Too often do I wish to write with sparkling wit and put down on paper thoughts that will cause those to read to exclaim in glory. I wish to write with subtlety and with prose that dances up and down the page in elaborate harmonies. Yet what so often happens? My fingers and thoughts run away with themselves and though I start with such grand intention and with such a perfect framework cottage in my mind, I end staring at a castle of grotesquerie that proclaims in bold typeface that theme that I thought so delicate when I began. Alas can it be that I simply do not quite have the mind or tools to express those burning lines of poetry in my heart? Or perhaps – the worse option – is it that the thoughts and dreams I think so lovely are in fact reflections of a dullness within that yet remains no matter all my attempts to burnish in flame. Well perhaps it’s good for my humility that I am destined to be no great artist. It helps me to hold a candle up to my fellow humanity and whisper soft – yes, I am just like you in the end no matter what words I write down. I am too like you a mere clay pot. But still yet my eyes peer to the far horizon that I may gain a glimpse of that glory for which I long. And see. I’ve done it again. I might as well own up to my own folly and be resigned to being called a fool for that which I hope. Better that than a crown that’s destined to burn.
Visions
It was a long time ago it seems that we walked this forest path. I breathed deep of pine and beech and of an impulse I take your hand. The air is quiet in the way you only get when you’re far off from any sounds of engines or whirring gears though now and again I hear a bird pipe up and say hello hello my friend I’m here! And the air is quiet but it’s also heavy with the air of anticipation that a long awaited moment brings. This of course is something I bring into the forest and so is not native to this land. I turn and look at you and note how still your face is as you simply soak in the moment of a quiet stroll through this fairy realm. It does indeed seem like one of the small woods-folk could be around the next bend and we could have a chat, if only we had the eyes to see of course. But do we? I don’t bring this thread to the surface and chase it down for fear of diverting us from this melody of life. Do you hear the music, my friend? Do you? With that breaking of the silence, you turn to me and smile. This wood is delightful you say, truly I can’t believe we’re here walking where once legends dwelt. And for this moment I’ve waited ever so long, to be here with you, while overhead towers the trees we love. Is it enough, this wood?
Not long ago was it that we sat on the edge of a cliffside and gently tended that fire of roses. We talk of this and that upon this cliff looking out over the seas that leap and shout. But in the stark grey beauty of the ocean there is a moment that I quiver. And I sing now oh be still my heart! From where comes the song that was promised for I wait to hear the long lost melody. You say softly that the song was written on that piece of parchment. And I reply that somehow I knew it was meant for me. I shiver as I think that soon my lips shall sing these words. We both lean closer to the cliffside and let our bodies rejoice in this sea spray. My eyes sparkle with anticipation as I turn to you and say – shall we sit upon the edge here and let our feet dangle and talk of all the tales that we’ve not yet told? You giggle and stir the fire casually and mutter low – I have so many things to tell you. I never want to let you go. As we breathe deep of fire and roses and the song leaps unbidden to our lips we look to each other as blue meets brown and wonder – how did it come to this? This fire, is it enough?
Soon will come the moment when we’re standing upon the beach and gazing off into the west. Do you see the pinks and purples and oranges of the sky and wonder what they all mean? Is there a deeper significance to this beauty or is it just some grand coincidence? I laugh and squeeze your hand a little tighter and you turn to me and radiantly smile. There is more to this than the world that was promised. For truly this world is not enough. I know I tell you, I know. But surely we can bring a little meaning into the world if we in our hearts summon deep the joy and pains we have written thus far. But are we the originators of this meaning or are we merely echoing a long told tale? Echoes and symmetry I sigh. I know, I know. Just as this sunset plucks a chord in our hearts and we tremble knowing that we are made for more. Do you hear the music now you ask me. I do I reply. Oh surely I do. But still something is missing. Or someone.
These rhymes that fill my mind have not stopped. My love do you remember that day we walked in that wood? I do of course. That was the day my heart began to quicken as I began to believe there was more to this world than our eyes could see. But do you remember that grey twilight upon which we sat at that fire and burned bouquets of roses as we told each other our hopes and dreams? I can only reply you know I do. That was the day I knew we were on a road that we could not leave. Then you know that we only wait one thing. Our lives have spiraled around the core of truth that can be no other than what is now before us as we see the sun set before our eyes. Where is the one that was promised? We have been given much but still where is the well-laden table, where is the bread and wine? We are missing the one that was promised, the one that takes away the sin of the world. But remember you say your eyes now beginning to glow with inner fire, that one is provided by the one for whom our soul longs. In fact, you say now in a hushed and reverent manner, that one is come into the world and provided himself for himself for us that might dwell with him in the most full and rich communion that could ever be imagined in this world. Imagine that. Behold the lamb.
