Gadfly's Muse

Quality... and the "Art of ..... "

[Image:Texas2010_01, 2010 JAVanDevender]

Then the LORD spoke to Moses, saying: “See, I have called by name Bezalel the son of Uri, the son of Hur, of the tribe of Judah. And I have filled him with the Spirit of God, in wisdom, in understanding, in knowledge, and in all manner of workmanship, to design artistic works, to work in gold, in silver, in bronze, in cutting jewels for setting, in carving wood, and to work in all manner of workmanship.
(Ex 31:1–5).

Another experiment in converting images to graphics.  This one doesn't bear real close inspection but I thought I would show it anyway.  Someone might help me with the actual name of the flower, I was erroneously told that it was a form of "Angel Trumpet" but I don't think so.  It was taken in the middle of a Texas meadow filled with Blue Bonnets and Indian Paint flowers and so the background was very distracting.  Hence the graphic attempt.

I have always admired those whom God has given the grace of "wisdom, ...understanding... and knowledge in all manner of workmanship."  Try ever so hard as I might I simply find it difficult to rise above the "adequate" level in things like playing the guitar, woodworking, photography, etc.    Some of it has to do with time... to achieve that level wherein something magic happens and that certain thrill of execution, or sensory appreciation rises out of the effort, takes an awful lot of practice and discipline.  I remember reading once that all throughout his life, until his disease stripped him of his motor skills,  Chet Atkins practiced his guitar eight hours a day, virtually every day.  I do not know if that is true and it may very well be an overstatement but I wouldn't doubt it.  However, the fact remains, that one can improve one's basic talent but talent has to be there.  Otherwise, no matter how diligent, the magic doesn't happen.

It is, as is always the case, of course, all part of God's plans.  He graces His people with different forms of knowledge.  Some of us major in plodding down the road... some of us achieve brilliance in narrow, specific pathways... very few of us, ala Da Vinci, have genius across the board.  

But, interestingly, (and here I remember Pirsig's "Art of Motorcycle Maintenance") God has graced each of His people with the ability to desire and pursue "quality" in their life.  Some of us have to be the ones who appreciate the work of those who are masters.  There must be an audience for the musician to thrill.  There must be someone sensitive to the nuances of color and technique that the master artist demonstrates on his canvas.  Someone has to recognize genius wherever God has given it.  And this is within our grasp... for all it takes is to recognize "goodness" in the things God has given us to appreciate.

The Master Craftsman Himself pronounced things "very good" when He (They) had completed the work of Creation.  Being in the image of God means that appreciating "quality" wherever it is displayed is to be both our joy and our obligation.  God has given us each gifts... and He expects those gifts to be recognized, appreciated and honored... both by those to whom each was given and by those whose lives are measurably impoved by their use.

If imitation is the highest form of flattery... then plugging away at things that require talent, even when you don't have a great deal of it... is one way we can grow to more fully appreciate it when we encounter it.  What all of us can be, are "Master Appreciators."  And just maybe, somewhere in eternity, God will bring forth beautiful music (art, woodworking, etc.) from those who aspired to it in the flesh, when "quality" was elusive.

So, attempt something beautiful today!  What can you lose?  

 

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[Welcoming The Morning, 2010, JAVanDevender]

 Song of Solomon 2:11–12 (NKJV)

¹¹ For lo, the winter is past,The rain is over and gone.

¹² The flowers appear on the earth;The time of singing has come,

And the voice of the turtledove Is heard in our land.  

A very temporary unseasonable warm spell has brought a welcome respite from the bitter cold of a few days past (especially since the heat in my office is not yet repaired).  It's enough to make a person begin to think about Spring anyway.  

Soon the earth will be sprouting forth little buds of color and the cherry trees will follow shortly thereafter with their cotton candy gorgeousness.  Winter has its own charms but Spring is always welcome.

