Watchman, tell us of the night

Watchman, tell us of the night
Words: John Bowring, 1825
Tune: Aberystwyth

Watchman, tell us of the night,
What its signs of promise are.
Traveler, o'er yon mountain's height,
See that glory-beaming star.
Watchman, does its beauteous ray
Aught of joy or hope foretell?
Traveler, yes; it brings the day,
Promised day of Israel.

Watchman, tell us of the night;
Higher yet that star ascends.
Traveler, blessedness and light,
Peace and truth its course portends.
Watchman, will its beams alone
Gild the spot that gave them birth?
Traveler, ages are its own;
See, it bursts o'er all the earth.

Watchman, tell us of the night,
For the morning seems to dawn.
Traveler, darkness takes its flight,
Doubt and terror are withdrawn.
Watchman, let thy wanderings cease;
Hie thee to thy quiet home.
Traveler, lo! The Prince of Peace,
Lo! The Son of God is come!

God is faithful

Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, for He who promised is faithful.

God said, “I will make my dwelling among them and walk among them, and I will be their God, and they shall be my people.”

Indeed our fellowship is with the Father and with his Son Jesus Christ.

Rejoice insofar as you share Christ's sufferings, that you may also rejoice and be glad when His glory is revealed.

That you, being rooted and grounded in love, may have strength to comprehend with all the saints what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, that you may be filled with all the fullness of God.

Whoever confesses that Jesus is the Son of God, God abides in him [or her], and s/he in God.

Whoever keeps His commandments abides in Him, and He in them.

Alleluia!

The loyalty of a dog II

A love that conquers fear of death

There are more things in heaven and on earth, Horatio
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.
Hamlet, act I, scene v.

Recently, I’ve read some stories about Civil War dogs – the bravery, loyalty and courage of dogs who accompanied their masters into battle. Sallie, a dog adopted by the 11th PA regiment, followed the men into battle that fateful July day at Gettysburg. On the first day’s fighting, the regiment was decimated by Confederate fire and overrun. Despite the confusion of the Federal retreat, Sallie made her way back to her fallen comrades, and there she stood sentinel, licking the faces of the dying until they passed into another world...and guarding the bodies against looters, refusing to leave. Days later, after the Confederate retreat, a member of the 12th Massachusetts found her still on guard, weak from lack of food and water, but still alive. Today, her monument graces that glorious field at Gettysburg…

Another story is told of Confederate Brigadier General William Barksdale’s dog. Barksdale led his Mississippi boys into battle at Gettysburg, only to be cut down on the second day’s fighting. Following the battle, Barksdale’s wife journeyed to Gettysburg to exhume her husband’s remains and return to their home in Mississippi. It was a trip that broke the heart of Barksdale’s dog. Troy Taylor tells it this way:

She was accompanied on her trip by the General’s favorite hunting dog. As the old dog was led to his master’s grave, he fell down onto the ground and began to howl. No matter what Mrs. Barksdale did, she was unable to pull the animal away.

All through the night, the faithful dog watched over the grave. The next day, Mrs. Barksdale again tried to lure the dog away, but he refused to budge, even though the General’s remains had already been loaded onto a wagon to begin the journey back to Mississippi. Finally, saddened by the dog’s pitiful loyalty, she left for home.

For those who lived nearby, the dog became a familiar fixture during the days that followed. He would occasionally let out a heart-breaking howl that could be heard for some distance. Many locals came and tried to lead the dog away, offering him food, water and a good home. The dog refused all of their gestures and eventually, died from hunger and thirst, still stretched out over his master’s burial place.

Wow! What a story of loyalty and love! Can we ever fathom the depths of true dog and human love? It is said that on the night of July 2, the anniversary of Barksdale’s death, an unearthly howl echoes across those silent Gettysburg hills -- a witness of a faithful dog who still grieves from a place beyond this world…dead from a broken heart.

In another story of love, the 102nd Pennsylvania Regiment named their large black and white dog “Jack.” Jack fought with distinction ‘through a score of battles’ and finally took a bullet at Malvern Hill. He recovered from his wound only to be taken captive with his comrades at Salem Heights, and imprisoned for six months at Richmond…

York, the dog of Federal Brig. General Alexander S. Asboth, fought with his master throughout the battle of Pea Ridge, Arkansas. He ran beside the general’s horse, refusing to leave his side…one eye-witness was so impressed that he sketched a picture of the dog which ran in Leslie’s Illustrated Newspaper.

Just a few stories of loyalty between dog and master, fortitude under fire, for the sake of love…

A love that risks itself for the other

Upon reading these stories, my mind went to a time where my dog Wyatt almost killed himself to be near me…and then, in turn, where I had to risk myself to rescue him.

On this gorgeous spring day, a friend and I were exploring, looking for campsites and potential fishing spots. We walked several miles, roughly following a large creek through a mountain pass. A tributary, smaller creek formation caught my eye on the other side, and I decided to cross the large creek for a closer look. I knew better. It was a dangerous creek, more like a mini-river, a favorite of local kayakers…the second fastest creek in Pennsylvania.

In the back of my head lurked the images of four children drowned the same day by this creek, neighborhood children buried by my father, who offered their funeral services years ago. And, I was also warned by the knowledge of a kayaker killed that year on the creek. So I took caution…I thought.

I picked out a section where the creek broadened out, a gentler section where the deepest water wouldn’t even reach much above my waist. Downstream, the creek narrowed through rock walls into twisting vortex of undercurrent and whitewater…but I wasn’t going down there! No way! Not a chance…I was here, many yards upstream, where it was safe to cross.

So I asked my friend, Joe, to hold my dog Wyatt while I crossed. I cautioned Joe not to drop the double-rope leash at any cost: “Whatever you do, please don’t let him follow me!” I couldn’t take the chance that Wyatt would be swept down into danger. So I charged Joe with the task of holding him, and started across.

I balanced myself, walking with care across the rocks and into the deeper parts. It all went well…until behind me, above the roar of the creek I heard a shout: “Loy...Wyatt!” I turned to see Wyatt dashing into the creek, leash and all. He would not be held. It was too much for him to see me crossing alone. He had to be with me!

He wrenched himself free by pure force, and braved the creek. Several leaps and then he was swimming…swimming, and then gone. “Wyatt! No!” I shouted! “NO!” But it was too late. The current grabbed him and swept him down toward the vortex. Only seconds, but it seemed forever: I watched, stunned in horror…as my dog swept faster and faster toward death, struggling for his life. “God, no! Please!”

Suddenly, something caught Wyatt. There, a large single, large rock jutted out of the stream…swept to that exact spot, he clung for dear life. Drenched, and visibly afraid, he looked back at me, pleading to me for help. “Stay, Wyatt, stay!” I cried. I held up my hand, giving him the hold signal…and with all the power in my lungs and body, I commanded, “Stay!” If he tried to move, he was done.

I only had seconds to make a decision.

The current swept by him on both sides, there so deep and powerful that it would take both of us. Vexed in my spirit, I could not leave him! But I had no answer. Even the rope I brought would just hang me in the current…but I had to do something! He couldn’t hold on forever!

Immediately, a voice said: “Approach the rock from directly above. Let the current take you to him, and then trace the exact steps back up to lower water, directly against the current.”

And just as immediately, I acted. “Stay, Wyatt!” “I’m coming!” I took a deep breath, and positioned myself directly above him. Gingerly I walked…then deeper and faster the current caught me…but it only pushed me to that same rock! Wyatt’s fear-filled eyes looked at me with hope, and I carefully took him in my arms…a full-grown, large dog, but he felt as light as a baby to me. And he rested as gently as a baby, too, trusting me implicitly, as I turned back and faced the current. He did not struggle in the water at all…he instinctively realized his life was in my hands, trusting me for the outcome. And I trusted God, and prayed…a step at a time, straight against the current, one more step, not fallen yet! Another step…another…another…gradually less depth, and gradually less current…and then…free from danger!

Just like that, the ordeal was over.

A hint of Love greater than all loves

I put Wyatt down on the bank. And he looked at me with incredible understanding, and licked my face. I’ll never forget that look. He was trying to thank me, in awe and gratefulness. He knew. And I knew too, that should I ever have need, he would die for me in a second.

