Gadfly's Muse

Come To The Grand Canyon

[Image: Grand Canyon, 2013, JA Van Devender]

Acts 22:14 (NKJV)

¹⁴ Then he said, ‘The God of our fathers has chosen you that you should know His will, and see the Just One, and hear the voice of His mouth.  

No journey up the line of high ground between Mexico and Canada can truly be complete without stopping at the Grand Canyon.  Woe to the benighted soul who walks out on the first platform, does a "dutiful" scan of the vistas that lie before his or her eyes, and then turns to have their picture taken, posing against the backdrop.  I saw dozens, maybe a dozen dozen, do just that.  The morning light was perfect, the sky was clear as glass, the deep reds, contrasting blacks and blues evidenced their most saturated potential.  And all that many of these folks cared about was getting their own picture taken.  Talk about "me" centered.... oh well... what can you do?   

But along side of that phenomenon was another: the sheer multiplicity of languages being spoken.  The United Nations, and some that aren't united at all, were there.  I talked with one man who was German and who grew up near the Dutch border.  He was very interested to hear that my ancestors came from the city of Deventer.  He knew the city well.  He was here on "holiday" and business.  A very pleasant man.  Two young Russians from the Moscow area struck up a conversation after I offered to take their picture, of course.  There were a couple of Slovaks, multitudes of Koreans & Chinese, some British.... etc.  I actually, without exaggeration, think that there were more 'foreigners' there than Americans.  

I spent a very enjoyable morning walking the rim, searching out compositions, talking with people and just delighting in the subtle diversity of images the canyon presents and the not so subtle diversity of those who were drawn there to see it from all over the globe.

It is easy to look at the Grand Canyon and after the over-whelming first impression, have all the subsequent views simply be "more big rocks."  It is also easy to look at people who are different from us and after the first startling impression, simply categorize them as "more Koreans, ... or Germans... or Russians... or Slovaks... or Brits... etc."  Yet, when we take time to shift our perspective a bit, walk around the rim, check out different angles, explore some of the smaller features, what we find in the Grand Canyon is a near endless diversity of interest.  Can we not say the same thing about other people?

Saul (he who became the apostle Paul) was about as stereotypical a Pharisaical Jew as you could get.  If there was every a narrow-minded bigot, he met the definition hands down.  To Saul, Gentiles, even if they were "fellow travelers" - searchers after the One True God - still fell into a particular category - that of "other"... that of "lesser"... and in many cases that of "unclean."

So it is with exquisite irony that the Resurrected Jesus, when He reached down into time and space and slapped Saul to the ground, raised him up again to embark upon a particular mission... that of taking the Gospel of Jesus Christ .... to the GENTILES!!!!  Oh, the wonder of it.  Oh, the power of Pentecost that transformed the Gospel into the multitudes of languages that characterized the peoples of the world and thereby sanctioned it being presented to others in their own language and without having to learn Hebrew.  

No man can stand before the Great Commission and claim that he is not qualified to share the Gospel with the world and make disciples among them.  There is no real need to "go"... the world has come here.  All that is needful is to see the masses for what they are: individuals, each with their own features and interest.  It takes very little actual effort to look and see... but it does take intentionality... it does mean shifting our eyes away from ourselves and from only thinking in terms of having our own picture taken.  

All it really requires is that we delight in the diversity that is present in any individual.. to appreciate the work of God that is present there... to think on those things that are noble and of good report in that person while being conscious of the sin that must be dwelt with.

On this trip I have had casual conversations with dozens of people from all over.  Uniformly they have been friendly and welcoming.  When they found out I was a preacher, some were delighted... some shut up right away and were on their guard from that moment on, ... some were just plain curious.  But what was important was that God has provided us with the means to "see" other people through His Holy Spirit and there is a bountiful harvest waiting to be brought into the Lord's barn.

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In Praise of the Ordinary

[Image: (1) AM, outside Wickenberg, Az; (2)Noon, Prescott, Az; (3) PM, View from Highway, Part of Mogollon Rim, South of Jerome]

2 Corinthians 9:7–9 (NKJV)

⁷ So let each one give as he purposes in his heart, not grudgingly or of necessity; for God loves a cheerful giver. ⁸ And God is able to make all grace abound toward you, that you, always having all sufficiency in all things, may have an abundance for every good work. ⁹ As it is written: “He has dispersed abroad, He has given to the poor; His righteousness endures forever.”  

