the so-called Prodigal Son story, Jesus leaves the response of the older son unknown. The younger son has squandered and returned. The older son has remained loyal but unloving, uncommitted to the Father who loves him just as dearly. He has not left home to return later and be welcomed home. He has stayed home but remains in a distant land from which he cannot be welcomed home until he knows he is in a distant land and until he knows that his father will welcome him home. We, the redeemed and unredeemed of this world, also live in an unfinished story. The chaos and confusion of life’s traumas and triumphs leave us breathless for the end of the story. Even we who know Him, know only in part how the story will truly end. We are all, either the older or younger son; we choose one door or the other. We can live in the grace of His free forgiveness and reconciliation or in the cold formalism of legality. We can respond to the princess’s nod with confidence in her love or with a cynic’s knowledgeable view of how things really work. Perhaps, knowing the true outcome of all, we could sit back and not worry about it, but these choices make for a happy healthy relationship with our Father and His Son or keeps us in alienation and restless resentment. As the other prodigal son and the slave-lover, the choice is mine and the choice is yours. 11/27/13 The Lady and the Tiger By Frank Stockton (1834-1902) http://www.eastoftheweb.com/short-stories/UBooks/LadyTige.shtml

Black Felt

Evil is merely the black felt against which The Pearl most clearly displays His luster.

Red Ink

Scripture is written in blood the blood of Jesus Christ. Every word, every character every dot on every I is written in His blood. Without it, the words would have no meaning. No message of deliverance would be in its pages. It would be a dead book of history of an ancient civilization, not the actions of a God who invaded this world in a way that changed everything. 04/17/2003

Rider on a White Horse

He sits, straight and tall in the saddle; riding straight ahead with nothing able to block Him. His horse is white; His robe was white. Now it is crimson with His own blood; saturated, drenched, dripping with His life. And I? My robe is white, pure white. Not a single drop of blood stains my robe. It should have been the other way 'round: my blood staining my own robe; His pure white, glistening white. But it is the way it is, thanks be to Him! 09/25/09

Seeing the LightBefore 1985 blind people had limited opportunities for employment which mostly involved caning chairs, making brooms tuning pianos or being a musician. Before that, we were dependent on family or the charity of strangers. Rare was the Galileo, Milton or Homer who carved a niche for himself in history in spite of his blindness

Before 1985 blind people had limited opportunities for employment which mostly involved caning chairs, making brooms tuning pianos or being a musician. Before that, we were dependent on family or the charity of strangers. Rare was the Galileo, Milton or Homer who carved a niche for himself in history in spite of his blindness. The room in which I teach we call the "Brooms to Bytes" room since it was originally a broom factory but now is a modern computer lab. To use these computers we have many tools such as screen readers, optical character recognition software, refreshable braille displays and talking GPS. It's is not easy learning these devices and software products. My screen reader is called "JAWS." In order to use the Internet effectively, I must know 45 to 50 different keyboard commands and key combinations. All this to take the place of something you do with a single mouse click. All this technology, all this effort to learn and use these complex devices is to substitute for vision. We can spend thousands of dollars and dozens of hours learning in order to solve just one small aspect of our blindness. Is this not unlike our spiritual world? Paul said "We see through a glass darkly." We see but dimly into that shadowy realm of the Spirit. All of life on our side of the veil is but a faded sepia of heaven’s realities. We who live in physical darkness sometimes yearn for the light. We who live in the darkness of this world crave the Light Who is beyond our physical vision. We pray, we sing, we worship and are blessed; we fellowship and participate but it is a meager substitute for one moment in the sunshine of His presence, a "tool" to bridge the gap between our spiritual blindness and the time when we will see, truly see, the Sunshine of the universe. Now and ever, be Thou our vision, Lord Jesus. 2/4/08

Crown of Thorns

Well-dried, hard and sharp I chose, as one who knows; For I have chosen before, Many a time but this time more. Hard, tempered sharp, Ready and eager to pierce, to part Unresisting skin Seeking blood within The fragile skin. I picked them, Twisted them, Twined them Into a crown; A mocking circle of thorn; A parody and parable of disowning. In my zeal, My desire to steal That which was not mine, But Thine, But which you gave: Your pain my gain. In my zeal to wound The thorn thrust deep into my own not-so-tender flesh; Blood spurts fresh Staining the crown of thorns I made for You With my own crimson hue. But you wore them as I placed them; Many the points the wounds With which You healed mine own. Your wounding absorbed mine My wounding healed by thine. I inflict pain, You inflict healing and balm Oh marvelous exchange From one deranged To one fully sane. From one crushed To one made \whole. Ah Lord Jesus, how magnificent is your way; How far beyond our thought that we can pay. 1 23 12