I hugged him, grateful that we both were alive. How was I to scold him whenever he only wanted to be with me?

And I looked at my friend Joe. He hung his head: “I couldn’t hold him,” he said. “He tore himself free.” And I shook my head. “It’s ok.” “It’s over.” “All’s well that ends well…”

And, it was well!

We made our way back, each a little richer for the experience. I gave thanks to God for clear intervention, for the still, small voice of power and peace. I also gave thanks for the bond between this man and dog, which mirrored, if but for a moment, the infinitely higher bond between human and Creator – a Creator that is never at loss to rescue His loved humans.

I prayed then, and pray still, to be a child that would not fret His control, nor tempt His hand. “It is written,” said the Lord Jesus. “Thou shalt not put the Lord thy God to the test.”

Indeed! But thanks be to God, those times I’ve walked that edge of testing Him, He has been so faithful! And to think that He loves me and you far more than I loved Wyatt, or Wyatt loved me! And yes, He has risked far more to free us from the vortex of our days...

Such incredible, infinite Love!

For those of you hanging on by a thread, in the threatening vortex of life…may the loyalty of a dog renew you again in the loyalty of the One who holds you safe in His awesome hands!

Trust child, trust. Stay, and release yourself to His care…

Alleluia!

Discipleship transcends comprehension

Discipleship not limited to understanding

Martin Luther presents a high view of discipleship, through the eyes of Jesus, as if Jesus is talking to all of us. Jesus speaks to us:

Child, discipleship is not limited to what you can understand – it must transcend all comprehension. Plunge into the deep waters beyond your own understanding, and I will help you to comprehend...

Not to know where you are going is the true knowledge. In this way Abraham went forth from his father, not knowing where he was going. That is the way of the cross. You cannot find it in yourself, so you must let Me lead you as though you were a blind man.

Not the work which you choose, not the suffering you devise, but the road which is contrary to all that you choose or contrive or desire – that is the road you must take. It is to this path that I call you, and in this sense that you must be my disciple. [1]

Not uti, but frui

When religious professionals tried to put God in a box, Jesus replied, “God is not the God of the dead, but the living.” He is the ever living God, transcending our categories of thought and even our rote religious observance. He will not be put in a coffin of human control. We try to contain God, to manage God, but God ever and always breaks our categories: God will not be managed. As Augustine said, ‘God can never be uti [utilized] but must always be frui [enjoyed and related].’ Uti brings despair and self power, eventual emptiness. Frui brings abiding fruition.

Why? The ever living God shatters our little preconceptions and worlds: He is infinitely more than we would contain ‘in freezing coats of mail’ [Theilicke].

God can only be experienced and related to, not grasped.

He calls us, like Abraham and Sarah, to a land which we know not of: It is here that following God gets uncomfortable. But when we embrace it, as a child, we enter such beauty and such meaning as the world cannot comprehend...

Ever Living God

Perhaps it is best expressed in art form, this dance with the Living God! Tonight I praise Him, with Darlene Zschech and Hillsong:

Ever Living God
Maker of all the earth…
Everlasting King
Our eternal praise belongs to You!

All of the honor
All of the glory to You!

You are wonderful, marvelous, forever
Beautiful, Prince of Peace, Faithful One, forever…


Ever Living God
Maker of all the earth…
Everlasting King
Our eternal praise belongs to You!

All of the honor
All of the glory to You!

You are wonderful, marvelous, forever
Beautiful, Prince of Peace, Faithful One, forever…

Take the place of all honor,
Take the place above all thrones,
Take the place of all power:
You are the One
Glorious!

You are wonderful, marvelous, forever
Beautiful, Prince of Peace, Faithful One, forever…

Take the place of all honor,
Take the place above all thrones,
Take the place of all power:
You are the One
Glorious!

Jesus!

In worship and obedience

There is a place, by the seashore of life, to dance in grace, to release constriction, to release the need to manage God, the need to control Him in safety, to release the false categories of comprehension and social wisdom that we put on Him...and just embrace His greatness, worshiping Him in utter freedom.

In Perelandra, C.S. Lewis presents human temptation as a choice between a fixed land or a life-land that moves with the waves, at the will of Creator. The Tempter tempts the lady to choose the fixed land, where she can manage her next day, her person and wished and wants. But in her spirit she knows that she is called to the wave, to cast herself on the waves and let her Maker bring her to the king, her chosen. And after great battle, she wins out…to the wave and calling…to her intended, great glory!

We can only know God [and destiny] in worship and obedience: two sides of the coin of divine relation.

Thus, the Living God calls each of us to the dance, the wave, with Him. And yes, Jesus still speaks in 21st century calling!

Child, discipleship is not limited to what you can understand – it must transcend all comprehension. Plunge into the deep waters beyond your own understanding, and I will help you to comprehend.

May we join Him there…on the waves, to destiny! Further in and higher up...

Alleluia!

A parable of the wood dove

Behold the birds of the air
by Soren Kierkegaard

Once upon a time there was a wood dove. It had its nest in the fearsome forest, where wonder and apprehension dwelt together, among the erect, lonely trees. But nearby, where the smoke rises up from the farmer’s house, lived some tame doves. The wood dove would often meet a pair of these. He would sit on a branch that stretched out over the farmyard, not far from the two tame doves on the ridge of the roof. One day they were talking together about how things were going and about making a living. The wood dove said, “Up until now I have made my living by letting each day have its own troubles, and in that way I get through life just fine.” The tame dove, not without preening itself, answered: “No, we manage differently; with us, that is with the rich farmer with whom we live, our future is secure. At harvest time, my mate and I sit up on the roof and watch. The farmer brings in so many loads of corn that I know we are secure for a very long time. We two are well provided for and have our guaranteed security.”

When the wood dove returned home he pondered the matter. It occurred to him that it must be a great comfort to know that one’s living was secure for a long time, and what a wretched thing it was to always live in uncertainty. “It would be best,” he told himself, “to gather a great stockpile and store it here or there in some safe place.”

The next morning the wood dove woke earlier than usual.

He got to work right away and was so busy gathering and storing that he scarcely had time to eat. But as fate seemed to hang over him, every time he had collected a little supply and hidden it away, when he came to look for it, it was gone! Meanwhile there was no actual change about making a living. He found his food every day as before. And yet a great change had taken place. He did not suffer actual want, but he had acquired the anticipation of need in the future. His peace of mind was lost.

He had become anxious about the necessities of life.

From now on, the wood dove began to worry. His feathers lost their glint of color, his flight lost buoyancy. He was no longer joyful; indeed, he was almost envious of the rich, tame doves. He found his food each day, ate his fill, and yet he was not satisfied. In worrying about his needs he had trapped himself in a snare in which no birdcatcher could have trapped him, trapped as only a free creature can trap himself. “This securing of the future is constantly on my mind,” he said. “Oh why am I a poor wood dove and not one of those rich ones?”

He saw plainly that anxiety was taking its toll on him, and so he spoke seriously to himself, yet not so seriously that he could drive away the worry from his mind and set his heart at rest. No, he only spoke in such a way that he convinced himself that his care was justified. “I am not asking anything unreasonable or impossible,” he said. “I do not ask to become like the wealthy farmer, but only like one of the rich doves.”

Finally, he contrived a scheme. One day he flew over and sat between the tame doves on the ridge of the farmer’s roof. He noticed a place where they flew in, so he flew in too, because surely the storeroom had to be there. But when the farmer came home in the evening and shut the dovecote, he discovered the strange dove. He immediately put it into a little box by itself until the next day, when it was killed – and released from its worries about the necessities of life! Alas, the worried wood dove had not only trapped himself in worry but also in the dovecote – to its death!

The wood dove is like us silly human beings. When a person is content with the dignity of being human, then he understands that his heavenly Father feeds him. This he learns from the birds of the air. He does not live like the tame birds in the house of the wealthy farmer, but in the house of him who is richer than everyone, for heaven and earth are the house and possession of God, and humankind is his guest.