Sunday dawned bright and clear.  It was a slow day however.  Services at the local Episcopal church did not start until 10:00am and my brother does not like to miss the Eucharist each Sunday so there we went.  Consequently we did not get on the road till much later.

From the quaint little town of Wickenberg, Az with all its "cowboy" flavor, up through Prescott and over the windey and windy trip across the peaks headed toward Flagstaff, the scenery was uniformly interesting and occasionally spectacular, but not particularly inspiring.

I have commented several times to my brother that I just love HiWay 89.  It's mostly two lane, in good condition, lightly traveled and it provides one of the best visual tours of Western Topography that you can get.  There are miles and miles of miles and miles and it is always beautiful country.  It just changes.

When we went through Prescott, shortly after noon, we hit a real traffic jam... our first.  It seems that Memorial day weekend is when that town kicks off its entire season of arts, crafts and other types of shows.  The place was packed.  We had lunch and then walked around and looked at some of the offerings.  It was almost entirely Western and Native American style and themes but there were some amazingly good pieces.  If I was rich I would have brought some of them home.  
 I particularly liked the work of the artist (image #2 above) shown at right.  The colors, 3 dimensionality and lighting were amazingly good.  

All in all, Prescott, was like so many of the smaller towns that we have passed through.  There is a real sense of vitality, pride and energy present in the people.  Arizonians were friendly (though the people in Utah set the standard) and I found a very refreshing difference in the common culture, the people on the street, than what we have back East.

Toward the evening (photo #3) above, the setting sun really brought out the colors in the surrounding hills and the clear, clean high altitude air made visibility superb.  As I mentioned, nothing earth shaking, but a very nice day for remembering that not everything has to be astonishing to be appreciated.

These are those days when I am reminded of just what it means to have "sufficiency" in all things.  There are huge ups and downs in our lives but for the most part our days are fairly settled.... there is a consistency to them... and ordinariness if you will.  But that doesn't mean they have to be boring.. and what it does mean is that we have to guard against ingratitude if we view them that way.  

Many of us have grown accustomed to "sensory saturation" as the measure of meaning.  If something is not "exciting" then it is not interesting.  "Just enough" is not appreciated when "more" beckons.  But Paul reminds us that God gives us "sufficiency in all things" and that His promise of "abundance" is directed toward that which we need to do "every good work."  In other words, God gives us what we need for ourselves and more than enough for what we need to build His Kingdom.  If we can somehow get our minds off ourselves long enough to appreciate those things that God "ordinarily" gives us... if we see the beauty in the "common", then all of a sudden the miles flying by become much more enjoyable... and, perhaps, even satisfying.

It is pleasant to stop along a road and see an "ordinary" Western view and realize, with thanksgiving, that God has "dispersed abroad, has given to the poor."  "Enough" is "enough" for us to have reasons to praise and proclaim that God's righteousness does in fact, endure forever.

Day 04- PM - Nations Come, Nations Go: Lessons From The Salado

[Images: (1) Salado Cave Dwellings;  (2) Steep Climb; (3) Tonto (Salt River) Basin and Roosevelt Lake, 2013 JA Van Devender]

Acts 17:25–26 (NKJV)

²⁵ Nor is He worshiped with men’s hands, as though He needed anything, since He gives to all life, breath, and all things. ²⁶ And He has made from one blood every nation of men to dwell on all the face of the earth, and has determined their preappointed times and the boundaries of their dwellings,  

There has to be a certain strange insanity that prompts some "no longer young" men to undertake to hike up the 1/2 mile trail from the parking lot and visitor center at the Tonto National Monument to the "Lower Cave Dwellings".  Note that qualifier... there is an "Upper Cave Dwelling" that will remain beyond my personal first hand experience for the remainder of my life.

But I had plenty of water and the path was spacious enough for the various young families to go whizzing past me.  Some of the show-off dads were carrying their kids on their shoulders. No respect in these younger generations.  The views (see 2 & 3) and the ruins were well worth it actually and I absolutely commend this particular National Park to any who come to the northern regions of Arizona.