Barker, Barker

“Barker! Barker! Barker” I sang to myself as I swung round and round the “No Parking” pole. I was four and for some reason, I remember asking my mother what “our” name was. I heard “Barker” and ran outside to fix it in memory, making myself dizzy but successfully remembering it. Unfortunately our family name isn’t Barker, but Parker, but at that detail came later. More than the incident, the childhood memory of the action that day is the sense of belonging, of family. The world became more than “I,” it became “we.” Something there was which was larger, a greater total. The experience has lasted a lifetime; There is more to me than just me. Since then, over the intervening 62 years, I have come to realize, beware, to know, to experience that I belong not only to my original five, but to my spouse, children, grandchildren; to my circumstances, colleagues friends and members of the Body of Christ. Even those whom I find distasteful, arrogant; who disagree with me, who oppose me. But there is more. A few weeks ago, sitting with dear friends over lunch, talking of our Lord, an inexpressible longing came over me; a longing for that “something more,” the Someone More. I tried to put it into words, but was at a loss. “A deeper relationship,” “knowing Him more, “nothing seemed to express the longing completely. We talked of more study, more prayer, longer time spent in these activities. But these, too, fell short. We talked of experience, of charismatic experiences and though I’m not opposed to experience, wonderful though they must be, they are temporary, with gaps in the glory. Then, over the last day and a half, a growing sense of what may be the answer has dawned. At first, the thought came, “Live Your life within me.” I realized, that, if indeed I am in Christ, that He is already living in me-I don’t need to ask for something that is already reality. Then it changed to, “You are living in me.” This seemed closer, but not quite the reality. Finally, this morning, it came to me, “I open myself to the reality of Your life lived in me and through me.” This accepts the fact of His indwelling; it is experiential without depending or even asking for sensation or experiences. It recognizes that the barrier to “knowing” Him is myself. It comes to Him with no expectations, but leaves me open to when and how He wishes to make Himself known to me. It does not exclude the possibility of ecstatic experience, of miraculous events, but does not seek them as primary. It leaves open the ways in which He will interact through me with my world. Perhaps now, I will know, recognize, experience that Reality which is the ultimate recognition of family; of belonging, of union, far beyond self, birth family, marriage, friendship and all other relationship but which makes them real and alive. May it be so. In our “real” life, our physical being, we know that life is a gift; we did nothing to conceive or birth ourselves. We breathe, eat, drink and life continues until that mysterious day when it ceases. So often I have confused the food, air and drink of study, prayer, meditation, good deeds as life in the Spirit. The life in the Spirit is a gift; it is ours. We only tend it, feed, water and air it in the external things we do to and for ourselves and others. No matter if I have memorized the whole of the scriptures, spend eight hours a day in prayer and meditation and serve others the other twelve, I have it all backward and inside out. This is not life; it is like trying to feed and give drink to a stone. No life results from these actions. But, with His life lived, recognized in me, these actions foster the life in the Spirit; Christ in us, the assurance of glory.

Two Sparrows

What is the current price for a pair of sparrows? Isn’t it one Penney? Did you know that not even one of these two sparrows can falter, stop flying, fall to the ground apart from your Father? He keeps them flying; He lets them down to their rest gently, holding them in His arms all the way. Think about it: How much more valuable are you than two sparrows? Aren’t you worth many times more? To your Father you have infinite worth-far beyond even a flock of sparrows. Even more than a sparrow, He hold you up, supports you, carries you through life and, when the time comes, lays you gently to rest, safe in His arms for your nap. (Matt 10:29, greatly paraphrased) Trembling and fearful, we fight against the inevitability of death. Medicine, surgery, exercise, diet are all enlisted to prolong life. Charlatans and quacks prey on the gullible with life-extending promises of water from the fountain of youth. When the day finally arrives, as it always does, we go kicking and screaming into the long night. But for we who believe, there is an alternative. We need not fear death. It may be even that faith’s first test is to release us from that fear-the fear of what many believe to be the unknowable. In one dimension, He came to relieve this fear: “Therefore, since the children share in flesh and blood, He Himself likewise also partook of the same, that through death He might render powerless him who had the power of death, that is, the devil…” Hebrews 2:14. His death saps the strength of the one who claims power over death; He died the death that we might live. As age progresses, as the end looms larger, we can rest in the absolute certainty that there is life just over the horizon. Life’s tempests can lull us to sleep as did the raging waves of Galilee to our Lord. May every sparrow’s chirp be to you today an assurance of our Father’s loving watchcare; of His surrounding arms; of His knowing the way, having trod it before us. 10/30/13