A person must be content to be as he is; a dependent being, as little capable of sustaining himself as of creating himself. If we choose to forget God and look after our own sustenance, then we are overcome with anxiety. It is certainly praiseworthy and pleasing to God when a person works for his food. But if he forgets God, and thinks that he himself is supporting himself, then he becomes burdened with the necessities of life. Let us not foolishly and small-mindedly say that the wealthy are spared this anxiety, while the poor are not. On the contrary, only he is spared who is content with being human and understands that his heavenly Father feeds him. And this is as possible for the wealthy as is it for the poor.

Worry about making a living, or not making a living, is a snare. In actuality, it is the snare. No external power, no actual circumstance, can trap a person. If a person chooses to be his own providence, then he will go quite ingenuously into his own trap, the wealthy as well as the poor. If he wants to entrench himself in his own plot of ground that is not under God’s care, then he is living, though he does not acknowledge it, in a prison. When the farmer shut the door on the wood dove, the wood dove believed himself to be safe, when in fact he was caught. Or to put it another way, he was shut out from the care of Providence and trapped in a life of anxiety. In a spiritual sense he made himself a captive – trapped himself unto death.

Prayer

Lord, let me be like a wood dove that trusts you, living every day, open to your rain and sun, drinking in your loyal sustenance without fault. And let me live in this trust, open to you as a child that loves and traces the face of Abba in the clouds, seeing you in every sunrise and sunset, in daily details and brilliant evening stars above! In the name of Jesus the Christ, and in your Spirit, I pray...

Amen.

___________________

Soren Kierkegaard, Provocations: Spiritual Writings of Kierkegaard, Compiled and Edited by Charles E. Moore. Reprinted from www.bruderhof.com. Copyright 2002 by The Bruderhof Foundation, Inc. Used with permission.

A paradox of unity and individuality

To draw souls out of isolation
Fyodor Dostoevsky

In his Christ-soaked novel, The Brothers Karamazov, Dostoevsky relates this enigmatic truth: He says that ‘true security is to be found in social solidarity,’ that even though sometimes a person ‘has to do it alone,’ s/he will do so in order to ‘draw other souls out of their solitude.’

Everywhere in these days people have, in their mockery, ceased to understand that the true security is to be found in social solidarity rather than in isolated individual effort. But this terrible state of affairs must inevitably have an end, and all will suddenly understand how unnaturally they are separated from one another. It will be the spirit of the time, and people will marvel that they have sat so long in darkness without seeing the light... But, until then, we must keep the banner flying. Sometimes even if he has to do it alone, and his conduct seems to be crazy, a man must set an example, and so draw other souls out of their solitude, and spur them to some act of brotherly love, that the great idea may not die.

When Dostoevsky says that ‘true security is to be found in social solidarity rather than in isolated individual effort,’ doesn’t this contradict Kierkegaard, who says that the highest goal is to be an individual in the truth, a true person before God?

Not really. Taken in context, both Dostoevsky and Kierkegaard are saying the same thing: only a true individual before God can offer the masses a real path to God. Kierkegaard approaches it by exposing how people hide in the crowd -- perhaps fragmented or isolated in their inner person, but using ‘the family,’ or ‘the church,’ or some other manifestation of the group to deny personal calling. And Dostoevsky approaches it by showing that the goal of the true individual is salvific social solidarity.

In both cases, it is the individual who opens him or herself to the high calling in Christ, who can then show a family and ‘group’ the path into greater glory. In no case does the individual go there for personal glory. And this is the paradox of true individuality: one never becomes an individual to remain alone. S/he seeks then the light for others…

The story of Heliopher
The lover of the Son

Hardy Arnold recounts a Russian legend as told by Maxim Gorky, it is the tale of Heliopher, the lover of the sun, or lover of light, who leads the crowd out of darkness.

Once upon a time there was a race which was lost in a great, dark forest. The trees stood so close together that the light of the sun could not penetrate the thickly entwined branches. There were also numerous wild animals which fell upon the people, especially the children, when they wandered too far from their parents while they were playing. So everyone lived in a constant state of fear of death and destruction, and a hopeless despair took hold of the hearts of the folk.

Continuous…darkness had strangled all the light in their hearts. They could not love one another any more. They even hated and murdered one another in their rage. Yet they were forced to remain together, for it was impossible for any single man to defend himself against the attacks of the wild beasts. They had lost all hope of ever finding their way out of the forest. Many of the young people did not believe in the light they had never seen, and they mocked their elders, when, with a last weak light gleaming in their dim eyes, they recounted tales of the festive, sunny days of their youth.

Among the people however, there was a young man called Heliopher. He was very much alone, grieving over the misery of his people, and seeking a way of salvation. He bore in his heart an endless longing for light and love in the desolation which surrounded him. Heliopher left his people to seek the sun. For many months and years he wandered through the dangers of the forest and of his own soul, and often, very often, nearly lost all hope and confidence. But Heliopher bravely withstood his enemies, whether within himself or around him, and at last he reached the edge of the forest and saw the light of the sun. In terrible amazement he fell into a swoon, and when he awoke he saw in the twilight that he was watched over in his slumber by beautiful people. In the green meadows stood the simple huts of the sun-people, and Heliopher lived with them in peace and endless joy as the most beloved amongst living men.

Then Heliopher went back to the forest to seek his people. “Come, brothers and sisters,” he said to them, “I will lead you to the light.” At this there was murmuring and frowning, wavering and hesitation, wonder and questioning, incredulous laughter, and finally a jubilant “Yes!” And then, at last, the longed-for departure.

Then the light of the sun shone in Heliopher’s eyes, but the way was long and difficult, and demanded much suffering and sacrifice, and murmuring arose among the people. Some spoke and said, “Let us murder him, the betrayer of the people!” And the dark glow of hatred was in their eyes. Others were wiser and said, “No! let us judge him in the presence of all, for it is dangerous to give the people a martyr.” And Heliopher spoke to his people, and talked about light and love. But the wise ones answered, “You lie! There is no light, there is no sun, there is no love. Let us be darker than the forest and more cruel than the wild beasts. Then we shall be masters of the forest!”

Heliopher answered in great pain, “O believe not, ye wise men, that ye can be victorious over darkness by being more dark, that ye can overcome the wild beasts by being more beastly. Only love is stronger. Only the light of the sun can drive away darkness.”

“Be silent!” said the wise men. “There is no light, there is no sun!”

And the people shouted, flinging their arms about in raging despair, “There is no light, there is no sun!”

But Heliopher called out, “Follow me!” Then…he tore open his breast, and his heart burned with love, and it glowed and shed its beams through the dark forest. He took it in both hands, held it high over his head, and strode forth in front of the people.

In reverent wonder and silence the multitude followed the burning heart.

As they came out of the forest, the people ran in jubilation towards the sun, dancing in its loving rays, and loving one another. But Heliopher knelt down at the edge of the forest, and with the last strength of his outstretched arms he held up his loving, pulsing heart to the light of heaven, and gave his last smile to his people.

Alyosha Karamazov
A true individual gives the unity of hope

The story of The Brothers Karamazov is the story of one brother, Alyosha, who goes into the light, following Christ where others will not go…offering his brothers and his world the new world of the Son. Tragedy occurs, yes, but not until the Light has won out. The story ends with Russian street orphans surrounding Alyosha, and crying out, “Hail to the Karamazov!” “Hail to the Karamazov!” But what they really mean, in their own broken way, is a tear-soaked song of faith and hope: “Hail to Thee, O Christ the Lord, who has shown us light in this Karamazov!”

Therein is the meaning of the novel, the meaning of real life, brilliantly summed by Dostoevsky. It is tantalizing. It is existential, and invites each one of us into the story…to be Alyosha in our own stories, and for our world.

For the street orphans are still there. Recent figures put Russian street orphans at 1 million. [1]

And yet, the ‘light has gone out into the darkness, and the darkness will not overcome it.’

Will you be part of the light, the unity of Christ, by becoming a true individual in Christ?

Will you call your people into the Son…by being who you were meant to be?

May it be, may it be!

Alleluia!