Look out on that vista in photo no. 3.  The Roosevelt Lake (named after Theodore of course who set aside these lands for a National Park and funded the dam construction) was not there about a thousand years ago (1150 - 1450) but people were.  Lots of people.  Around 15000 of them worked the land, building irrigation ditches to raise numerous varieties of foods, organizing communities and demonstrating superb pottery skills with unique glazes and designs.  They were not "cave dwellers" but they took advantage of the numerous caves in the region to construct multi-family homes out of the natural stone that was the material in the cave walls.  Most of the hundreds of certified sites in the region are not in caves but demonstrate an integrated cultural integrity with some evidence of commerce with other nations outside the region.

These were the '"Salado" people though that is a later name applied to them.  There are no written records to tell us what they called themselves.  "Salado" is from the Spanish word for "salt" and refers to the Salt River Region which was their central habitat.

They were evidently an intelligent, hard working people.  The cave dwelling are very functional and sturdy with some rooms remaining largely intact for almost a thousand years.  The construction is not elegant but one can readily imagine how safe and secure these families were who lived here, shielded from the weather by the shallow cave and from any predatory humans with evil intent by the easily defended heights.  There were springs nearby and game was abundant.  It must have been a relatively good life for prehistoric American peoples.

And then... they just seem to have disappeared.  There's lots of theories about what happened but all have this in common.  They are all pretty much pure speculation.  These folks seem to have lost their identity and perhaps their very existence.  Even the remaining verbal myths of other tribes do not help.  Something happened and their time was up.  

There's a lesson there for all of us in my thinking.

No matter how apparently prosperous and strong a nation becomes, yet it can disappear into the mists of history virtually over-night.  The people of Pompeii went to bed one night in their prosperous and up-scale Roman villas only to wake the next morning to unimaginable horror.  Some mothers were buried alive while shielding their infants in the downpour of volcanic ash that swept over the city.  The same story has been repeated in greater and smaller scale throughout all of history.  There was a time when some "brilliant" academic archeologists thought that the Biblical mention of the "Hittite" people was just one more strike against its authenticity, since at that time no evidence of such a civilization existed,[see HERE].  That is until some wandering Arab fell through a hole in the desert and landed in a Hittite library.  The point is, all civilizations stand before God in the same way that individuals stand before Him.  Their lives are in His hands.  

It is God who determines their times, both to rise and to fall.  It is He who sets their boundaries and provides for their prosperity, when it is required for His purposes, and brings about their ruin, when that is required also.  This is true for nations that know Him (such as Byzantium) and for those that don't (such as the Salado).  As Jon Edwards famously preached - "it is a terrible thing to fall into the hands of an angry God".  When God has determined that a nation has reached the end of its purpose, the course of events would be properly interpreted as God's "anger."

This country, and all of us in it, should remember the Salado.  We have no claim, inherent or otherwise, to His continued blessing.  We have nothing to hold up to Him and say, "See... this is how good we are.  You should preserve us indefinitely."  No, Sodom and Gomorrah were not too far removed from our own standards of common morality.  

We have no claim on God, but we do have access to Him.  And we should use it.  After all, what does God require of us, but to do justly, love mercy and walk humbly with our God.  It doesn't guarantee that He will preserve the country in which we dwell.... but it might just be that our witness and integrity are the very purposes that serve His glory.  Perhaps... in our repentance... we might just see that such is what He intended all along.

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Day04 - AM - When It Never Was But Should Have Been....

[Image: Tom Mix & Friends, 2013, JA Van Devender]

Tom Mix: Wyatt, is that really the way it was?

Wyatt Earp: Absolutely. Well, give or take a lie or two. 
(not to be taken as an actual... well, you know... quote.)

If you head north out of Tuscon and you forsake the gosh-awful interstate and point your hood down old Rt. 89, you will find one of the few remaining enjoyable drives left in these 48 states.

Two, virtually uninhabited, well maintained lanes stretch through the developing countryside.  The speed limit varies as you whisper through quiet little villages where strangers are still noticed, but for the most part you can travel "65" if you want to.  We didn't.  Like the Blues Brothers we  were on a mission, it was our first "absolutely, must find, we will not fail" objective.  We were going to stop and photograph the "Tom Mix Monument."  As you will no doubt agree, it simply had to be done.

It was here, "on this very spot".  on Oct 12, 1940 that Tom Mix, driving way too fast, could not stop his fancy car fast enough to avoid a washed out section of this very high way, and lost his life when the car left the road and rolled over into a ditch.  It made national news.

