She places the wildflower behind my ear. Ever so gently she adjusts it and then – she smiles at me, satisfied with her work. There you go, you’re a delight to behold. Feeling a bit silly, I grin back. If you insist, my love. Only for you. And so now we mosey on down the trail towards the falls far ahead. We can hear them now, but barely. The sound of water crashing is music to my ears and I thrill to imagine the rainbow through the spray. But first the path afore us must be trod. I reach out my hand and feel her fingers with my own. For a few minutes we walk without conversation as the symphony of the forest fills our ears. Down through the canopy filters late afternoon sunlight dappling the path in patterns grander and more wild than any painter could fathom. We are close now as we see the trees begin to dance back away from the path. Oh there! Her clear voice breaks into the symphony like a trumpet call from the balcony. I see it I reply. And then I cannot help but ask. Do you hear the music? She smiles and nods in response as we feel the mist upon our face. And oh do you smell the violets? Strong and pure and sweet their scent rises to dance upon the breeze. She turns slightly towards me, the smile still hovering on her lips in subconscious joy. There are rainbows in her eyes.
Month: March 2025
The Flowers of the Field
Oh sometimes I delight in the warm spring days of March. This one the temperature may be slightly higher than I would prefer yet no complaints. Dani and I had an ever so lovely walk down the MKT trail, enjoying the strong breeze that heralds drier air approaching. The sun smiled down upon us and the blue sky shone inviolate. Many other walkers were enjoying the same path as we, and I enjoyed the presence of fellow human souls bustling to and fro as Dani and I enjoyed sweet conversation and sweeter smiles turned upon each other. And now back home! Because it is positively too nice outside to stay indoors for long, I am thinking the poolside calls my name. A cold drink in hand and a new book beckons. This ides of March is one to be delighted in I say.
Wildflowers
i yawn as the early light tiptoes through the blinds
breakfast is really simple today she says
and that’s exactly what i’m in the mood for
scrambled eggs and toast with avocado spread
later as i sip my black coffee i say
these quiet springtime mornings
are my fav
Amongst the Willows
More thoughts on more books.
21. Tales From the Perilous Realm by J.R.R. Tolkien. Of course this one was lovely. It’s Tolkien and his prose and wit is always a delight to enjoy. And enjoy I did! This is a slender volume of a few of Tolkien’s short stories – none of which I have ever read – along with some of his poetry, some of which is quoted (either partially or in full) in his other works. I will confess that I do not think Tolkien is a brilliant poet, but I still smiled to read his poems nonetheless. But his stories? They were full of creative whimsy, humorous & beautiful all. The last story – Leaf by Niggle – has so many pointers to higher things that I think it would take ages to unpack it all, yet it did leave me thinking about some of Tolkien’s theological beliefs. More than almost any other work of his did this work indicate his thoughts on one’s purpose on this earth in light of the eternal. I am always grateful to read more Tolkien and always impressed by the creative fire that burned within his soul.
22. The Work of the Pastor by William Still. A remarkable small book on the most important work a pastor can do for his flock. Namely – feed it. I could write paragraphs and paragraphs on this book, yet I think that sums it up well enough. This book is based off a series of addresses to ministers (or ministers-in-training) given by William Still in the last century. William Still is a former pastor – now gone to his rest – of Gilcomston South Church in Aberdeen, Scotland. And he spent over fifty years pastoring this one church. That may seem remarkable in this day and age, but this experience enables him to preach with conviction one of the themes of this book – focus on feeding the flock which is yours and avoid being distracted by other things, as shiny or diverting as they may appear. Preach the word! In season and out of season, and so William Still did. And so in reading his advice to other ministers, it helped to keep in mind that the advice he gave was coming from a man who believed so strongly in the power of the Word of God by the workings of the Holy Spirit. He states simply that he could in and of himself do nothing for people. Only God can change hearts. And one of the primary mechanisms for working in hearts is the Word of God which has been given to us. And so Still exhorts ministers to avoid spending time on frivolous side-ministries and to avoid spending time chasing after those who do not want to be chased. Instead, a pastor simply must be faithful to his congregation in providing them what has been given to him to preach. A pastor must have a strong relationship with Christ and love Him above all else, for this light shall not go unnoticed! A pastor must keep his focus narrow and allow the Spirit to work through his congregation and their giftings to accomplish the purposes of God throughout the community and the world. There are many nuggets in this book and far more I could discuss but I fear I have already been overly verbose. There are parts of this book where the author is very strong, almost too strong I could fear. But that is just my soft modern ethos speaking. I appreciate the author’s boldness and burden for the church. And he speaks strongly because he knows the ministers he is addressing need to be convinced of the truth which he shares. Grateful for this pastor and the work he did in Gilcomston South. Grateful for his frankness and passion in sharing with us all the “secrets” to pastoring a church. It really is quite simple in the end. A pastor of a church is an under-shepherd – one tasked with growing and maturing his flock to offer them as living sacrifices to the Good Shepherd. And so this shepherd – pastor – must know his flock intimately and feed them well. This is a hard task and not meant for many. But God shall richly reward his faithful servants.