It is interesting to me that flowers are mainly spoken of in Scripture in reference to their passing beauty rather than in aesthetic appreciation.  Other than the mention of various buds and blossoms in ornamentation for the Temple and its implements, I think this verse from the Song of Solomon is the only one that doesn't emphasize the "fading" or "temporal" nature of their budding.  Even here the "beloved" speaks of its occurrence in terms of it being the right "time", the time for he and his "fair one" to be away, to proceed to their chamber, to delight in each other and to celebrate their union.  Flowers invite thoughts of love... yes now, as it has always been, and perhaps always will be.

The Song of Solomon intrigues and baffles the expositor.  It is blatantly directed toward human love (marriage?) between man and woman.  It has been interpreted metaphorically for thousands of years and there is good reason to do so, though I do not believe that every verse can or should be so handled.  But there is no doubt (Ephesians 5) that God does intend the marriage relation itself to be understood metaphorically (or "typically" if one prefers).  So, I think that I am not far off if I think of the bursting forth of flowers as the earth's response to the warming rays of the Springtime Sun as pointing us toward how creation, and we in particular, are to blossom and flourish in the love of God as expressed in Jesus Christ.

Think of the "power" that is in the Sun's beams in the Spring.  Think of it in its transforming reality.  Think of how a bulb or a seed senses that warmth as it reaches through the melting earth and touches them.  Think of how dormancy, potential, becomes reality and begins to vigorously respond.  This is the "power" of God's love.  It does not just make us feel good... sometimes that is actually just the opposite of what happens though the norm is very positive.  No, it is not to the end of just making us "feel good' but that we grow, and blossom and flourish.  That is God's love.  It is a transforming grace and it always results in change.  God is no more content to love us just as we are than He is to love a flower bulb and leave it unchanged in the ground.  God loves us in order to change us and make us beautiful... not only in His sight but in the sight of all the powers and principalities in the heavenly places as well as in the eyes of men, at least those with eyes to see.  God's love is His grace and the fullest manifestation of His love and grace is in the Person of Christ.  Here is love, not that we first loved Him, but that He loved us and sent His Son into the world as a propitiation for our sin.

Yes there is winter... and yes there is Spring... and Spring is the time of love and the time of flowers and it is the time to reach out to God and embrace the love that He has for us in Christ Jesus.

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"This Old House..... "

"This Old House..... "

[Image: A Shell of Its Former Self, JAVanDevender, 2010]

 

Hebrews 3:4–6 (NKJV)

⁴ For every house is built by someone, but He who built all things is God. ⁵ And Moses indeed was faithful in all His house as a servant, for a testimony of those things which would be spoken afterward, ⁶ but Christ as a Son over His own house, whose house we are if we hold fast the confidence and the rejoicing of the hope firm to the end.

 

I confess that I have a kind of weird fascination with old, abandoned houses.  Back in my motorcycling days if I was out on a solo jaunt, gliding through the curvy back roads of the country side, and I came across one that was particularly interesting, I would stop and just think about it... about the family or families that lived there, how they might have lived in their unique circumstances and what stories those walls could tell.  Old abandoned houses are like old, heavily used books... the covers are all tatters, some of the pages are missing, there are undecipherable scribbled lines in the margins, and the ink has long since faded to the point that reading it is virtually impossible.  But, like that old book, each old house had its story and there is a certain loneliness that surrounds it.

There was (and is) an old Southern Gospel song called "This Old House..."  When I was growing up I loved listening to it because it was just fun.  "Ain't gonna need this house no longer, ain't gonna need this house no more ... " [Listen to it HERE, the Cathedrals did it best...]  That song always, always comes to mind when I see these old shells.  It's not a giant leap to ponder how each of our lives is like those old houses.  We each show the signs of weathered storms, we each have our walls seasoned by times of joy that just settle into the plaster and give it a certain warm sheen, and of course there is the accumulated creaks and groans that accompany extended age, whether in a house or in the joints of our limbs.  Pondering old houses inevitably reminds us of mortality and the bitter-sweet sadness of forgotten stories.  But there is another side to it.