For those poor souls who never sat through a 25 cent Saturday matinee, shown in one of those old movie houses where there was red carpet on the floor and you had to go up a half dozen steps to the theater doors  walking between brass stanchions that held the red rope defining the path, here's some vital information.

In those movies, cowboys with white hats were the good guys... those with the black ones, well... they were scoundrels, up to no good, and that "no good" usually involved besmirching the honor of a primly clad beauty who was as pure as the snow gracing the mountain peaks in the background.   The usual progression of plot was as predictable as it was delightful (to ten year olds who were impressed with the airconditioning in the movie theater.)   The climax was a shoot out wherein the bad guys all had their guns shot out of their hands, or, if the movie director was attempting a bit more realism, they were hit in the shoulder and put out of the fight.  No blood was ever involved.

The absolute standard for all subsequent white-hatted cowboy heroes was Tom Mix.  He was before John Wayne... Roy Rogers.. Hopalong Cassidy... The Lone Ranger... etc.   He was bigger than life on the screen and an entire generation of young boys who would one day fight real battles with real guns in far away places like Okinawa, Normandy, Italy, etc. had their first lessons in battling for a noble cause from Tom Mix.

And, by all reports, he was a fraud.  Married numerous times... a hard drinking cowboy who happened to be at the right place at the right time.  There are two versions of his life... the Hollywood version which put him somewhere just short of sainthood and certainly capable of a couple of minor miracles or two.  And the much more hazy, hard to pin down, version which has him born in Pennsylvania, not El Pason, and who may have had, shall we say, a less than sterling tour in the military during the Spanish American War.  Let's just say that there is some doubt as to just how he took to the idea of people with real guns pointing them his way.

But what was important about Tom Mix and all those other 'heroes' I mentioned, was not what was their actual life.  No, by far and away, what was important were the ideals they promoted on screen.  The ideas of "honesty in word and deed", a sense of "fair play" that set the stage for justice, and a steady hand in the face of danger, were really what every move was about.  For all their faults, can we really say that the "hoody" generation's idols serve as better role-models?  Now that directors seek to shock the audience with greater and more gruesome scenes of violence, are we really sure that this is more helpful for young minds to watch?

No... it was not Tom Mix himself that set two old chubby men off on their quest.  Rather it was a nostalgic longing for the what he represented... even if it never was.  I think it served us well.

RIP Tom... and may God have mercy on your soul.  You certainly needed it.

 

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Day 03: Say What? "Say-Wha-Ro!" - Seguaro

[image: (1) Saguaro, Saguaro National Park (East), Tuscon, AZ., (2) Saquaro Flower, 2013, JA Van Devender]

Song of Solomon 2:12 (NKJV)

¹² The flowers appear on the earth; The time of singing has come, And the voice of the turtledove Is heard in our land.  

Solomon probably was not thinking primarily of the wondrous relation between flowers and turtle doves when he is represented as singing these words to his beloved.  No, his mind was elsewhere, ... on the correspondence between Spring and love... on the time for loving and for bringing about the consummation of his passion.  But, interestingly enough, a dove came and posed for me on an adjacent branch of a seguaro cactus right across from a beautiful blossom.  I took several photos but the distance was too great to get a sharp image of the dove so you will just have to use your imagination.

Evidently any report of the seguaro being an endangered specie is vastly over rated.  These majestic monsters towered over Tuscon on every spare piece of arid, graveled, seemingly inhospitable square foot of landscape.  The National Park Service is doing heroic work in keeping the land set aside for their preservation (sequester cuts you know.. has to be spread across the board you know... don't get me started on that one.) but it does not appear that they are all that threatened.  These things were everywhere. (except by vandals, see link below... refer to my earlier defense of capital punishment for my thoughts on these curs)

It's a very interesting and useful plant.  The Native Americans who traipsed these lands centuries ago and the Spaniards and Americans who followed them, found this cactus very useful for food and other things.  You can check it out on line if you wish (HERE).  

What was very interesting to me was that the flower blossoms open at night and remain open until early afternoon and then close through late afternoon and early evening.  Thus certain species of bats are helpful pollinators.  The seguaro are also home to numerous nesting birds.  What a neat plant.