I take up the vision and fiercely pen all these things my mind have seen. In the darkening of the night, I feel your hand tighten upon my shoulder as we gaze up at the falling stars. And as light flashes from east to west, I whisper to you do you remember what joy is ours as we look forward to taking cups and toasting at that table? Oh my heart quivers. These words now ring in my head as I prepare myself for the consummation of all that’s been written. We now stand in purple twilight and gaze up at the fires of angels as we prepare to dine in heaven. The echoes of that long ago forest walk come back to me and I whisper what I heard him say and my heart rejoices that he is now near at hand
I will drape my cloak over you
I will ever draw you with my hand
I will call you by the music of my voice
I will surely bring you to my promised land
You and I stand together under the banner of redeeming love. We have no qualms about what is written for now united in sweet union are the songs of faith and hope as they look upon what descends from above. I should not say what, but who. And you know of whom I speak. His name is upon my lips as we hold hands tight and prepare for eternity where the songs will never stop and there will be no more echo for the source shall be before us in perfection of beauty and glory – that one robed in infinity and yet marked still by the suffering that he bore for those he descended to save, that in the fullness of his divinity and might still he stoops down that we might know his name. And now we tremble as we stand before him in a way and place I cannot describe for my thoughts flee far above and far beyond and before him we stand and I see his face.
Witness
What does it mean to walk down the path when one knows not the middle but has faith in where it ends? Sometimes it simply means the slow and simple approach of taking that next step and planting your foot firmly upon the path and avoiding the temptation to look behind. That is good to remember and easy to exhort one to but considerably harder to remember in the moment when everything seems opposed to you. True? So as I trudge around the sputtering volcano and feel on my skin the warm brush of ash, I know that it is folly to attempt to turn back now and that path off to the side must be avoided at all costs. For truly where I come from is the halls of darkness and so instead now I lift my eyes to the skies and continue to bear this cross. It is not a fraction as heavy as the one the one before me bore. Remember that, my friend. So I whisper prayers I’ve said so many times before and softly aloud chant these promises that were written that I might delight in them. Heed the word written and look up to the promised word that stooped and wrote in the dust for you. And now though the fog settles and my feet are shrouded from my eyes I smile for I tell myself the stories of the coming glories that shall be written in the skies. Courage, dear heart.
Sidewalk Dreams
For indeed while we are in this tent, we groan, being burdened,
because we do not want to be unclothed but to be clothed,
so that what is mortal will be swallowed up by life.
Now He who prepared us for this very purpose is God,
who gave to us the Spirit as a pledge.
Therefore, being always of good courage, and knowing
that while we are at home in the body we are absent from the Lord
-for we walk by faith, not by sight –
we are of good courage, I say,
and prefer rather to be absent from the body
and to be at home with the Lord.
Therefore we also have as our ambition,
whether at home or absent,
to be pleasing to Him.
For we must all appear before the judgement seat of Christ,
so that each one may be recompensed for his deeds in the body,
according to what he has done, whether good or bad.
-2 Corinthians 5:4-10
Prickly Pear
Her head whirls with all that has been revealed and she feels as if perhaps
the books weren’t exactly correct in how they informed her dreams
but now she steps up the tree-lined path
and her feet start to drag as her heart
begins to tremble
for now she comes to the crux of it
indeed now in the fullness of time
that moment that has been just so defined
and her mouth dry she steps through the doorway
and click clack click clack her shoes strike the floor
until she reaches the spot that she never thought she’d see
and she can’t even kneel but instead falls to her face
and beneath the empty cross she cries out for grace
now her heart settles and despite her tears she breathes
what is this strange mystery
this God who died for me
One and Five
This lovely damp grey Saturday, let’s post a few thoughts on my latest reads shall we??
52. Anne of Avonlea by L.M. Montgomery. A lovely book. My reading of Anne continues with the second book in the series and while I’ll bluntly state that it’s not quite as good as the first book, this is still a beautiful read. I could find little spots here and there to poke at, but there are also some truly lovely moments and lines. I love reading books such as this, ones that are simple and sweet and make me smile with delight at the beauty contained therein. I will note that this is the book where Montgomery apparently falls in love with the use of the ellipsis and I laughed to see how often she utilizes such. Also, I believe that in this book her powers of description soar even higher than the first book. I could read this book for the descriptions of nature alone. One of my favourite chapters was the one where Anne and her friends wander the countryside and have a beautiful day together conversing and laughing and tramping through the woods – a chapter only Montgomery could write with such simple elegance and joy.