There is also, in each of these old houses, a potential.  They could be repaired... they could be restored... they could be given new windows and doors and in a sense, resurrected.  They could have fresh life poured into them and the renewed joy of children squealing, the barely contained chaos of extended family gatherings, and the solemn sweetness of married love again constituting their new life.  Further more, the old never really goes away.  The old walls would add a backward dimension to the life that would be lived in it, a sense of continuity with what went before.  The 'new' house would not be entirely new, but rather 'renewed' and all its original charm could be kept while all the defects of its first "life" removed.  It could happen... with each and every one... though the cost would be very great.

How warm it makes my heart to think this.  For these old shells of physical bodies will one day, if the Lord tarries, be like those old houses... without windows, without walls, with the spirit of life departed.  But, an incredibly high price has been paid for us and that old house, our old house, will be rebuilt and renewed and new life will inhabit it eternally.  For we are God's house, through Jesus Christ, and He will not leave us in ruins forever.

 

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Easy Living? '... difficult is the way....'

[Image: Steps, JAVanDevender, 2010]

 

Matthew 7:13–14 (NKJV)

¹³ “Enter by the narrow gate; for wide is the gate and broad is the way that leads to destruction, and there are many who go in by it. ¹⁴ Because narrow is the gate and difficult is the way which leads to life, and there are few who find it.

 

It was not a "dark and stormy night" but not much more could be said for it.

Harper's Ferry, WVa. was kind of "hunkered down" under the cold and damp.  The sky hung sullenly over head and cast a flat, grey, mournful tone across an otherwise charming little town.  All the contrast and brightness were sucked out of the colors.  But the juxtaposition of steps the converging lines of the side-walls and sidewalk, and the cross wise lines of the levels, caught my eye and so I photographed it anyway.  Obviously the resulting photo has been heavily manipulated to give it a "graphic image" quality.

What exactly was it that drew me to this scene?  I think it was the mental picture of folks, centuries ago, climbing up those torturous steps, slipping on the icy paving stones, hanging on to each other and to the side rails to keep from falling, shivering against the freezing wind just so they could gather for worship.  

Why did they do it?  Why did the aged painfully exercise their arthritic knees and risk serious harm to spend a couple of hours (?) in that beautiful old church?  Why? .... because it was worth it.

Too often, in our self-indulgent age, religion and Christianity in particular, has been packaged in such away as to "reach the market."  Amidst a bunch of spiritual "hand-waving", Christ is promoted as pointing us to a life of ease and comfort, at least "for our souls."  Life becomes easy if we just "give it up to God" or to Christ.  If there is anything that sells in modern America it is that which makes our lives more easy, more carefree, more enjoyable.  We measure the value of things by how good they make us "feel" rather than the objective benefit they may or may not bring to our existence.

But standing there, over and against such trivialization of His message, is the Christ, Jesus the Son of God.  He makes no prior concessions to His call on our lives.  His unconditional command is "Come, follow me."  He promises nothing other than Himself as a certain outcome.  He may tell us, as with a certain young man, that we must give away all that we possess in order to go with Him.  He may lead us in circumstances where evil men or women do to our bodies what other men did to His.  He tells us that a servant is not better than his master and therefore cannot, by definition, expect better treatment.  He tells us that some people labor in the vineyard all day long and are subjected to long hours of bitter toil, while others labor only for a short time, and yet, at the end of the day, they all receive the same wages.  

What strikes us is just how stark, how otherwise forbidding, are the steps that He points to us to take.  There it is a steep climb and there are many dangers... and, at the top, what is promised... "only" fellowship with Him.  One has to be crazy... or one has to be born again... to accept that pathway in the first place.  Only the born again will undertake it with joy.  For, at the end, when the climb is complete, they know that what is there promised and what is there certain, is that the warmth, blessing, thrill, and fulfillment of their lives awaits.

Those steps and this image remind me of these things.  It's not supposed to be "easy" - it is supposed to be, and it is, worth it.

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Rendering Unto Caesar... But Not Very Cheerfully...