All my life I have primarily been a "mountain & woods" kind of guy.  I love the towering shade and cool breezes that accompany the soft beauty of Eastern mountain vistas.  It's easy for me to drift into warm thanksgiving when gazing out on such a sight.  Western deserts, high heat, low-humidty, constant winds and brilliant colors have never figured much in my aesthetic sensibilities.  But sitting there, quietly letting the multitudes of birds and small "critters" resume their normal duties, I found that God was present in the desert also.  

I don't care how many millions of millenia you give it, mindless evolution, in my opinion, would not have produced this particular plant.  It is too highly specialized.  It only grows in a very narrowly confined region in the United States and northern Mexico.  And yet that same region grows many other cacti and other plants that thrive across a much wider spectrum.... that have much higher survival capacity.  No.. this plant is a gift of God, in my mind.  It is evidence of His special attention to detail, gracing His creation with little tokens of His craftsmanship, reminding us that His purposes are glorious and that we can see evidence of them everywhere.

So... the Seguaro National Park was my first opportunity on this trip to draw aside and remember my Creator in that special way that I find Him.  Like Solomon, it was a time for the expression of love, with the flower in bloom and the dove singing her mournful harmony.  There was peace there, sitting on a rock, thanking God for the gifts He gives to men.

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It's There... You Just Have To Look For It!

Day02 - El Paso To Tuscon

[Image: Continental Divide Trading Post, 2013, JA Van Devender]

For what do we live, but to make sport for our neighbors, and laugh at them in our turn?”

Mr. Bennett, Pride and Prejudice, Jane Austen

Day 02 was not nearly as difficult a drive or as long a day as Day 01 but the scenery was pretty drab.  Basically it was flat, arid, gravely 'wasteland.'  After we got to Tuscon I did take some photos at the Saquaro National Forest but we went back the next day when the light was better and so I will have something a bit more beautiful tomorrow, I hope.

But there is one thing about these United States of America, we don't hesitate to laugh at ourselves.  Right in the middle of that "nothingness" the "Continental divide (West)" slices through the desert (figuratively meant of course).  And right there... all by itself... with absolutely nothing, and I mean nothing, there to commend it is the "Continental Divide Trading Post."  It looks like it's been there since the 1930's and the crusty old ladies who sold touristy trinkets inside it looked like they had been there when the foundation was set.

It is a place you have to see to believe.  Old ramshackle out buildings... a dead gas station on an adjoining lot that has great big gaping holes through the sign.  In other words, it is an American treasure.

As we drove in I noticed the car (above) sitting up on blocks under the overhang where the gas pumps were at one time.  Inside was an old "fella"... look closely and you can see him.  Now, I was a bit curious as to why they would have a car, sitting out front, with a fully dressed skeleton behind the wheel.  I went inside and got one of the old ladies attention and politely asked "What's up with the car out front?"  The lady didn't even pause for a breath... "His wife is still shopping!" she said.

I had to chuckle.  "I don't suppose anyone has ever asked that question before, have they?"  "Nope, you're the first." She replied.

Yeah, right.  But that's America.  I don't think any foreign traveler would have known it was a joke.

It's those little tid-bits that make life worth living sometime.  We take ourselves far too seriously far too often.  There is a bit of a farce about ordinary human life and if we can just step back and look at it, most of the stuff that drives us crazy really ought to just make us realize how foolish we are.  I suppose Mr. Bennett was about as an astute an observer of the human condition as they come.  If we can just laugh at our non-sinful follies instead of being diminished by them I think quite a bit of our stress would be relieved.

In the midst of a desert... there was humor... and a touch of wisdom.  Not a bad day.

Now The Day Is Over....

[Image: Golden Sunset, 2013, JA Van Devender]

Psalm 50:1–2 (NKJV)

¹ The Mighty One, God the Lord, Has spoken and called the earth, From the rising of the sun to its going down.

² Out of Zion, the perfection of beauty, God will shine forth.  

Without all my processing tools, photos I post from this trip will be only minimally processed, but at least you can get a flavor of the things I am seeing.  This one, taken just north of El Paso, is kind of 'noisy' but I think it will be a "keeper" once I turn PhotoShop loose on it.  It's pretty much as I saw it.