The Writings of Mr. Lucius Cavandar, XII
A few thoughts on a book this lovely springtime day.
20. John G. Paton – A Missionary to the New Hebrides by John Paton. A fantastic autobiography, truly one of the most inspiring and interesting books I’ve read this year. I’ve had this book on my shelf for over a year now and never quite got to it, partly because of its size and partly because of my terribly misplaced thought that because it was a 19th-century autobiography it would be a slow and tedious read. Oh how wrong I was. This book was action-packed (truly!), quick paced and a joy to read. But what is it about? Well, it’s the story of a man’s missionary life in the New Hebrides, an island group a bit to the northwest of Australia. John Paton was a Scottish man who set his course to follow the directions of his Lord and his heart burned within him to go and preach the gospel to those who had never heard such a wondrous mystery. I keep wanting to go into detail on this man’s gospel-fever and his quest to speak of love of Jesus to cannibal heathens and his delight in seeing the Spirit work, yet I cannot do this book justice with my feeble words! But I feel that this book (published in the late 19th century itself) surely is an essential read to anyone seeking to do missionary work in a far off land. Paton discusses the travails and struggles of working with a people whose culture and ways are oh so different…yet he also speaks of the ways in which the men and women he encounters are not that different from the Scottish folks he had left behind. And you’ll notice earlier I used the word “heathen”, a word (along with pagan) that Paton is not shy about slinging around during his narrative. That may seem crass and misguided in this day and age, but of truth I was a bit delighted to read Paton using this word in the sense in which it is the most fitting – of those who do not know God or practice the works of God. As Paton’s work progresses, he is unsparing about his comparisons of the natives he has settled amongst versus the people of his homeland and is very fiery in his describing the majority of his fellow countrymen back home as “white heathens!” Paton with love and grace shows how God works in hearts of people throughout the globe, no matter their colour or race. Yes, some of his descriptors and tone may seem a bit outdated to our modern ears, but all in all, this is a sound book, full of the passion Paton has for seeing the gospel of Jesus Christ be made known. And just as Paton describes the struggle of missionary life in the faraway land, he also spends much time (perhaps too much for my liking?) describing the most dreaded part of all missionary life. Fund-raising. There is much discussion of Paton using his skills in public speaking and relationship forming to criss-cross Australia (and later the world!) to raise awareness for the mission to the New Hebrides and the needs that could be met if regular church-goers felt the urge to give and support. This book felt remarkably modern with Paton’s very real and practical discussion of what was needed to keep the missions supported. At times I felt I disagreed slightly with the approach taken (multiple large collections taken to purchase their own ships which seemed to me perhaps not the right move?) and at times I felt I was only hearing one side of the story (which, true – as this is an autobiography!), but in truth? This book is remarkably valuable as a primary source and a work in which a missionary describes in detail his work over the course of many years. It is even fascinating observing how Paton’s own beliefs change over time. When he is in Ireland for one of his fund-raising tours, he mentions his impatience with the whole “Organ Debate” and the question of instrumental music in churches. He mentions his former staunch belief that instruments should not be allowed in churches but that his practical experience in the New Hebrides using instruments and the singing of hymns changed his mind for good!
I mentioned earlier that this book was action-packed and quick-paced. That is true. There is so much going on, lots of adventures that Paton is involved in (truly only God could have protected him during the many perilous encounters he was involved in!) and the way in which Paton describes the natives and the conversations he had with them is utterly gripping. At times I wished Paton had maybe described himself and his family a bit more (his wife and children were mentioned barely at all!), but that is not Paton’s focus. He is – probably rightfully – focused on the task at hand, the mission to the natives of the New Hebrides and his heart burns to make known the tale. This is not a man writing something so that he might be known by posterity. Nay, this is a man writing a very gripping account of present-day happenings that he might spread awareness of his mission and the work that God hath wrought in lands long-thought unreachable. I would strongly recommend this book to any missionary or anyone with a heart for missions…and indeed, any Christian whose heart thrills to hear the accounts of God working, which even to this day He is.