[Laocoon Graphic, as annotated by William Blake]

 Matthew 22:17–22 (NKJV)¹⁷ Tell us, therefore, what do You think? Is it lawful to pay taxes to Caesar, or not?” ¹⁸ But Jesus perceived their wickedness, and said, “Why do you test Me, you hypocrites? ¹⁹ Show Me the tax money.” So they brought Him a denarius.

²⁰ And He said to them, “Whose image and inscription is this?” ²¹ They said to Him, “Caesar’s.”

And He said to them, “Render therefore to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s, and to God the things that are God’s.” ²² When they had heard these words, they marveled, and left Him and went their way.  

Nothing so ruins a perfectly good Saturday than the prospect of paying taxes... particularly when one's view of the current government provides scant encouragement that said taxes will be well spent or serve the general welfare in other than a secondary role.  No, primarily they will be spent to feather various politicians' nests and strengthen the strangle-hold that current ruling ideologies have on common sense.

Today was spent getting records in order... searching for missing invoices, tracking down the exact nature of credit card purchases and striving against the temptation to paste "deductible" categories where they really don't apply.  Let's see... "I'm a pastor... my wife expends tidy sums on things to feed the wildlife in our back yard... there's got to be a tie to sermon preparation there somewhere...!"  No... No... No.

Old Laocoon must have felt something like this.  All he tried to do was to stop those brain dead Trojans from rolling that stupid giant horse inside the city walls.  ["Do not trust the Horse, Trojans / Whatever it is, I fear the Greeks even bearing gifts."]What does he get?  A thoroughly ticked off goddess who wants the Greeks to win and more sea serpents than he could handle.  Somewhere along the line he knew he couldn't win.  So do I.  

Even though, like Laocoon, I know, deep down that I am right, yet the command is clear.  Caesar has his rights... God has His.  I live in a land that still provides close similarity to freedom.  There are many good and decent people in it.  Thanks be to God the descent into mindlessness and tyranny, though ponderous and inevitable, has at least been resisted and some breathing room still remains.  So, taxes have to be paid... for the chaos that would be unleashed and the simmering violence that only awaits a crack in the dam would wreak devastation far greater than is warranted at this point.  Therefore, Caesar has to be paid... and obeyed... to a point.

It's the other half of that saying that will ultimately determine the day.  Caesar can demand and good citizens will have to pay, but the injustice and unrighteousness that befouls so many government expenditures is storing up wrath on that other side of Jesus' coin.  God will receive His due, in His time, sooner or later.  

William Blake understood the sculpture of Laocoon as metaphorically pointing toward God's struggle against evil.  Yes, I know, he was a bit weird in his ascriptions... but, fundamentally the point is secure.  God is not absent from the war against serpents or the dark forces that send them to plague the "righteous."  It's His war also... and the good thing is... we know how it ends.

So, I suppose that all cheerfulness does not have to be absent.  Whatever portion Caesar demands of me I will pay for I know, that in so doing, I will be adding to the incriminating evidence that God will one day bring forth against those who unjustly demand so that they may unwisely spend.

And tomorrow... Sunday... I have the high privilege of giving unto God that which is God's.

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A Time For Shivering...

[photo:WinterWeeds, JAVanDevender, 2010]

Psalm 74:16–17 (NKJV)

The day is Yours, the night also is Yours; You have prepared the light and the sun. ¹⁷ You have set all the borders of the earth; You have made summer and winter.

"Every Thing is Beautiful... in its own way" (Ray Steven sings it here)... even a "snow covered winter's day."    Sitting here shivering in an office with the heating system on the blink, the outside temperature hovering around 15 (F) and no immediate prospects of repair, I have to exert some will power to think of it in positive terms.  But, as the Psalmist reminds us, this day is God's day also.  

We don't think of weeds in a positive light very often either.  They grow, by definition, where we don't want them to be.  They are stalky and prolific and they edge out the perennials we so diligently planted.  So, a combination of winter and weeds on first consideration, would be a double "downer."  But not really.  When the snow graces the remaining stalks with cottony softness and the stark white brings high relief to the browns, we find ourselves moved to wonder, perhaps in spite of ourselves.