_______________________

[1] This is not to mention the orphans of other Eastern European nations. Nor the vast orphaned millions of India, China, Africa, South and Central America...
But the ‘Light has gone out into the darkness, and the darkness will not overcome it.’ How? In you, and in me...in every person who lives his or her potentiality in Christ...

A spacious place

He is wooing you...to a spacious place free from restriction!

The healing of Calvary love

Amy Carmichael, in a night of prayer for a person she loved, heard the whisper in her ear, “If…my daughter!” -- a gentle ‘if,’ followed by phrases of love-soaked wisdom. In such Spirit dialogue, God revealed her heart and her prayers in light of eternity. That night she took a pencil, and recorded these lessons of spirit. In her preface words, “There are times when something comes into our lives which is charged with love in such a way that it seems to open up the Eternal to us for a moment, or at least some of the Eternal Things: and the greatest of these is love…” And the greatest of these is love, indeed…and love shows us eternity, our true home, and true state of heart. Alleluia! I’ve been deeply convicted by Amy’s words, and her beautiful, discomfiting, yet healing analysis of true love: Calvary love. My prayer is to be granted Calvary love, for those I love. May these words bless you, too…

What do I know of Calvary love?
by Amy Carmichael

if…I have not compassion on my
Fellow servant
Even as my Lord had pity on me,
Then I know nothing of Calvary love.

if…I belittle those I am called to
Serve
Talk of their weak points
In contrast perhaps with what I
Think of as my strong points.
If I adopt a superior attitude,
Forgetting “who made thee to
Differ? And what hast thou that
Thou hast not received?”
Then I know nothing of Calvary love.

if…I can easily discuss the shortcomings
And sins of any;
If I can speak in a casual way even
Of a child’s misdoings,
Then I know nothing of Calvary love.

if…I find myself carelessly taking
Lapses for granted,
“Oh, that’s what they always do,”
“Oh, of course she talks like that, he acts like that,”
Then I know nothing of Calvary love.

if…I can enjoy a joke at the expense of
Another;
If I can in any way slight another in conversation,
Or even in thought,
Then I know nothing of Calvary love.

if…I can write an unkind letter,
Speak an unkind word,
Think an unkind thought without
Grief and shame,
Then I know nothing of Calvary love.

if…I do not feel far more for the grieved
Savior than for my worried self
When troublesome things occur,
Then I know nothing of Calvary love.

if…I know little of His pitifulness
(the Lord turned and looked upon
Peter),
If I know little of His courage of
Hopefulness for the truly humble
And penitent
(He saith unto him, ‘Feed My
Lambs.”),
Then I know nothing of Calvary love.

if…I deal with wrong for any other
Reason than implied in the words,
“From His right hand went a fiery
Law for them. Yea, He loved
The people:”
If I can rebuke without a pang,
Then I know nothing of Calvary love.

if…in dealing with the one who does not
Respond,
I weary of the strain, and slip
From under the burden
Then I know nothing of Calvary love.

if…I am perturbed by the reproach and
Misunderstanding that may
Follow action for the good
Of souls for whom I must give
Account;
If I cannot commit the matter and go
On in peace and silence,
Remembering Gethsemane and the
Cross,
Then I know nothing of Calvary love.

if…I cannot catch “the sound of noise
Of rain” long before the rain falls,
And, going to some hilltop of the spirit,
As near to my God as I can,
Have not faith to wait there with
My face between my knees,
Though six times or sixty times I
Am told, “there is nothing,”
Till at last “there arise a little
Cloud out of the sea,”
Then I know nothing of Calvary love!

if…my attitude be one of fear, not faith
About one who has disappointed
Me;
If I say, “Just what I expected,” if a
Fall occurs,
Then I know nothing of Calvary love.

if…I do not look with eyes of hope on
All in whom there is even a faint
Beginning,
As our Lord did, when,
Just after His disciples had
Wrangled about which one of them
Should be accounted the greatest,
He softened His rebuke with those
Heart-melting words, “Ye are
They which have continued with
Me in My temptations,”
Then I know nothing of Calvary love.

if…I cast up a confessed, repented, and
Forsaken sin against another,
And allow my remembrance of that
Sin to color my thinking and
Feed my suspicions,
Then I know nothing of Calvary love.

if…I have not the patience of my
Savior with souls who grow
Slowly;
If I know little of travail (a sharp
And painful thing) till Christ be
Fully formed in them,
Then I know nothing of Calvary love.

if…I sympathize weakly with weakness,
And say to the one who is turning back
From the cross, “Pity thyself;”
If I refuse such a one the sympathy
That braces
And the brave and heartening word
Of comradeship,
then I know nothing of Calvary love.

if…I cannot keep silence over a
Disappointing soul
(unless for the sake of that soul’s
Good or for the good of others it
Be necessary to speak),
Then I know nothing of Calvary love.

if…I can hurt another by speaking
Faithfully without much
Preparation of spirit,
And without hurting myself far
More than I hurt that other,
Then I know nothing of Calvary love.

if…I am afraid to speak the truth, lest I
Lose affection,
Or lest the one concerned should
Say, “You do not understand,”
Or because I fear to lose my
Reputation for kindness;
If I put my own good name before
The other’s highest good,
Then I know nothing of Calvary love.

if…I am content to heal a hurt slightly,
Saying “Peace, peace,” where there is
No peace;
If I forget the poignant word “Let
Love be without dissimulation”
And blunt the edge of truth,
Speaking not right things but
Smooth things,
Then I know nothing of Calvary love.

if…I fear to hold another to the highest
Goal because it is so much easier
To avoid doing so,
Then I know nothing of Calvary love.

if…I hold on to choices of any kind,
Just because they are my choice;
If I give any room to my private likes
And dislikes,
Then I know nothing of Calvary love.

if…I put my own happiness before the
Well-being of the work entrusted
To me;
If, though I have this ministry and
Have received much mercy, I
Faint,
Then I know nothing of Calvary love.

if…I am soft to myself and slide
Comfortably into the vice of
Self-pity and self-sympathy;
If I do not by the grace of God
Practice fortitude,
Then I know nothing of Calvary love.

if…I dominate myself,
If my thoughts revolve around
Myself,
If I am so occupied with myself I
Rarely have “a heart at leisure
From itself,”
Then I know nothing of Calvary love.

if…the moment I am conscious of the
Shadow of self crossing
My threshold,
I do not shut the door,
And in the power of Him who
Works in us to will and to do,
Keep that door shut,
Then I know nothing of Calvary love.

if…I cannot in honest happiness take the
Second place
(or the twentieth);
If I cannot take the first without
Making a fuss about my
Unworthiness,
Then I know nothing of Calvary love!

Prayer for love:

Love through me, Love of God...
Powers of the love of God,
Depths of the heart Divine,
O Love that faileth not, break forth,
And flood this world of Thine!

Alleluia!

For this hurting word, dear Abba, heal me to Calvary love.
For the healing of your little ones, in the name of Your Son,

Amen.

____________________

Amy Carmichael, “If,” (Fort Washington, PA: CLC Publications, 2004), part one: 13-31.

Kierkegaard: Thoughts of love

The reality of love

The more superior one person is to another whom he loves, the more he will feel tempted, humanly speaking, to draw the other up to himself. Divinely speaking, however, the more he will feel moved to come down to him. This is the logic of love. Strange that people have not seen this in Christianity.

By this we can see that love has overcome the world – that it repays evil with good.

It is still the greatest, the roomiest part of the world, although spatially the smallest, this kingdom of love in which we can all be landholders without the need of one person’s property crowding another’s. Yes, rather it extends another’s holdings. On the other hand, in the kingdom of anger and hate – how small it is in its egotistic isolation and how great the space it demands – the whole world is not spacious enough; this kingdom has no room for others.

You talk about wanting to find comfort in Christ. All right, then try this: at the very moment you yourself are suffering most of all, simply think about comforting others, for this is what he did. The task is not to seek consolation – but to be consolation.

People despair about being lonely and therefore get married. But is this love? I should say it is self-love.

“He who sees his brother in need, yet shuts his heart” – yes, at the same time he shuts God out. Love to God and love to neighbor are like two doors that open simultaneously. It is impossible to open the one without opening the other, and impossible to shut the one without also shutting the other.

