an ending

For those few of you who regularly stop by this blog it must seem to you that I’m neglecting my writing.  Actually I think this particular blog may be ending.  From the beginning – last January – the writing came from within … a sense of urgency, direction … and the blog took on a life of its own – a bit of a connection between mostly classic poetry, scripture, and thoughts about my spiritual journey at the time.  While it was not always easy to make the connections or find just the right words, it was a joyful process.  The urgency is gone.

I still want to write … but what to write about … hmmm … just not sure.  I’m waiting for direction … inspiration, if you will.

Maybe we will meet again soon!

repining restlessness

Tonight as we worshiped, we sang a chorus about being set free .. if the Son has set you free, you are free indeed.  We prayed for ourselves, for others, to be set free in Jesus.  There is both the celebration of freedom in Christ, and at the same time the yearning for freedom.  It’s a conundrum.  We know we are free and in many ways we experience the freedom.  At the same time, we experience the same kinds of longing, looking forward to complete redemption … a new heaven and earth … a new body … eternity …

George Herbert captures well the restlessness, weariness that drives us to our knees, to the heart of God … to experience that freedom in its fullness.
WHEN God at first made man,
Having a glasse of blessings standing by ;
Let us (said he) poure on him all we can :
Let the worlds riches, which dispersed lie,
Contract into a span.

So strength first made a way ;
Then beautie flow’d, then wisdome, honour, pleasure :
When almost all was out, God made a stay,
Perceiving that alone, of all his treasure,
Rest in the bottome lay.

For if I should (said he)
Bestow this jewell also on my creature,
He would adore my gifts in stead of me,
And rest in Nature, not the God of Nature :
So both should losers be.

Yet let him keep the rest,
But keep them with repining restlesnesse :
Let him be rich and wearie, that at least,
If goodnesse leade him not, yet wearinesse
May tosse him to my breast.

all the forests in this world

We worshiped outside today … went down to the river to pray, sing, proclaim the word … and to baptize a young sister in Christ.  This is an annual event for our fellowship of believers … and it is such a joy in so many ways.  I love the singing of “Down to the River to Pray” …

O brothers let’s go down,
Let’s go down, come on down,
Come on brothers let’s go down,
Down in the river to pray.

St. Catherine of Siena wrote …

THE SANCTUARY

It could be said that God’s foot is so vast
That this entire earth is but a
field on His
toe,

and all the forests in this world
came from the same root of just
a single hair
of His.

What then is not a sanctuary?
Where can I not kneel
and pray at a shrine
made holy by His
presence?

We celebrated our being baptized in Christ today in the great outdoors … God’s creation is such a gorgeous sanctuary!

dancing … if you lead

Tonight I read poems from the ancient Christian mystics … beautiful words.  These caught my eye tonight … as I thought about the sovereignty of God … he is in control … there is a great peace in that thought.

The first from St. Hildegard … Song to the Creator:

You, all-accomplishing
Word of the Father
are the light of primordial
daybreak over the spheres.
You, the foreknowing
mind of divinity,
foresaw all your works
as you willed them,
your prescience hidden
in the heart of your power,
your power like a wheel around the world,
whose circling never began
and never slides to an end.

And then from Mechthild of Magdeburg …

GOD SPEAKS TO THE SOUL

And God said to the soul:
I desired you before the world began.
I desire you now
As you desire me.
And where the desires of two come together
There love is perfected

HOW THE SOUL SPEAKS TO THE SOUL

Lord, you are my lover,
My longing,
My flowing stream,
My sun,
And I am your reflection.

HOW GOD ANSWERS THE SOUL

It is my nature that makes me love you often,
For I am love itself.
It is my longin that makes me love you intensely,
For I yearn to be loved from the heart.
It is my eternity that makes me love you long,
For I have no end.

And this one as well … I love the idea of dancing as the Lord leads …

I cannot dance, Lord, unless you lead me.
If you want me to leap with abandon,
You must intone the song.
Then I shall leap into love,
From love into knowledge,
From knowledge into enjoyment,
And from enjoyment beyond all human sensations.
There I want to remain, yet want also to circle higher still.
~ Mechthild

conspiring with the sun

This morning as I ate breakfast, I noticed a few leaves falling outside my window.  I was reminded that someone prayed last Sunday for our congregation – we represent various seasons of life … childhood, youth, young adulthood, middle age, seniors … and I thought a bit about my current season of life.

As I sipped an iced coffee with a friend we talked about this current season – it’s challenges, what we have accomplished (or haven’t accomplished) and how to finish well.   What do we value … for what are we striving?   It was a bit uncomfortable … because we don’t want to be found grasping, clutching the insignificant things in our lives … instead we want to be found stretching out towards the celebrated finish line …

Luke quoted Paul in Acts: “However, I consider my life worth nothing to me, if only I may finish the race and complete the task the Lord Jesus has given me—the task of testifying to the gospel of God’s grace.” Paul writes about himself in his letters to Timothy, “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. Now there is in store for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will award to me on that day—and not only to me, but also to all who have longed for his appearing.”

Keats writes about Autumn …

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run;
To bend with apples the moss’d cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For summer has o’er-brimm’d their clammy cells.

There is something about that line … conspiring with the sun to bless the vines … I see in that phrase Paul’s emphasis on running the race well.

I want to conspire with the Son to be a blessing … where he has planted me …

fear to miss the road

Sunday, our pastor preached on the text from John 14:1-14 … Jesus said, “I am the way and the truth and the life.  No one comes to the Father except through me.”   He reminded us that no one looks for the lack of truth for the basis of life … we all choose our world view on what we believe to be true.