Perhaps there is a metaphor here worth pondering, if only for a moment.  Life is not always easy... the cold winds and harsh temperatures can pose deadly threats to us.  The frustration that "weeds" bring into our lives, the plans that don't work out the way we want, the unforeseen contingencies that knock us off our balance, the sheer fact that everything we do is harder than we want it to be, costs more than we want to pay and takes longer than we wish to happen, all these tend to distract us and make us forget that God has made the "winter" also.  Perhaps what we need to do is step back and see those things from a different perspective... maybe there is beauty there that only detachment can make visible... 

The great hope we have for our lives is that God is all sovereign, all wise and all powerful.  That means that nothing we face is beyond His capacity to address and neither is it happening without His knowledge.  We can turn to Him and find hope in Him for whatever is before us.  But, it is logically necessary that we also must accept, concurrently, that the present instance, whatever it may be, is in fact the result of His ordering of the universe.  Winters follow Summers... by design.  If we have hope for Spring, trusting in God's providence, then we must accept, submit and look for the beauty in the Winter we are going through, for it is there by design also.

Everything..  is beautiful... in its own way.  Somehow, though I still shiver.. it's OK.

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Arrangements: Faith Makes Us, And Not We It....

[photo: Arrangements, JAVanDevender, 2011]

Ralph Waldo Emerson had a way with words.

And now let us do what we can to rekindle the smouldering, nigh quenched fire on the altar. The evils of the church that now is are manifest. The question returns, What shall we do? I confess, all attempts to project and establish a Cultus with new rites and forms, seem to me vain. Faith makes us, and not we it, and faith makes its own forms. All attempts to contrive a system are as cold as the new worship introduced by the French to the goddess of Reason, — to-day, pasteboard and fillagree, and ending to-morrow in madness and murder. ......, you speak the very truth, as your life and conscience teach it, and cheer the waiting, fainting hearts of men with new hope and new revelation? {Emerson, Divinity School Address, 1838]

Emerson saw two things very clearly: (1) that Christianity (as he knew it in his day) was far from perfect, was prone to abuse, and was often manifestly hypocritical in those who claimed it, & (2) that nothing better could be invented by men.

Man is a religious animal by design.  There has never been an age in which the general mood of men as a whole was not shaped by the need to worship and the fear of punishment.  The so called "enlightened" mind that Emerson so valued and which so many smug sophisticates today profess, saw this general tug and push of men's souls as a relic of survival equipment, a tool in Darwinian evolution, which is now as useless and irrelevant as a human appendix.  It must have served its purpose once, but now it's best just to have it surgically removed.

However Emerson, as with the more penetrating modern thinkers, saw that there must be however some transcendent reality (hence Transcendentalism)  toward which man must turn his eyes in order to fill that aspect of his humanity that we call soul.  Emerson saw this as an individual thing... best pursued in romantic engagement with nature.. as the solitary soul reached out from the confines of the physical and touched the face of God... Whoever He might be.  Thus, for all his enlightened smugness, Emerson had to admit that "faith" was necessary... that in fact a man cannot be a man, a human is not human, apart from it.  For it is "faith" which makes us, and not we it.

People have confused the flawed instrument of the Church (here meaning the structural institution in its various forms) with Christianity for years.  The form does not define the content nor does it restrict the Power that inhabits it.  When one places certain objects "just so" in order to create some pleasing arrangement that, for some reason, evokes a warm response... it is not the imperfections of the individual objects that occupy the attention nor diminish the pleasure.  In fact, it is the very fact that the overall arrangement uses and transcends the imperfections of each object that gives the final dimension to the ultimate effect.

This is what Emerson missed even as he had a glimmer of the truth that ultimately invalidated his final position.  "Faith" does indeed make us... but it is not a "faith' that works independently or even at all in isolation.  The faith which makes us human is that binding force which is manifest in community... in the arrangement of individual lives which are placed "just so" with other lives such that a true community faith is attained.  This "community" faith then shapes us individually as well as corporately.