The distinguishing characteristic of Christian love is that it contains this apparent contradiction – that to love is duty. And yet it is only this kind of love that discovers the neighbor.

The love that has undergone the transformation of the eternal by becoming duty has won continuity; it is sterling silver.

To be busy, to be divided and scattered, to occupy yourself is far from love. Christian love is whole and collected in its every expression, and yet it is sheer action. Consequently it is just as far from inaction as it is from busyness. It never becomes engrossed in anything beforehand and never gives a promise in place of action. It never draws satisfaction from imagining that it has finished, nor does it ever loiter delighting in itself. It is no secret, private mysterious feeling…nor a soul-mood which fondly knows no laws, wants to know none, or wants to have its own law and hearkens only to singing. It is pure action and its every deed is holy, for it is the fulfilling of the law.

Justice avenges itself – love is avenged.

When a fisherman has caught a fish in his net and wishes to keep it alive, what must he do? He must immediately put it in water; otherwise it becomes exhausted and dies after a time. And why must he put it in water? Because water is the fish’s element, and everything that is kept alive must be kept in its element. And what about love? Love’s element is infinitude, inexhaustibility, immeasurability. If you wish to keep your love, you must take care that it remains in its element. Otherwise, it droops and dies – not after a time, but at once, which itself is a sign of its perfection, that it can live only in its element – the infinite.

When sin in a person is encompassed by love, sin is out of its element. It is like a besieged city with all communications cut off. True, sin may use love as an occasion (for what can’t a corrupt person use for corruption!). The sinner can become embittered by love, and rage against it. Yet, in the long run sin cannot hold out against love.

What can take love out of its element? As soon as love concentrates upon itself, as soon as it is an object for itself. Imagine an arrow flying. Imagine that for a second it got a notion of wanting to concentrate on itself, perhaps to see how far it had come, or how high over the earth it skimmed, or how its course was related to that of another arrow. In that very moment the arrow would fall to the earth.

Love is a revolution, the most profound of all but the most blessed! With love, too, there comes confusion. But in this life-giving confusion there is no distinction between mine and yours. Remarkable! There are a you and an I and yet no mine and yours! For without you and I there is no love, and with mine and yours there is no love. This is why love is the fundamental revolution. The deeper the revolution, the more the distinction between mine and yours disappears, and the more perfect is the love. Love’s perfection consists essentially in the depth of the revolution.

Love is perhaps best described as an infinite debt: when a person is gripped by love, he feels like he is in infinite debt. Usually one says that the person who receives love comes into debt by being loved. Similarly we say that children are in love’s debt to their parents, because their parents have loved them first and the children’s love is only a part-payment on the debt or a repayment. This is true, to be sure. Nevertheless, such talk is all too reminiscent of a bookkeeping relationship – a bill is submitted and it must be paid; love is shown to us, and it must be repaid with love.

We should not, then, speak about one’s coming into debt by receiving love. No, it is the one who loves who is in debt. Because he is aware of being gripped by love, he perceives this as being in infinite debt. Remarkable! To be sure, by giving money one does not come into debt; it is rather the recipient who becomes indebted. But when love gives, the one who loves comes into infinite debt. What a beautiful, holy modesty love takes along as a companion!

Consider creation for a moment. With what infinite love God surrounds the great variety which has life and being! Remember the beauty of the fields! There is no, not any, discrimination in love – yet what a variety among the flowers! Even the slightest, most insignificant, the most plain-looking, the poor little flower overlooked even by its closest neighbors, the one you can hardly find without looking carefully, it is as if this, too, had said to love: let me be something with its own distinctive, individual characteristic, but far more beautiful than what the poor little flower had ever dared hope for. What love! First of all, love makes no distinction. Second, which is like the first, it makes infinite distinctions in loving the differences. Wondrous love!

Perfect love is to love the one who made you unhappy.

Unhappiness is not to love without being loved, but to be loved when one does not love.

Suppose that the victim, whom the merciful Samaritan took care of, died in his hands. Then suppose the Samaritan had to report it to the police, and the police had said: Of course we must keep you under arrest for the time being. What then? His contemporaries would have laughed at him for being so stupid as to let himself get into such a scrape. They would think he was crazy. Behold, these are the wages of mercy.

The true consoler is one who suffers and for whom it becomes a consolation to comfort another who is suffering.

Oh our Loving Father, help us remember that it is not where we breathe, but where we love, that we live!

If we were honest, many of us would want to upbraid Christ for putting a man like Judas in charge of the bag. Was it not “irresponsible” of him, seeing Judas had a tendency to pilfering? But we should rather say, “What faith and love on Christ’s part!” For the best means of saving such a man as Judas is to show unconditional confidence in him. If that does not help him, then what will?

What is it that makes a person unwavering, more unwavering than a rock; what is it that makes him soft, softer than wax? It is love.
What is it that cannot be taken but itself takes all? It is love.
What is it that cannot be given but itself gives all? It is love.
What is it that remains when everything falls away? It is love.
What is it that does not cease when the vision ends? It is love.
What is it that sheds light when the dark saying ends? It is love.
What is it that gives blessing to the abundance of the gift? It is love.
What is it that makes the widow’s gift an abundance? It is love.
What is it that turns the words of the simple person into wisdom? It is love.
What is it that is never changed even though everything is changed? It is love;
And that alone is love, that which never becomes something else.

Alleluia!

_____________________

Soren Kierkegaard, Provocations: Spiritual Writings of Kierkegaard, Compiled and Edited by Charles E. Moore. Reprinted from www.bruderhof.com. Copyright 2002 by The Bruderhof Foundation, Inc. Used with permission.

A prayer for raped mothers and babies

Suad Abdalaziz, 28, who was raped and became pregnant
during a attack by the janjaweed in the village of Tawila,
holds her 3-day-old baby girl.
David P. Gilkey, Detroit Free Press

Sudan girls victimized
“If she doesn't marry she may become a prostitute…”

One of the most devastating aspects of the Darfur genocide is the fact that janjaweed gangsters and their Arab backers are using rape as a weapon of ethnic cleansing. The defenseless Sudan men are killed and their young women are raped, left to bear children – children forever branded, raised by stigmatized mothers.

It is a shame/honor culture in which rape devalues the girls’ worth. Not only must they now carry a forced child, but do so in a society that then devalues both child and mother. It is heartbreaking, on all levels.

Sudarsan Raghavan, a Detroit Free Press correspondent, gives an on-site account…from Abu Shouk, Sudan.

ABU SHOUK, Sudan - There were no smiles, no blessings at the birth of the light-skinned girl with the ebony eyes and curly black hair. Not a glimpse of joy. For a family still bleeding from war, the baby was like salt on their wounds.

"My father didn't speak for the entire day," recalled her mother, Suad Abdalaziz, 28, her voice cracking and her face streaming with tears. "He was not angry at me. He was angry at the janjaweed and the government for giving me this baby."

In the troubled province of Darfur, pro-government Arab militias called the janjaweed have raped countless black African women in a campaign that the Bush administration has called genocide.

Now, their babies are emerging across this tableau of human suffering. They are outcasts in a war-scarred society where rape is a source of shame and a father's identity defines the child.

Relatives shun them, seeing in their tiny faces the atrocities committed by their enemies. Mothers struggle to accept them, torn between loyalty to their tribe and their instincts to love and care. Many are resigned to a life of isolation, where marriage is unlikely and where their children will forever carry a stigma.

"These are the babies of the janjaweed," said Hassan Abdallah Bakhur, a tribal elder from the town of Tawilla, 40 miles south of here. “I don't know how we can solve this problem. They and their mothers face a bad future.”

Read Sudarsan's article here.

It is heartbreaking. Adding to the genocide, with hundreds of thousands dead, is this story of mothers and children, still living, yes...but feeling dead inside. It is a story of mass rape, ethnic cleansing, and its grossly destructive aftermath for babies and mothers. As people of faith, can we hold them in our prayers and in our hearts?