 We tend to forget just how big and how blessed we are in this country.  It is a humbling experience to stand under bright skies and peer across miles of unhindered desert flatness at the distant horizon.  And I think it ought to stay that way more than it is.  We parents are often engaged in a seemingly never ending task putting pressure on our kids to keep their room(s) neat and uncluttered.  Why do we not take the same attitude toward this marvellous "room" God has given us to inhabit during our short stay in this life?  Why must every spare inch be covered in asphalt or every majestic sky line ruined with dismally engineered infrastructure?  

Some bridges I have seen and a few buildings here and there actually add to the aesthetic appeal of the natural surroundings.  But far too much does not and as the size of our population doubles and doubles again in ever increasing frequency, the sheer multitude of abusers is rapidly stripping away those remaining vistas that cannot be replaced without catastrophe.  

I don't think God is pleased with that prospect.

Psalm 50 is a sobering reminder that God has not surrendered His sovereign ownership of this world... in its entirety. Verse 12 states it clearly: "For the world is mine, and all its fullness."  The context is referring to His independence of man... God does not "need" anything from us.  But the foundation of His statement is the simple truth, that we are living in God's House... one that He furnished for us to inhabit, true... but it is still His house.  We are, in so many words, renters, or better yet, "share-croppers."  (Look it up, all you city slickers.)  

And God keeps sending us reminders of His ownership.  The brilliance of a setting sun reminds of the extent of His Word flashing into the darkness and coloring it with layers of burnished light.  He has proclaimed Himself from the dawn to the dusk, from beginning to end, throughout the entire "day" of man's sojourn through time.  We are called to look up and be glad that God's artistry is displayed.  But we are also to remember that we have a role to play in God's speaking.  Someone must interpret the sunsets.  Someone must point to the heavens and say... Look and see... there is a God in heaven and He is vitally concerned with what we do with the lives He has given us AND the world He has provided.

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A Finished Fight

[image: Grave Marker, 2013, JA Van Devender]

Yorktown Nat. Cemetery, Yorktown Battlefield, Va.

 1 Timothy 6:11–12 (NKJV)

¹¹ But you, O man of God, flee these things and pursue righteousness, godliness, faith, love, patience, gentleness. ¹² Fight the good fight of faith, lay hold on eternal life, to which you were also called and have confessed the good confession in the presence of many witnesses.

Presently in El Paso, Tx. starting an extended photo shoot through the Rockies with my brother.  A superlong day of travel to get here (20 hours) but anticipation is high, particularly the anticipation of collapsing in bed just shortly.  Hope to get some photos in the works tomorrow (Tuscon area - first photo stop)

This photo was from my recent trip to Williamsburg/Yorktown Battlefield.  It was a very somber moment for me to look down on a long dead, very distant relative.  He was from the "Northern" segment of my family who, doubtless because they kept their Dutch roots longer than the Southern segment, had not lost the original spelling of the last name.  I wondered how old he was... and what were the chances that the Southerner who killed him might have been one of my relatives also.  His name (James W.) goes back a long way in my family line and I have a nephew with that same first name and initial though I doubt the "W" in this man's name stood for "Willard."  All in all, I found myself strangely moved.. a very definite sense of connection linked me to this man and my eyes got a bit misty.

Life in this world takes strange twists on occasion doesn't it?  I wonder what some future relative might think looking down on my tombstone one day, if such is in the Lord's plans.  I know this, that the battles each of us fight as we journey through this life have eternal consequences that link us all together.  This relative died struggling for a great cause... and so, in the last analysis... will we all.  We may not face hideous cannon fire but how we die is not as critically important as how we live prior to that event.  I do not know if this man had saving faith.  I hope he did.  But this I know... that the words Paul spoke to Timothy apply to us today just as much as they applied to this man, assuming in his years he heard them... which is most highly probable.

We have a "good fight" to wage.  We have to "lay hold" to eternal life in whatever relatively long or short period of time we have to heed the command.  Our life can be cut short in a moment even as was his.  Whatever task we have to do at the moment we must do with all our might, ever remembering that our labors are not in vain.  But, and this is most important, the battles we fight are not to the end of purchasing our eternal life... that has been already done for us.  The Savior who walks with us in our battles has purchased us our redemption, when we "lay hold" to eternal life, it is in "grasping" and "holding on" to that truth.  It is the struggle of faith to make it "sure" and to discover how the Lord is daily reinforcing His Presence with us.  