53. Bearing Witness – What the Church Can Learn from Early Abolitionists by Daniel Lee Hill. A powerful and insightful work. This is a book I was not sure how to approach at first, wondering how Hill’s engagement with early Christian abolitionists would serve to craft a call to action for the church today – are we as the Christian church to attempt to live out a social gospel in denigration of the work of Christ for us or ought we spend our time in a Christian bunker priding ourselves on our own fidelity and adherence to the orthodox faith? Hill masterfully addresses both these ditches while providing a pattern and ethos for how the church might truly bear witness to the gospel of Jesus Christ in this modern world in which we live. I much appreciate the author’s dedication to centering the work of Christ and refusing to downplay the true gospel while at the same time pleading with the church to understand what it means to bear the burdens of both our fellow Christian and our fellow man as we live in this world in this present age, yes aware of its fallenness and looking forward in hope to the coming redemption and renewal of this world when Christ returns, but also keeping our eyes open and seeking to understand the mission of Christ on this world so that we might model such and in the moments that pop up around us, improvise on the themes of mercy and grace and suffering that we see running throughout all of Scripture and indeed, those themes that our very soul resonates with as we are sealed and enlivened by the Spirit of God.
I fear this somewhat rambling first paragraph may not do the force of Hill’s argument justice. I have not even begun to express my appreciation for how the author works through the narrative of slavery and the abolitionary movement in the early history of the States. There is so much history and so many stories that could be told, but I feel the author does a very fair job of attempting to lay the groundwork for the story tellers he is about to unveil. I love that Hill recognizes that the three fiery and faithful Christians he highlights in this book – David Ruggles, Maria W. Stewart, & William Still – are Christian voices that can still speak to us today, as they are indeed a part of the living and enduring church of Christ. So in retrieving their voices from the past, Hill lets us be part of the audience that hears these brothers and sisters speak and thus we can seek to understand what wisdom might they have that we can then ponder in our hearts and be blessed by such. I loved understanding the stories of these three historic figures – nay, not just historic figures – actual real people and brothers and sisters in Christ! – and hearing how they navigated the fraught waters of early 19th-century America, a place where it was not at all easy or safe to be a black person, enslaved or free. Hill seeks to show that even though it may not have been easy or safe, these three still sought to work in and cultivate the spaces they inhabited and to faithfully go forth to bear witness to the gospel of Christ in working and suffering alongside their fellow man. The historical facts of their lives were fascinating but even more so, the force and light of their testimony was humbling. Are we living such lives of witness in the places in which we live and move and have our being, understanding that we all live under the gracious and merciful hand of God?
And that brings us to the author’s conclusion, where he seeks to extract the nuggets of wisdom from the testimonies and stories we’ve been listening to and ask how the church might respond. Will the church’s response to our own modern horrors and nightmares look identical to how Ruggles, Stewart and Still acted? Perhaps not, for society is structured differently and we may not have the same mediums of communication or fellowship as were present in early 19th-century America. Still yet. Do we see in their actions a framework for how the church might keep its eyes open to the opportunities are around us? Even as we center our lives around the gospel of Christ and remember our call to proclaim such boldly, does not the presence of the church in this world and its calling to suffer as Christ has suffered indicate an allotted portion of stepping alongside our fellow and seeking to bear one another’s burdens and mourning with those who mourn as we recognize the patterns of decay even in the structures of our everyday? And we ought be so washed and enlivened in the Spirit that our thoughts ever more often resonate with the commands of Christ to love one another and so our patterns of behavior will then meet the moments that we encounter so that we truly exhibit the love of Christ.
I am writing too many words, but I am grateful for this book. It is written at a fairly high academic level and though I enjoy such, it may not be for all. Still, I found it profitable. Some may not like that this book is not more “practical” or does not put forth any sort of concrete action plan. But I would argue that is not this author’s aim. Instead the author is attempting to set forth a paradigm for the church that will of necessity lead to a multiplicity of responses. There is not and cannot be a cookie-cutter approach to living Christ-like lives in this fallen world in which we live. Also in this book there are moments of dry humor that I greatly appreciated, but more than that, I very much was struck by the awe and reverence the author has for our God and for His Word and for the holy calling that is upon all of us to follow Christ. While we are yet on this world, we groan as we recognize that it is not our home and that while we are absent from our Lord, we are incomplete. We now inhabit the temporal but we look for the eternal, for that city that will one day be our home where we shall see our Lord face to face. We long for the day when our Lord will return and make all things new and wipe away every tear. And so in the now, we with hope look for what is to come and bear witness to the God who is our hope. Might we cry out to God that he might give us eyes to see and the grace to live in such a way that this witness is one that to the world makes it clear that God has not abandoned this world and that we are not alone.