A "faith" which is "alone" is not a faith which alone justifies.  We are saved by grace through faith, but we are not saved apart from the faith that is manifested in community with others.  Emerson's great failure was that he viewed the world only through the lens of the individual and hence, though he exhorted the students to preach the truth, it was truth itself which was just beyond his reach.

 

Doing The Job....

I spent 23 years in the military during a time (Viet Nam) when the wider culture was definitely not disposed to endorsing that lifestyle. This movie demonstrates that finally it is possible for our stories to be told without the false romanticism of the early days nor the hideous distortions of the Anti-war crowd.

When a military person talks about "doing his job" there is an entire layer of meaning that is included there that simply does not communicate very well outside the circle. He/She is not talking about simply putting in time at the desk nor just earning a paycheck. That person is talking about an entire focus of life and mission that integrates sense of country, sense of responsibility, sense of mutual dependence, sense of honor, sense of necessity that transcends ordinary vocation. This is not to romanticize it nor to unduly glorify it. It simply is what it has to be. The well understood observation that when the bullets are flying that a soldier is not fighting for his country, he is fighting for his buddies, is true. But the reason why he is fighting for them is because, fundamentally, they share that same set of sensibilities, each to a greater or lesser extent and each in different proportions. Life is clarified greatly when your immediate actions and those of your brothers in arms constitute issues of life and death. The simultaneously liberating and depressing reality that death is only one bullet away at any given instant and that there really is no such thing as a "safe area" breeds a certain callousness as well as intense awareness of each moment. There is the story of the soldier crossing Flanders field in World War I, in the midst of mind boggling carnage, suddenly being intensely aware of a single tree still standing and beautifully shrouded in fog. Life is real when your business is death.

This of course does not mean, necessarily, that this intensity of experience is always conducive to mental stability. There are those of us in whom sensory over-load simply is intolerable and the danger of foundational collapse is a real possibility. That challenge is always present and as this movie shows, each person responds to it in their own unique manner.

I have seen few movies which rivets the audiences attention to the military experience as well as this one. There are no rose colored glasses here but neither are honor and duty held in contempt. The central character hates the statement "it is what it is" but in the last analysis, that is the message that the story communicates. The connection between the grandson and the grandfather is far more than common military experience but it cannot be separated from it. Their stories are different but fundamentally the same. As the grandfather says... "you cannot choose your war... you have to just go and do the best job you can." That statement communicates the fundamental integrity and prevailing moral virtue of military service. A price has to be paid... but the whole point is that is a price that must be paid. Not everyone is called to it and not everyone can do it... and that also is just how it is. But for those who do and for those whose integrity is proven in it, there is a transcendent bond that is established among them that is as important as life itself. It simply is the way it is.

What is possible to achieve is exactly what this movie portrays as being achieved, both by the grandfather and his grandson. The respect and appreciation of superiors and inferiors alike, when the man they want to fight with is the man that is there with them. Grandfather and grandson both walked the walk and their reward was not a grand parade and a bunch of medals. Their reward was the look in their fellow soldiers' eyes when tough decisions had to be made.

Some will say that such is not worth it... they are the ones who don't know what it means to "do their job."

This is a great movie and it is well worth watching.

 

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Going It Alone.... A Meditation on the Matter of Principles.

[Solo, JAVanDevender, 2011]

Sometimes you just feel more and more alone.  It's not true of course, generally, it's more a perception than anything else.  But it can become pretty pervasive and it can become very discouraging.

This sense of there being fewer and fewer of "us" these days has been present with me for a while.  It just seems that the gap between what I think, ... what I know, to be important and in fact of primary importance, and that which is evidently occupying that status among the general social community is so wide and further widening at such a great rate, that I think no bridges are any longer possible.  And what is most discouraging is that those on whom I could historically depend upon no longer are dependable at all.   The number of voices that cry out are fewer and fewer.  Men and women of principle seem to have given up the fight and joined the lemmings in their rush.  