Tonight, as I go down, I will remember this stone once again and then I will cast my thoughts back, to that day long ago when my Savior, cleansed me once and forever of my sin with His very own blood, and then that following first Easter morning when He rose victorious to give me that eternal life which I will share with Him forever.

I hope I see James there, waiting for me one day.  What a glorious story he would have to tell.  And maybe, he would find my story interesting also.  We would have a lot more in common than just our blood and name.

 

 

 

Know... Assuredly....

[Image: Bethesda UMC, 2010, JA Van Devender]

Near Shepherds Town, WVa, Church built 1874, see HERE

Acts 2:32–36 (NKJV)

This Jesus God has raised up, of which we are all witnesses. ³³ Therefore being exalted to the right hand of God, and having received from the Father the promise of the Holy Spirit, He poured out this which you now see and hear. .....

³⁶ “Therefore let all the house of Israel know assuredly that God has made this Jesus, whom you crucified, both Lord and Christ.”  

Those old Methodists were a persistent bunch.  They insisted on building churches that to this day appeal to the heart and senses; that have a welcoming appearance standing in mute invitation to come... come and worship... that promise a nice musty sense of continuity as soon as you come through the door and the offer of a place to sit that is well worn and shiny with the soft glow of continued use.  How few of those are built today as the various architects inflict their "artistic" creations upon their modern victims; as strange angles, and protruding vestibules compete for "originality" and notice.  Somewhere along the line we have seemingly forgotten that a sense of transcendent worship can be incorporated into structures as well as into the human heart.  Oh well... 

It is the message that counts most significantly.  No matter how appealing the building's invitation to come and worship, it becomes false advertising if the central purpose of worship is undermined.  The newly emboldened and transformed Peter stood before that uncertain crowd that day, long ago, apart from any shiny pews or princely pulpit.  There was no carpeted floor or orderly congregation.  He did not know, for certain, whether he would live through the next ten minutes.  There was the distinct possibility that the words that sprang to his mind and which were powered by the zeal the Holy Spirit worked in his heart, would incite the crowd to a repitition of the act of which he was going to convict them.  He was to charge them with murder... and not just any old murder... but blasphemous murder... abominable murder... treasonous murder.  There was no greater damnable offense than that of which they were guilty.  And he rose... claimed their attention.. and told them.  The rest, as they say, is history.

And as it was, so it is today.  The Church has one message to proclaim, the infinite depth of which it is to expound in so doing.  That message is not an argument... it is not a rational appeal only to the mind... it is not to be so packaged in flowery, pleasing, ear-tickling rhetoric that the content is lost in a focus on the melodious phrasing... it is not to be bent into a more accomodating shape so as to please the so-called heightened sensibilities of sophisticated listeners.  It is a message of stark reality and command.  It is a message of absolute authority, absolutely applied.

"Know this... know it clearly... know it assuredly... it is not open for debate... it is not open for discussion in the sense of questioning its validity... this is the truth and must be received as such.  This man Jesus, who was born so many years ago in such humble circumstances, YOU crucified.... it was your sin that put Him there and it was your rebellion against your lawful Sovereign and Lord that drove the nails into His hands and feet...   You crucified Him... and now, know assuredly... that this same man whom you treated so shamefully, has been made, declared, elevated, established as LORD and Christ by the hand of God Himself."

Know this... this is the truth of your standing.  This is the absolute reality of your life and the life of every man, woman and child who draws a fleeting breath.  This man, though crucified, by YOU, lives and not as a suffering servant, but as the ultimate power and authority in all the universe.   He lives... He is exalted in His Person above all things... He is exalted to authority above YOU and you are hereby called, commanded and required to bow your knee to Him and confess with your lips that He and He alone is Lord... Lord of Heaven and Earth and Lord of your life.

This is your God.  Know this... Know it for certain... Know it assuredly.

This is the simple, powerful and infinitely deep message of the Church as proclaimed at its New Birth 2000 years ago.  It is the same message that is to be proclaimed today... in whatever venue the Lord provides to proclaim it.  It is the message that we are to take to heart... today... and register in our humility, obedience and gratitude. 

It is also the message that ought to be proclaimed in our architecture.  

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Those Poor Guys in Cleveland.....

[image: Capitol Building, Colonial Williamsburg, Va, 2013, JA Van Devender]

 Isaiah 1:17 (NKJV)

¹⁷ Learn to do good; Seek justice, Rebuke the oppressor; Defend the fatherless, Plead for the widow.  