Discovery
She tripped down the path deeper into the leafy gorge. Where did it go she didn’t know but wasn’t that half the fun? The sunflowers soared high above her head here at the top of the path but as she descended she noticed the light wasn’t able to make its way quite as easily to the rocky path. Still though there was enough light to see by, a kind of golden green light that is only present in places such as this where sunlight is filtered down by the kind beneficence of the still green leaves of late summer. The girl looked up at the patches of blue above her head and smiled. She couldn’t feel the sun on her skin anymore and that was counted as a minor relief as these things go. The hike to this gorge had been a long one and through a vale where few trees stood. The midday sun had beat down upon her and though she had enough water for the journey, it had not been an easy walk in this sub-tropical clime. And so now in this little side excursion? She counted it a blessing to feel the delights of shade. But this path – where did it lead? Clearly it had been walked before though perhaps not for a fortnight or two. Little creepers stretched across the path in places and weeds were starting to grow high for true. Yet this path was placed here it seemed of purpose and the rocks were not natural to this place. Who had come here before her? And where were their past ghosts leading her to? A place of rest assuredly, but would it be more akin to a graveyard or a pleasant grove? She hoped the latter, though surely graveyards were not a bad place to wander through now and then. Still though she had a vision of a bower where perhaps someone had placed a thoughtful few rocks to perch. She had a book in her backpack she’d been saving for just such. But as she descended the path in its mild dancing fashion she noted now a new scent rose to her nose. Her skin tingled as she imagined a garden of wild roses, however improbably that seemed. But hark now what was that. There was a trickle of smoke before her, perhaps as from a cookfire. Had someone else come before her to claim the graces of this sacred place? How dared they? She had been oh so eager for a quiet place to walk and think and pray. And now around the bend her slowing steps brought her and there afore her she saw a face. The last she had expected to see though it was the face that burned glory in her dreams. What is this madness? That last rose to her lips and she blushed to hear her voice. Then her shame fled and along with it her fear and she felt the calm that came with being known. Oh dear child welcome. Sit down with me and let’s feast together as we talk of many things. The girl felt tears run down her cheeks but it was not for sadness that she wept. She walked forward to where the man sat by the fire and she looked in wonder all around. There was a bower true and a little stream and then of course the fire over which a fowl roasted. And a loaf of bread sliced and ready for toasting and even yes, a bottle of wine which seemed as if it was meant for sharing. She looked in awe again at the face of the one who had spoken and said my lord i came seeking but didn’t know i’d find you. And he said surely those who seek find and to those who ask will it be given. Sit at my feet and learn from me and lay down your burden and rest. And so it was in that gorge that day whereupon that girl learned what it meant to discover the pearl of great price. And so it was and so it ever shall be and so someday shall our joy be made full when we upon that same face gaze.
Fever Dreams
Some book thoughts.
51. Anne of Green Gables by L.M. Montgomery. Such a lovely, sweet book and surely one of my favourite books to read if I simply want to read something beautiful. I think this book will always have a special place in my heart. I wish there were more books like this in the world, ones that point to the good and right and true while still recognizing the tinge of melancholy that is not entirely absent from even the sweetest climes. Oh I love this book! I do recognize part of my love for it is partly nostalgia – yes, I can still hear the dialogue from the old 1934 black and white movie – but still yet I cannot deny how much joy this book brings to my heart. I also want to state that this book is absolutely hilarious and I may or may not have laughed out loud several times as I was reading. This book is a treasure and a sheer delight.