For it is the idea of "principle" that concerns me.

It is not so much that people today would agree that they are not men or women "of principle."  It's just that those words commonly no longer mean anything. They have been redefined into trivialities.  (See this piece by Karl Albrecht from Psychology Today). We have a president, for example, about whom many say that he is committed to the "principle" that more needs to be done for those at the lower end of the prosperity scale.  They will speak of his commitment to an ideology of "big government" or this, that or the other.  What they fail to either understand or what they choose to ignore is that these types of things are not "principles."  They are political positions which may or may not rest upon some deeper moral principle.  

"Principles" are those fundamental moral values which govern a person's conduct and place limits on their behaviors.  "Principles" define what we believe to be noble and constitute the measures by which we evaluate the character of others.  A man or woman of principle is a person who is formed by those principles and who cherishes them.  If a man holds to the principle that "truth" is of utmost importance then he will reflect it by speaking the truth simply because it is the truth and thus needs to be spoken.  He will value truth even when he finds himself lying and his conscience will actively plague him for his failure.  "Principles" form the basis on which we recognize "justice" and "mercy" and how each is to be pursued in its time and place.  To be a man or woman of principle is to stand, by definition, against the purely pragmatic.  Principles tell us when compromise is possible and when it is not.  Principles are the bed rock on which we build the house of our lives.  

But to build such a house on such a foundation, principles must be consciously understood and consciously pursued.  Such a life may have impulsive moments but more as exceptions than as the rule.  What seems more and more the case is that impulse, "feelings", or other such ideas dominate the way people live their lives.  If Socrates was correct that "an unexamined life is not worth living" it appears that most peoples lives fall into that category.

We just had an inaugural address given by a man whose fundamental purpose is to exercise power and the masses cheer.  This is scary. The only hedge against the misuse of power is "principle."  When politics is only the "art of what's possible" rather than the pursuit of a just and noble government that deals with issues within a framework of clearly articulated and consciously affirmed 'principles', then there is great danger.  The skys do appear dark.... and it sometimes seems that only a few are still braving the currents.

God have mercy on us all.

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Be Quiet!

[photo: Nordland, DCJohanson, 2012]

There are occasions when it seems absolutely unholy to disturb the stillness.  

Emerson (not my favorite poet or philosopher but he had a way with words and was a keen observer) said:

'''Tis a queer life, and the only humour proper to it seems quiet astonishment. Others laugh, weep, sell, or proselyte. I admire.''

I think he was on to something.  That which constitutes the largest part of our life should be appreciated with "quiet astonishment."  The 2nd chapter of Genesis teaches us that God created the world, our vocations in it, our very own human constitution (in the image of God), our companions and our own vulnerabilities, as theaters of delight.  Our very finitude is a testament to the Infinite and the only proper expression of finitude is awe.  There is no basis for astonishment between equals... it is only when one sees something that draws the soul out of the immediate and into the transcendent that the anxiety calming, fear dismissing, comfort bringing peace descends.  We were made to look at mountains standing stark against a forbidding sky, colors sharply defined in high contrast, and just soak it in.   Words cannot express the story we experience... so why speak?

The basic reason why God prohibited the use of idols in our worship of HIm is because each representation represents a departure from the truth.  It is a reduction of infinity to something that can be seen, touched and enclosed.  This is a perversion... an abomination.. an insult to His Person.  This is man 'speaking' about God when he ought to be listening... from the heart.

Speaking in the presence of the Holy is somewhat similar.  If God does not command us to speak we should be silent.... it's only polite and ultimately it is the only way we will hear.

Away with this constant barrage of words... away with having to "say something"  - Be quiet!  Sit on the lake, quietly tethered to your Bouy... safe in the harbor of God's love as revealed to your heart and soul in Jesus Christ, and just soak it in.  You will find "rest for your souls. (Matt. 11:29)"

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