Patrick Henry was probably not a man I would ordinarily invite home for dinner I think.  My impression of him, which may be entirely wrong, is that he was one of those sharp-eyed zealots whose demeanor was that of always being "on-edge."  I don't think of him as "companionable" in the ordinary sense of the term.  That's ok, it's not a criticism, I think it would mean that I would rather have him on my side than against me... but I probably wouldn't have him home for dinner.  

It was in this building that Patrick Henry stood and spoke and moved the leaders of colonial Virginia, a very powerful colony, to take strong measures against the unfair, discriminatory taxation that the Parliament of England had imposed them.  Something had to be done.  The various colonies had to act in concert, not individually, if any hope of recourse might be attained.  The taxes were an insult to their standing as "Englishmen" and represented arrogant, arbitrary discrimination against the hard-working colonists who, as they clearly perceived, actually represented the future.... either for England, if she listened, or for themselves, if she didn't.  It was a tense, scary time.... but something had to be done... something had to be said... and it needed to come from across the spectrum of colonial America and not just by scattered voices here and there.

I wonder what Patrick Henry would say today?  I wonder what speeches he would give and what fiery language would he use.  It is openly recognized that certain American tax-payers have been subjected to systematic, sustained harrassment by Federal agencies, pre-eminently by the "Revenooers" in Cleveland.   One woman reported that she was subjected to 17 surprise audit/investigations/demands for information in her pursuit of a "non-profit" status for an organization she was forming.  Her legal bills amounted to hundreds of thousands of dollars just to provide representation and compliance with the demands.  

That is what she endured.  Systematic, detailed, abusive and illegal inquiries beyond the scope of any common sense understanding of what might be required to grant non-profit status to a proposed organization.  Why was she subjected to this?  Because her politics were suspicious.  She appeared to be one of those troublesome conservatives that wanted to ensure that the votes that were being cast in various elections were actually those of people who were alive at the time.... she wanted to form a watch dog organization against voter fraud.  

Clearly, Patrick Henry would be a mite upset.  He might demand to know how this abuse was going to be corrected and he might further demand that criminal proceedings be initiated against those who established such a policy, official or otherwise, that lead to this abuse and the multitudes of other similar abuses.

And what would he say when he read an article such as THIS ONE. Though granting, at least, that these egregious activities were serious mistakes, the authors claim that such events only reflected the unintentional consequences of an over-worked, over-loaded, terribly under-staffed, dispirited group of employees in the Cleveland office of the "Revenooer" organization.  Seriously... they make it sound like these poor folks felt so isolated and alone... that they were considered second-class citizens within the "revenooer" population, and, horror of horrors, they were stuck in Cleveland... oh, the shame of it all.

By the time one gets through the article, one is expected to feel a degree of sympathy for those poor guys... perhaps more for them than the woman who endured the abuse... or the others like her.  Further, somehow, the idea of an over-worked staff who is sincerely trying to handle their case-work with the utmost efficiency because they have so much of it to do, doesn't square very well with the practice of demanding more and more and more and more detail from the applicants, with an ever expanding list of categories.  Why, for example, must a list of donors be provided?  Why, for another example, must all e-mail correspondence between the organizers and those they were seeking to enlist in the cause, be presented?  Especially in light of the recent example of stone-walling by the Administration in furnishing email correspondence to Congress regarding this and other issues.

I think old Patrick Henry would just shake his head at this situation.  He might just walk away saying "it's too late.  They're too far gone.  Something should have been done much sooner before it ever came to this."  I think he might be right in that... but morally, that's no excuse.

It is time, in line with the words of Isaiah above, for us to remember that we have a command from our Lord and God to "do something" about injustice.  It is not to be silently tolerated.  The "oppressor" is to be "rebuked."  Plain speaking and simple expectations are needed.

"There is no excuse for this" should be the first line of argument.  "Those responsible must be specifically identified and subjected to legal action, no matter who they are or what office they hold" should be the second.  And lastly, who ever they are, they are to be "rebuked", by the united voices of the entire community.  Solitary and fragmented voices will be ignored.  

We must all stand together or we shall surely die separately.  Stand up and take a bow, Patrick... for all your faults at least you spoke up when you were needed.

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