Dialogue Part Two
Consider my friend, consider the truths upon which my feet are planted. I smiled and said to her that’s a pretty bold opening line. And she tilted her head and looked into my eyes and said I know but it’s because I care for you. And not in a melodramatic sappy way or the way in which you might write poetry and ask me to be your valentine. I care for your eternal soul and so of course I’m going to be dramatic yet no less than true. I come to tell you about the truth in which I believe and have my whole life bound up with because I want you to know this same truth too. But ok I answered I know you’re a Christian and I understand that you have these beliefs in the God who you said saved your soul. But even so it’s just a religion for all that and though I’m glad for you what does this have to do with me? When I’m a person who is just as – or nearly – as good as you and I think deserve a good life too. See that’s the problem she whispered now, her eyes glittering in predestined passion. What do we deserve when all is said and done? What do we deserve when our lives go down with setting sun and smile turns to frown as our bodies morph to dust and ash and our souls cry aloud? Why don’t say hell or any such ridiculous fundamental scare tactic I rolled my eyes as I sounded this rather impressive rhetorical line upon her. You land before me upon the shore she says yes you preempt my lines. All I’m trying to say is that I believe in a God divine a God who made us and who when all is said and done owns us for it is for him for who our lives were devised. And how have we answered him at the end of all things? We spit in his face and say our lives are ours and we shall surely keep them. And he says of course and grants us our way and so we toss the chain more firmly over our own shoulders and we self satisfied proceed on as slaves ending up where we’ve said we most want to be. We end up alone and on our own and apart from God forever. For we have declared we want no part of our Maker. And we end up exactly where we deserve – parted from God forever. Is that what you want? Well maybe I reply a bit abashed at the fervor of her answer. But is this what Christianity is? A bully God bullying me to want to be with Him like some psycho girlfriend? Why would I want to be with a sadistic all powerful being that can’t even condescend to just understand where I’m coming from and treat with me on my level? Wow ok. She almost laughed but instead eyes wide replied. There’s some really profound questions there and I begin to think God is working in you even now drawing you closer to him. How do I answer? Well perhaps consider if there is a God – what do you know about him? Instead of assuming him a monster, what if you think of Him as the pinnacle of infinity and the bearer of attributes that proclaim him more perfect and beautiful than your mind can dare to grasp? And what if he knows that’s what’s best for you is to be in relationship with this God and to be his child? Perhaps he knows there is nothing better than to know and be known by God. And so of course he asks you to come. And perhaps consider that in his desire to call us all to him he knows that we cannot in our weakness and frailty consider the immensity of God and so instead he does condescend to us and does treat us on our level and in fact God steps down and makes himself as one of us to show his love? And in this love he asks that you simply come to him and acknowledge who he is and acknowledge who you are and in this knowledge of yourself and reaching knowledge of who he is you bow before his divine majesty and say i’m not enough. You are. For who is this one who condescends? You know who I’m about to say. Yes I know I answer finally, my cheeks flushed a bit as my world starts to shake between the still settling eternal aftershocks. You’re going to say Jesus. Are you not? And she nods and bites her lip and says yes. Jesus. He is the Son of God and God Himself and is the one who came to condescend and offer to you his hand. But first he hung on a cross and was pierced and bled and died and then yes as you’ve heard – he rose again! The Lord of glory walked this earth as man and did it so that you might know God true. And if you bow and kneel and say Lord forgive me, I’m a sinner and I believe in you then life life everlasting is yours and not life apart but life with God for true. Come my friend. Come to know the truth. For what is truth? Jesus Christ the Lord God made flesh the one who died for you.
Rhymes in Red
I walked up to the solitary tree and lifted my hand up high. Even with all my effort, my fingers came a little shy of the apple that I craved. Yet what did I answer back when my friend asked me if I was giving up? Not yet I shouted. Not yet! Instead I stretched my toes and wavered higher and bit my lip as I focused my eyes on the prize. Yet with all that I was barely closer. Perhaps two inches, perhaps a foot. I’m really not that good at judging distances I said. And there we come to my problem, my greedy eyes and my foolish pride and that auburn fruit that taunted me that I would not give up for all the world though its riches offered. So I leaped again and still yet I seemed no nearer. What is this madness I muttered to myself. And my friend she offered a hint less than helpful. Something like try harder although possibly in language more of poetry than prose. And I laughed and told her that she might have a go herself if she thought she’d do better. She walked over and gave me a quick hug and then glared at the apple with all the fierceness her brown eyes could muster. And what do you know but that the apple quailed before her and with barely a whisper of a breeze the bough dipped and bounced once and twice and the third time her hand closed upon it and pulled firmly. In astonishment I looked at the fruit within her hand. What devilry is this I whispered. Nothing to do with devils she smiled. More of angels I should say. But how? I tried and tried and tried. I gave it all my effort! And there you go she said her eyebrow quirking in that amused fashion she has. With this tree your effort will avail you not. Instead you must simply look and plead. And see? She lifted up the apple to her lips and took a bite. This fruit tastes good. It tastes old and new all at once as if it was the fruit all other fruit wishes it could be. It’s the original model and yet untainted. Taste and see.
Something Weird 