A prayer for these mothers and children

A prayer for janjaweed rape babies

O God, we confess that You are Sovereign over the affairs of humankind.
Even when we cannot see your hand, O Lord, we trust your heart, and confess You as Good.
Countless times, Almighty God, You witness to us that You are well able to bring good from evil.
Now, O God, dear Abba of the nations, please hear our prayers for these newborn babies, babies born not of the will of the mother, not of the will of the family, but by cruel acts forced upon defenseless women. O God! Can any good come of such evil?
And now, Lord, you see these dear children, born of no will of their own, into families that see them as lesser beings, reminders of pain. O God! Can any good come of such evil?
We confess You, our Lord, above all these human affairs, God who transcends the most evil acts and our deepest, layered pain.
Hear our hearts, O God, for these babies, and for their mothers.
Raise up among these babies O God, that Moses, born in hated times, who would set his people free!
Raise up among these babies O God, that Esther, who loved her calling more than life!
Raise up among these babies an all consuming love, Love that will perish the deeds of darkness, and find...in that darkest night, a Light to lead the way, into freedom and truth!
O Abba! Good God, our Father in Heaven, hear our prayers! Receive these babies as Your dear children. Receive these single mothers as your dear daughters, Abba! Be to them the husband they may not have, the respect, counsel, wisdom and defense for which they long!
O, dear Father, provide for babies and mothers as only You can! 'Father to the fatherless, Husband to the widow,' that is who You claim to be: now provide, dear Abba --
Provide life and love for them through your Holy Spirit; in the name of Jesus we pray, Amen.

One article from the Common Dreams Center says that the world has turned away, but the Darfur misery goes on. People of faith, is it said of us that we have turned away also?

Let us to our prayers and other actions of love...

Amen.

__________________

Note: I wrote this prayer 11-26-04 and published it on the Parkview blog. I repost it here, by request.

Also see:

Emily Wax, “‘We Want to Make a Light Baby’: Arab Militiamen in Sudan Said to Use Rape as Weapon of Ethnic Cleansing,” Washington Post.

Refugees International, “Stop the Genocide in Sudan.”

Common Dreams Center, “The World Has Turned Away, but Darfur Misery Goes On.”

Where cross the crowded ways

Class, how many of you are orphans? Please raise your hand.

Where cross the crowded ways of life
Frank Mason North, 1903

Where cross the crowded ways of life,
Where sound the cries of race and clan,
Above the noise of selfish strife,
We hear Thy voice, O Son of Man.

In haunts of wretchedness and need,
On shadowed thresholds dark with fears,
From paths where hide the lures of greed,
We catch the vision of thy tears.

From tender childhoods helplessness,
From woman's grief, and burdened toil,
From famished souls, from sorrow's stress,
Thy heart has never known recoil.

The cup of water given for Thee
Still holds the freshness of Thy grace;
Yet long these multitudes to see
The sweet compassion of Thy face.

O Master, from the mountain side,
Make haste to heal these hearts of pain;
Among these restless throngs abide,
O tread the city's streets again!

Till all the world shall learn Thy love,
And follow where Thy feet have trod;
Till glorious from thy heaven above,
Shall come the City of our God!

Consider the cost
Steve Camp

Consider the cost of building a tower
It's a narrow way that you must come
To do the will of the Father
Is to follow the Son
To love Him more than father or mother
To love Him more than your own flesh
To give all that you are, for all that He is
This is the gospel according to Jesus

Whom shall I send?
Isaiah's vision

Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, "Whom shall I send? And who will go for us?"

And I said, "Here am I. Send me!"

Ah, Lord God!

Come near, please make my hands and feet Yours...break my heart to reflect Your beautiful, healing heart...shape my life to share You, dear Savior.

In your name, I pray.

A sign for the heart

Out of doubt, out of dark to the day's rising

A song for the heart

Pelennor Fields

I deem that she yet lives

Imrahil, Prince of Dol Amroth, rode up and drew rein before them.

‘What burden do you bear, men of Rohan?’ he cried.

‘Theoden King,’ they answered. ‘He is dead. But Eomer King now rides in the battle: he is with the white crest in the wind.’

Then the prince went from his horse, and knelt by the bier in honor of the king…and he wept. And rising, he looked then on Eowyn and was amazed. ‘Surely, here is a woman?’ he said. ‘Have even the women of the Rohirrim come to war in our time of need?’

‘Nay! One only,’ they answered. ‘The Lady Eowyn is she, sister of Eomer; and we knew naught of her riding until this hour, and greatly we rue it.’

Then the prince, seeing her beauty, though her face was pale and cold, touched her hand as he bent to look more closely on her. ‘Men of Rohan!’ he cried. ‘Are there no leeches among you? She is hurt, to the death maybe, but I deem that she yet lives.’ And he held the bright-burnished vambrace that was upon his arm before her cold lips, and behold! a little mist was laid on it, hardly to be seen…

Out of dark to the day's rising

Stern now was Eomer’s mood, and his mind was clear again. He let blow the horns to rally all men to his banner that could come thither; for he thought to make a great shield-wall at the last, and stand, and fight there on foot until all fell, and do deeds of song on the fields of Pelennor, though no man be left in the West to remember the King of the Mark. So he rode to a green hillock and there set his banner, and the White Horse ran rippling in the wind.

Out of doubt, out of dark to the day's rising
I came singing in the sun, sword unsheathing.
To hope's end I rode and to heart's breaking:
Now for wrath, now for ruin and a red nightfall!

These staves he spoke, yet he laughed as he said them. For once more lust of battle was upon him; and he was still unscathed, and he was young, and he was king: the lord of a fell people. And lo! even as he laughed at despair he looked out again on the black ships, and he lifted up his sword to defy them.

And then wonder took him, and great joy; and he cast his sword up in the sunlight and sang as he caught it. And all eyes followed his gaze, and behold! upon the foremost ship a great standard broke, and the wind displayed it as she turned toward the Harlond. There flowered a White Tree, and that was for Gondor; but Seven Stars were about it, and a high crown above it, the signs of Elendil that no lord had borne for years beyond count. And the stars flamed in the sunlight, for they were wrought with gems by Arwen, daughter of Elrond; and the crown was bright in the morning, for it was wrought of mithril and gold. The king!

Out of the paths of the dead

Thus came Aragorn son of Arathorn, Elessar, Isilur’s heir, out of the Paths of the Dead, borne upon a wind from the Sea to the kingdom of Gondor; and the mirth of the Rohirrim was a torrent of laughter and a flashing of swords, and the joy and wonder of the City was a music of trumpets and the ringing of bells. But the hosts of Mordor were seized with bewilderment, and a great wizardry it seemed to them that their own ships should be filled with their foes; and a black dread fell upon them, knowing that the tides of fate had turned against them and their doom was at hand.

Let us avenge it, ere we speak of it

And so at length Eomer and Aragorn met in the midst of the battle, and they leaned on their swords and looked at one another and were glad.

‘Thus we meet again, though all the host of Mordor lay between us,’ said Aragorn. ‘Did I not say so at the Hornburg?’

‘So you spoke,’ said Eomer, ‘but hope oft deceives, and I knew not then that you were a man foresighted. Yet twice blessed is help unlooked for, and never was a meeting of friends more joyful.’ And they clasped hand in hand. ‘Nor indeed more timely,’ said Eomer. ‘You come none too soon, my friend. Much loss and sorrow has befallen us.’

‘Then let us avenge it, ere we speak of it!’ said Aragorn, and they rode back to battle together.

The Houses of Healing

She lies within and is not dead

Eomer said, ‘Where is the Lady Eowyn, my sister; for surely she should be lying beside the king, and in no less honor? Where have they bestowed her?

And Imrahil said, ‘But the Lady Eowyn was still living when they bore her hither. Did you not know?’

Then hope unlooked-for came so suddenly to Eomer’s heart, and with it the bite of fear and care renewed, that he said no more, but turned and went swiftly from the hall; and the Prince followed him. And when they came forth evening had fallen and many stars were in the sky. And there came Gandalf on foot and with him one cloaked in grey; and they met before the doors of the Houses of Healing. And they greeted Gandalf and said: ‘We seek the Steward, and men say that he is in this House. Has any hurt befallen him? And the Lady Eowyn, where is she?’