Silverlight
the ever changing rivers flow westwards
emptying in the ever changing sea
and in a moment as I kneel above
i think of the differences between
you and me
and it is comforting to know that though
even though for peace i unceasingly strive
my mind is manic and not a bit static
much as the water falls from the mountains high
and crashes down below on rocks unyielding
the wet spray reaching even to my wet eyes
so too recognize the fact most strange
though i recognize my chaotic nature
that you yourself do not cannot change
this wonderous eternal truth blossoms full
your very divine immutability
and so i take a breath and sigh
and look out over the waves that dance in the sea
for indeed in gratitude i have no other choice
in you unshaking
still sorrowing yet
i rejoice
Mountains
Oh how I enjoy the eating of strawberries and the concept of picnics underneath gently spreading willow trees. And sometimes in past years I’ve entertained pieces of poetry in my own imagination as I’ve opened wide my heart to those friends whom I hold dear. These times in which the mind soars on the wings of a fresh spring day and feels unreasonably exuberant at the thought of stable intimacy in the frolic of conversation with another? These are the moments which I treasure and hold up to the lamplight in my mind’s eye. Do you remember this? That night in the parking lot when you held court with those dear ones and talked for hours on the subjects that so inflamed your heart? I do, oh I do. And that is why it is not ridiculous to seek to create such environments in which these moments of near divine coherence might bloom into glorious life. I cannot lay claim to such power or intellect that I can in and of myself cause such profound utterances, for that is beyond the power of mortals, even ones as fair as we claim to be. But perhaps I recognize the fact that eternity is not at all as nebulous as it would seem to those without eyes to see. Instead in faith I look with eyes new opened to a sight that is not in my mind’s capacity to fully grasp at least not yet. See the far off shore appearing now even through the fog? See the budding trees and the mountains rising high? So yes, dear friend, let us talk of matters eternal and seek to know the face of God. And as we fill our dreams with thoughts of glory, I ask if you’d join me for a picnic by the gentle flowing stream. I have chicken sandwiches and chips and pickles and yes you don’t have to ask, also strawberries.
Memory Falls
i sit down upon the precipice
lording over all my shattered dreams
for which i see now were simply pieces
of the road as it was meant to be
and see now say now why not now
would i write this song how
i heard it in my head that autumn night
so many years ago found
on the bench under the lamppost
as the snow came drifting down
for as the scars upon my back attest
my fear and shaking hands drove me harder
than the clinging to my innocence
and i cannot rest now even though
the wounds are not quite healed
but for example take a whiff of this
on my hands this rose i hold dear
and you’ll understand that even
in my darkest years
i clung to something greater
and still do so perhaps i can now sit
amidst the wildflowers
and watch the stream wind to and fro
perhaps i can now in subservience rest
upon this sacred mount where olives grow
Lifelines
A few (very few! I promise!) thoughts on books this Saturday afternoon.
18. To Challenge Chaos by Brian Stableford. I’m typically a big fan of Stableford’s weird and wild sci-fi books, but this was a bit of a miss for me. Probably the worst of his I’ve read. Yes it still has Stableford’s characteristic breadth of imagination and delightful prose, but the story itself was a bit too colour-by-number. Almost felt as if one was tossing Canterbury Tales, Hyperion and an Orphic legend into a pot and stirring to see what would result. And the result is muddy. Ah well.
19. The Ancient One by T.A. Barron. I may be the wrong audience for this. If I was 11 or 12, it’s very possible I would have loved this fantastical adventure. As it is, I was left a bit cold. After recently reading Richard Powers’ “Overstory”, I wanted to read another tree book and found this one recommended. It certainly does have strong tree-themes, but it’s a bit more YA than I was anticipating! Lots of Native lore and environmentalist themes which in and of themselves is not a bad thing, but the story itself felt a bit on the nose and also boring at times? I struggled to want to pick it up to read and forced myself to finish. I will say the last quarter or so did finally engage my attention! Not a bad book, but again – maybe it’s my fault for being the wrong age when reading this!
Sychar
the sun dazzles above my head and i lean down
to look at the only source of relief i have
in this lost and abandoned age
down below far below perhaps below
is the water that i seek
does it dazzle or is it only a mirage
perhaps one day i will be satisfied with less
though now i can never get enough
always thirsty for more and more and more
so i come here again and bend my back and strain
for that which i crave yet never
enough
for that which i need or so i say
perhaps there is nothing more
and there is no new and dawning day
yet the song i sing turns
to the refrain
as i go back to that well once again
why do i thirst?
Something Weird 