After the service our discipleship group met … and our facilitator asked this question … have you ever “missed Jesus?” After all if he is the way, the truth, the life … we might not want to “miss” him.

It dawned on me in that moment that each time I let fear or worry have a foothold in my life, I miss Jesus … if I am “faith-ing” in each moment, fear and worry will have no place in me.

What _could_ I do, O blessed Guide and Master,
Other than this;
Still to go on as now, not slower, faster,
Nor fear to miss
The road, although so very long it be,
While led by thee?
Step after step, feeling thee close beside me,
Although unseen,
Through thorns, through flowers, whether the tempest hide thee,
Or heavens serene,
Assured thy faithfulness cannot betray,
Thy love decay.
~ Sarah Woosley

The scripture says … I died, and my life is now hidden with Christ in God. Christ is my life …Christ in me, my hope of glory! He is the way, the truth, the life … “missing” him is just not necessary!

to the dentist!

I have a toothache … been a long time since I had one … not fun at all!  And it means I have to go to the dentist … one of my least favorite things to do!

There is a really cute poem … but I don’t want the dentist to use these pliers in my mouth!  If the dentist laughs, “ho ho ho,” tomorrow … ouch … watch out!

The Crocodile went to the dentist,
And sat down in the chair,
And the dentist said, “Now tell me, sir,
Why does it hurt and where?”
And the Crocodile said, “I’ll tell you the truth,
I have a terrible ache in my tooth,”
And he opened his jaws so wide, so wide,
That the dentist, he climbed right inside,
And the dentist laughed, “Oh isn’t this fun?”
As he pulled the teeth out, one by one.
And the Crocodile cried, “You’re hurting me so!
Please put down your pliers and let me go.”
But the dentist just laughed with a Ho Ho Ho,
And he said, “I still have twelve to go–
Oops, that’s the wrong one, I confess,
But what’s one crocodile’s tooth, more or less?”
Then suddenly, the jaws went SNAP,
And the dentist was gone, right off the map,
And where he went one could only guess…
To North or South or East or West…
He left no forwarding address.
But what’s one dentist, more or less?
~ Shel Silverstein

lazy Saturday

I needed this day!

Lazy Saturday Haiku Verses

Leaves humming, dancing
Breeze refreshingly playful
Perfect Saturday!

Eyes drooping, snoozing
Unwinding, the weekend rest
Steeping, peace sublime

That one thought knocking
Seemingly lost, locked behind
To do lists and cares

Creative flow locked
Stymied, but persistently
Trying to burst free

Inhale, exhale, slow
Shoulders down, release the mind
Ideas fall free

Freely falling thoughts
Creator – seize, purify
Use for your Glory!

Whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God.

aye to save!

I read this quote today … “The God Christians worship loves sinners, redeems failures, delights in second chances and fresh starts, and never tires of pursuing lost sheep, waiting for prodigal children, or rescuing those damaged by life and left on the sides of its paths.” ~ David Benner

O fire of God, the Comforter, O life of all that live,
Holy art thou to quicken us, and holy, strength to give:
To heal the broken-hearted ones, their sorest wounds to bind,
O Spirit of all holiness, O Lover of mankind!
O sweetest taste within the breast, O grace upon us poured,
That saintly hearts may give again their perfume to the Lord.
O purest fountain! we can see, clear mirrored in thy streams,
That God brings home the wanderers, that God the lost redeems.
O breastplate strong to guard our life, O bond of unity,
O dwelling-place of righteousness, save all who trust in thee:
Defend those who in dungeon dark are prisoned by the foe,
And, for thy will is aye to save, let thou the captives go.
O surest way, that through the height and through the lowest deep
And through the earth dost pass, and all in firmest union keep;
From thee the clouds and ether move, from thee the moisture flows,
From thee the waters draw their rills, and earth with verdure glows,
And thou dost ever teach the wise, and freely on them pour
The inspiration of thy gifts, the gladness of thy lore.
All praise to thee, O joy of life, O hope and strength, we raise,
Who givest us the prize of light, who art thyself all praise.
~ST. HILDEGARDE

the mountains yet shall be

I’ve been reading poetry about faith lately … in each poem the same theme resounds … challenges in our lives are what shapes our faith.

While the seaside is my most favorite retreat … the second would be a visit to the hillside.  So when I ran across this poem I could agree with the writer … mountains haunt of beauty!

And then note … God’s plowing … his furrowing … our faith comes from the plowing … with the plowing comes those mountaintop experiences.

God ploughed one day with an earthquake,
And drove his furrows deep!
The huddling plains upstarted
The hills were all a-leap!

But that is the mountains’ secret,
Age-hidden in their breast;
“God’s peace is everlasting,”
Are the dream-words of their rest.

He hath made them the haunt of beauty,
The home elect of his grace;
He spreadeth his mornings on them,
His sunsets light their face.

His thunders tread in music
Of footfalls echoing long,
And carry majestic greeting
Around the silent throng.

His winds bring messages to them,
Wild storm-news from the main;
They sing it down to the valleys
In the love-song of the rain.

Green tribes from far come trooping,
And over the uplands flock;
He weaveth the zones together
In robes for his risen rock.

They are nurseries for young rivers;
Nests for his flying cloud;
Homesteads for new-born races,
Masterful, free, and proud.

The people of tired cities
Come up to their shrines and pray;
God freshens again within them,
As he passes by all day.

And lo, I have caught their secret,
The beauty deeper than all.
This faith–that life’s hard moments,
When the jarring sorrows befall,

Are but God ploughing his mountains;
And the mountains yet shall be
The source of his grace and freshness
And his peace everlasting to me.
~ W. C. Gannett