And Gandalf answered, ‘She lies within and is not dead, but is near death…’ And they were filled with fear and wonder at the tale that he told.

But Imrahil said, ‘So victory is shorn of gladness, and it is bitter bought…’ ‘Shall we not send now for the Lord Aragorn?’

And the cloaked man spoke and said, ‘He is come.’ And they saw that as he stepped into the light of the lantern by the door that it was Aragorn, wrapped in the grey cloak of the Lorien above his mail, and bearing no other token than the green stone of Galadriel…

Then Gandalf said, ‘Let us not stay at the door, for the time is urgent. Let us enter! For it is only in the coming of Aragorn that any hope remains for the sick that lie in the House. Thus spake Ioreth, wise-woman of Gondor: The hands of the king are the hands of a healer, and so shall the rightful king be known.’

The hands of the king

Aragorn came to Eowyn and said: ‘Here is a grievous hurt and a heavy blow. The arm that was broken has been tended with due skill, and it will mend in time, if she has the strength to live; but the chief evil comes through the sword-arm. In that there now seems no life, although it is unbroken.

‘Alas! For she was pitted against a foe beyond the strength of her mind or body. And those who take a weapon to such enemy must be sterner than steel, if the very shock shall not destroy them. It was…doom that set her in his path. For she is a fair maiden, fairest lady of a house of queens…

Then Aragorn stooped and looked in her face, and it was indeed white as a lily, cold as frost, and hard as graven stone. But he bent and kissed her on the brow, and called her softly, saying:

‘Eowyn Eomund’s daughter, awake! For your enemy has passed away!’

She did not stir, but now she began again to breathe deeply, so that her breast rose and fell beneath the white linen of the sheet. Once more Aragorn bruised two leaves of athelas and cast them into steaming water; and he laved her brow with it, and her right arm lying cold and nerveless on the coverlet.

Then, whether Aragorn had indeed some forgotten power of the Westernesse, or whether it was but his words of the Lady Eowyn that wrought on them, as the sweet influence of the herb stole about the chamber it seemed to those who stood by that a keen wind blew through the window, and it bore no scent, but was an air wholly fresh and clean and young, as if it had not been before breathed by any living thing and came new-made from snowy mountains high beneath a dome of stars, or from shores of silver far away washed by seas of foam.

‘Awake, Eowyn, Lady of Rohan!’ said Aragorn again, and he took her right hand in his and felt it warm with life returning. ‘Awake! The shadow is gone and all darkness is washed clean!’

Your watch hath not been in vain

Sing now, ye people of the Tower of Anor,
for the Realm of Sauron is ended for ever,
and the Dark Tower is thrown down.

Sing and rejoice, ye people of the Tower of Guard,
for your watch hath not been in vain,
and the Black Gate is broken,
and your King hath passed through,
and he is victorious.

Sing and be glad, all ye children of the West,
for your King shall come again,
and he shall dwell among you
all the days of your life.

And the Tree that was withered shall be renewed,
and he shall plant it in the high places,
and the City shall be blessed.

Sing all ye people!

Sing, all ye people!

Autumn sunrise

And he lifts up his arms in a blessing for being born again

A mystical autumn walk

The mystical light of God

After an autumn forest walk, my mind is on the majesty of God.

I’ve drunk deeply of the mystical sunlight of God, and am still full from the draught. How wonderful is God, the creation He has made? How unworthy am I to enjoy it, and yet…and yet...was it not made for me, and I for it?

I sing the mighty power of God that made the mountains rise,
That spread the flowing seas abroad and built the lofty skies.
I sing the goodness that ordained the sun to rule the day;
The moon shines full at God’s command and all the stars obey!

Since childhood I’ve had a recurring dream, where I walk to the back portion of my yard, or property, and there discover a vast forest, opening from my home and bounded only by my imagination…yet somehow safe, and blessed and filled with the goodness of God.

And, I experienced something like that, on this walk. Holy mystery!

A spacious place, free from restriction

I walked a soft forest trail until it opened to a field, stands of red and white oaks, maples and cherries and scrubs giving way to waving prairie grass. And then I found an old, grown-over gravel road on the edge of the field, which led then to a vista of mingled fields and grass and trees, panorama which followed this road for miles…pure beauty and creation dancing in autumn sunlight.

I was alone with the animals and scenery, ‘walking with God in the cool of the day.’

I walked and worshipped, tracing the flight of dove and hawk, and myriads of songbirds and squirrels. Several deer danced in front of me, surprised to see me…one young doe ran a few yards away, turned around and looked at me as if to say, “And what are you doing in my kingdom?” It was, if I may be so bold as to say it…a very female look! And I just laughed, and bowed and walked around her area with care.

A friend, wild at heart

As I retraced my steps, measuring the miles back to my truck, I noticed an animal several hundred yards across a field…along the woodline. At first I thought it was a deer, and then as I grew closer, I realized it was a large dog. It was hunting in the edge of the wood and field, moving and stalking with ease. It noticed me, and a game of hide and seek began. It ducked into the woods, and then popped back out to see me…looking for all the world like an overgrown puppy, ears alert and eyes questioning…sort of cross between a German Shepherd and some other dog. I whistled, and it ducked back into the woods…only to re-emerge several yards closer. Each step brought us closer…and I whistled again. This time, s/he seemed tempted to run toward me. Perhaps half-wild and mistreated…I could have made a friend of it, if I would have had the time. We played this little game of respect, and finally I saluted it and continued my return, and it continued its hunt.

Two deer and a silent companion

I walked back along the road, with the sun dipping close to the trees, and hills spotted in shadow and sun. And there, in the sloping autumn sun, the magic of the walk continued: Two buck deer walked out ahead of me, gradually feeding out of the forest and unto the road…heading for the clover of the field. I slowed my steps, wind in my face, and walked up behind them – every drop of latent Native American blood in my veins now surging, on call! And there, God must have smiled looking down on us. The three of us walked along the same road for awhile: both of them casually following the road instead of crossing it directly, and me stalking silently behind them, wondering just how long before they scented me…a little, unlikely parade of God’s creatures! They both were beautiful animals, one a young six point and the other an older eight point. I moved in time with them…when they would step, so would I; if they swung their heads to the side, I would halt, and melt into the scenery. And so the parade-dance persisted…until they decided to leave the road for the field.

They finally walked into the field, turning sideways to the road. Now I knew the game was up, as they would surely spot me – in my blue jeans and black t-shirt, and forest green hooded shirt slung across my back, but not on me. And sure enough, as they moved a few yards into the field, they saw me. Talk about surprise! They thought themselves all alone, and then wow! What was this behind them? Animals can register the funniest expressions, sometimes! I almost laughed out loud…but now the game was at a new level. I was on their turf, and did not want to frighten them. And yet, I had to walk their direction, past them, if I would make my truck before nightfall. So, I continued my slow pace, keeping my head down as if I had not seen them. I knew that if I made eye contact they would be gone…so walked slowly and steadily toward them on the road. Both of them were frozen: the young buck standing alert and tall, every muscle tense; the older buck crouching down in the tall grass, making himself ‘invisible.’ And so I walked…watching them with peripheral vision, taking care not to break my soft stride…

And it worked! I walked past them, only a few feet away…and they let me pass without taking one step away or jumping up in fright. What a dance! It was exhilarating, a brief touch of man and animal in the autumn mists…

I walked about 70 yards past them, and could no longer resist – I turned, and made full eye contact with the younger buck. He quivered as if he’d been shot! I laughed, silently and gladly. He remained still and we measured one another in respect. He sensed that I meant him no harm, and calmed. I smiled then, laughing gladly and turned back to the road…feeling the ancient, lost call of Adam.

Worship under an oak tree

I walked into the sun, and then turned back into the forest edge, where the trail met the first field. There, I lay down under a majestic oak, and watched the sun paint the leaves in varied hues: what glory! Have you ever noticed the watercolor pastels that the autumn sun paints on autumn leaves, shining in muted, yet glorious display?

There, I looked up, beyond oak leaves, into the sky…a deepening blue, and gave thanks. For a moment, I was one…with God and His good order, receiving and casting myself to the dance as a child on the waves. The sunlight played upon me, as squirrels vied for the acorns…and a gentle dove rested in the heights. And I gave thanks.

For a moment, such a brief moment, I felt the order of Adam…to care and enjoy creation under God, and so serve God in the act, fully…a glory to God in the highest!

Be praised for all Your tenderness by these works of Your hands
Suns that rise and rains that fall to bless and bring to life Your land
Look down upon this winter wheat and be glad that You have made
Blue for the sky and the color green that fills these fields with praise!

Silver moon and silent song

With only the barest light to see, I made it back to my truck. And I started out…only to be stunned into silence by a harvest moon, rising full, just above the trees, painting the scene with silver brush of evening hues…

Ah, the beauty and majesty of God! Did ever Artist paint with more majestic brush? Does He not know what He is about? Is He not painting our lives with the same care, and brilliance? “Jesus is the Master painter, and the Holy Spirit is the Master’s brush…to be dipped in the colors that portray the Father’s love…”

And the moon is a sliver of silver
Like a shaving that fell on the floor of a Carpenter's shop
And every house must have it's builder
And I awoke in the house of God
Where the windows are mornings and evenings
Stretched from the sun
Across the sky north to south
And on my way to early meeting
I heard the rocks crying out
I heard the rocks crying out

Be praised for all Your tenderness by these works of Your hands
Suns that rise and rains that fall to bless and bring to life Your land
Look down upon this winter wheat and be glad that You have made
Blue for the sky and the color green that fills these fields with praise

And the wrens have returned and they're nesting
In the hollow of that oak where his heart once had been
And he lifts up his arms in a blessing for being born again
And the streams are all swollen with winter
Winter unfrozen and free to run away now
And I'm amazed when I remember
Who it was that built this house
And with the rocks I cry out!

Be praised, Abba! Son! Spirit!

Alleluia!
Alleluia!
Alleluia!

Amen.

Moses and the Lobster

Moses and the Lobster

Discomfort, growth and joy

Rabbi Abraham J. Twerski highlights a spiritual principle from the life of Moses…with a lobster! Commenting on Deuteronomy 31:2, Twerski references the Rebbe of Gur, who said that Moses lived for only one reason: to fulfill his mitzvos [religious duties] and grow spiritually.

Moses pleaded to be allowed to enter the Holy Land so that he could do these mitzvos. When his pleas were turned down and he saw that there was no way he could further grow spiritually anymore, he accepted death. For Moses, a life that was without spiritual growth was not worth living.

Moses believed in spiritual growth, and in relation with joy. Moses taught that simchah [joy] was an ‘essential component of the Divine service.’ In Deuteronomy 28:47, he warned the Israelites of ‘dire consequences that would befall the person, “Because you did not serve G-d with joy.”

Twerski notes that the Hebrew word same'ach [happy] is related to and perhaps derived from the same source as tzome'ach [growth]. He concludes: “True happiness can come only from growth, especially spiritual growth. A life devoid of spiritual growth is devoid of simchah.” And here Twerski illustrates inner life with a lobster.

There is an important message in the relationship of Some’ach to tzome’ach. Elsewhere I have cited the Talmud that we should learn some things from observation of nature (Eruvin 100b). We might learn from nature by observing how lobsters grow.

Lobsters are confined within a rigid shell. As the lobster grows, the shell becomes too confining and oppressive. It then sheds its shell and grows a more spacious one. As the lobster continues to grow, each new shell eventually becomes oppressive, leading to the formation of a larger one. The stimulus that enables the lobster to grow is the discomfort it feels when its shell becomes oppressive. If the lobster would not feel discomfort, it would remain forever tiny.

Growth is often accompanied by discomfort. “For with much wisdom comes much suffering” (Ecclesiastes 1:18). Yet, tzome'ach is related to same'ach. Hence, there can be simchah even when one experiences discomfort. This is why we find that our great tzaddikim (the truly righteous) welcomed suffering. The spiritual growth that was stimulated by the discomfort more than compensated for the suffering.

This lesson of spiritual growth related to discomfort [path to mystical joy] is all the more important because it is often lost on our generation. Our world relates happiness with comfort, and so flees from real joy…the simchah contained in spiritual growth.

We live in an era where scientific advances have given us unprecedented comfort in living. Western civilization has become essentially hedonistic. Whereas it is perfectly normal to seek relief from pain, we are at risk of rejecting all types of discomfort, including those that are the stimuli for spiritual growth. If we eschew spiritual growth because of the discomfort that may accompany it, we may also be lessening the amount of true simchah that we can achieve.

Rabbi Twerski closes the lesson with this moral:

On the day of his death, Vayeilech Moshe, Moses progressed. Moses had one last opportunity for growth, to fulfill the mitzvah of giving reproof and blessing.

Moshe Rabbeinu, Moses our teacher. He taught us and continues to teach us that growing…is the source of true simchah.

It is ours to receive this reproof of Moses, and in the reproof find mysterious blessing!

Moses’ lobster as judge of Christendom

This lesson of Moses and the lobster stands in stark reproval of modern Christianity. Frankly, many Christians [and churches] have reduced faith to what is reasonable, and reduced calling to what comes easy, through ‘open doors.’

I say this in confession: I speak from the inside, as a product of my time, as one who subconsciously bought into this easy formula of Christendom…on several levels. It is only through a painful, long prayer journey that I have come to see the lie in this comfortable package. We’ve reduced divine calling to platitudes of communal and family expectation…and called it ‘wisdom.’ We’ve reduced the terrible, vital joy – true awefulness of God – into fun, and codified it into such doctrine that comfort is our new creed. We’ve taken Aslan – who is not a tame Lion – and de-clawed Him to fit our hedonistic Christianity. In this theme, Kierkegaard asks a searching question: “Will God put up with this?”

In talking with a pupil, a teacher sometimes expresses himself in lower terms while meaning something higher, but he does so in such a way that the pupil understands it. He says, for example, “Tomorrow will be a fun day” and means by this that it will be a rigorous day with much to do, which in a certain higher sense can also be fun. But suppose that a pupil takes the liberty of pretending he did not understand and loafs all day long. When the teacher rebukes him he answers, “Didn’t you say that tomorrow should be a fun day?” Would the teacher put up with this?

So it is with Christianity. In His majestic language God has proclaimed a great joy to us – a great joy. Yes, God cannot speak in any other way about the high goal He has for us.

And what is Christendom? Christendom is a tricky boy who pretends he does not understand what God meant but thinks that since it is a great joy the task must be to enjoy life thoroughly. Does God put up with this?

According to Kierkegaard, the Christianity that uses [utilizes] eternity to give flavor to this life, without consistently ordering this life in eternity, has already sold out to the world.

The world does not want to eliminate Christianity, it is not that straightforward, nor does it have that much character. No, it wants it proclaimed falsely, using eternity to give a flavor to the enjoyment of life.

That is where we find ourselves in Christendom. We’ve created a system to guard ourselves against calling…and the divine joy it brings.

What purports to give greater satisfaction, namely, the reduction of Christianity to comfort, and reduction of God’s will to ease and ‘open doors,’ is actually the means by which the highest joy is postponed. How? Because it is the means by which growth is denied. It denies the Christian her highest rooms intended by grace, by telling her in very reasonable terms that God never intended that struggle for her…nor called her to it because it is hard! Thus Kierkegaard says, “Christianity is proclaimed in Christendom in such a way that obedience is taken away and reasoning put in its place.”

It is here that a holy lobster becomes a spiritual guide.

True joy comes in growth and growth in discomfort…the discomfort of divine calling.

And…the next time you sit down for lobster, let this lesson echo in your heart. And obey.

For here is your joy!

Amen.

___________________

Cf. Abraham J. Twerski, "Moses and the Lobster: True Happines Can Only Come through Growth," Jewish World Review.
Cf. Soren Kierkegaard, "Christendom and Counterfeit Christianity," Provocations: the Spiritual Writings of Kierkegaard, edited by Charles E. Moore.