Category: Christianity

It Is Good…

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(credit for this poem is given below)

Until God says “Light” all matches stay box
-stashed. Then Boom. Ever since, night,
day, night. Never two nights in a row.
God says It is Good. Day One. Backstage
Clipboard Angel (that’s me) says Good
is not good enough. Some day a hard
-ass atheist will claim it’s random.

Day Two. God rolls up his monogrammed
sleeve, pushes water aside and hauls
out land. The flourishes are mine: tundra,
marshes, quicksand, mangrove islands.
Without stepping out for a smoke,
I poke tubers, rysomes, and seeds
in soil. Blow dandelions and toss
maple whirligigs so they can
have their fun before settling down.

When God opens the Day Three box,
trees pop out. Because Yours Truly
packed the Day Three Box on Day Two.
Am I the only one who knows atheists
will second guess, double check?
Sloppiness feeds the Aha gotcha frenzy.

Day four, God says, Run to the store and get
all the helium and hydrogen they have.
Sun and moon. It is Good. Blah blah blah.
It’s supposed to be my day off, but I know
I have to make eggs for Day Five, so what’s the diff?

Day Five is Bird-Fish-Beast day. Birds
Day Five means eggs Day Four. Scary
to think what would happen without me.

Day Six he makes atheists and I lose it.
I actually throw my clipboard. I know
I’m overworked, under listened to. I say
wait a day. Rest. He says I’ll rest after
I make atheists. He’s Mr. Big Picture.
I’m Mr. Yelled At If Things Go
South. I put in for overtime—first
time all week. Sidekicks get no sick days.
~Paul Jolly, “Creation Story” from Why Ice Cream Trucks Play Christmas Songs

Rodin – Eve
Adam – Alexei Kazansev
Man with a broken arm – by David Marshall
Degas – Dancer Looking at the Sole of her Foot
Hope by Scott Emory
AI image created for this post

Hardly random.

What we see and hear and taste and feel every day is directly from the hand of the Creator, working overtime.

Those who don’t believe came from Him and through Him.
He meant them to be.

God saying ‘It is good” is good enough.
It is good to work hard, and then rest.

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When We Arise: Overcome with Goodness

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In the real world of pain, how could one worship a God who was immune to it?
~John Stott from “The Cross of Christ”

With all that happens daily in this disordered world, in order to even walk out the door in the morning, I fall back on what we are told in God’s Word, in 365 different scripture verses for each and every day of the year:

Fear not.

Do not be overwhelmed with evil but overcome evil with good.

And so – we must overcome — despite our fears in this world of pain.

As demonstrated by the anointing of Jesus’ feet by Mary of Bethany, we must do what we can to sacrifice for others, to live in such a way that death cannot erase the meaning and significance of a life. We are called to give up our own selfish agendas in order to consider the needs of others.

It is crystal clear from Christ’s example as we observe His journey to the cross next week: we are to cherish life -all lives- even unto death. As Christ Himself forgave those who hated and murdered Him, He forgives us as well.

Our only defense against the evil we witness is God’s offense through His Love. Only God can lead us to Tolkien’s “where everything sad will come untrue”, where we shall live in peace, walk hand in hand, no longer alone, no longer afraid, no longer shedding tears of grief and sorrow, but tears of relief and joy.

No longer overcome by evil but overcome with goodness, all to God’s glory.

This Lenten season I reflect on the words of the 19th century southern spiritual hymn “What Wondrous Love is This”

The Lord our God is good
The Lord our God is good
Full of kindness and compassion
Merciful and just
The Lord our God is good
Who else knows our deepest pain
Bears it as his own
Finds us in our naked shame,
Clothes and brings us home
Who takes his inheritance
And gives it all away
Welcomes guests to feast with him
Who never can repay

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Laid Aside His Crown: So Take Heart

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We were promised sufferings. They were part of the program. We were even told, ‘Blessed are they that mourn.’

The real problem is not why some pious, humble, believing people suffer, but why some do not.
C.S. Lewis ~~writing on suffering in The Problem of Pain

The Christian has never been promised a pain-free existence. No one escapes suffering, no matter how strongly they believe in God. It is what we signed up for.

How could an all-powerful all-knowing God allow suffering, especially in innocent children? This is a standard argument used against the existence of a beneficent God. The reasoning is — if abundant suffering and evil is allowed in the world, no merciful God is in control.

Yet that reasoning sets aside gospel reality:
God identifies so strongly with His Creation, He allows His own suffering and death.

He mourns. He weeps. He hurts. He bleeds. He dies. Just like us.

What all-powerful all-knowing God would do that?
Our God would, because He is first and foremost a loving God who makes imperfection perfect again. Then He defeats death to ensure our eternal union with Him.

No, there isn’t a “no pain” guarantee –neither God nor even the natural world ever promised that. But only our God promises “no stain” –that we are washed clean for eternity by His shed blood.

In the midst of our sadness and mourning, that is our greatest comfort of all.

Mourning by Umberto Boccioni

For just as we share abundantly in the sufferings of Christ, so also our comfort abounds through Christ.
2 Corinthians 1:5

I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.
John 16:33

This Lenten season I reflect on the words of the 19th century southern spiritual hymn “What Wondrous Love is This”

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And Through Eternity: Facing the Storm

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A front of thunderstorms had sought you out.
It vowed to run a diabolical
black line through all that you were sure about—
the ordinary, sane, the sensible.
You raced to get the loose stuff off the lawn,
with purpose rearranged and stacked the chairs,
relieved, almost, when the phenomenon
of gray-green storm clouds simplified your cares.
And though it couldn’t miss, it kind of did.
Darkness at noon gave way to sun at one.
Catastrophe and doom had been short-lived.
Embarrassed that your fears were overblown,
you faced your mundane day-to-day concerns,
vaguely upset that normalcy returns.
~Robert Crawford “Squall”

Beneath our clothes, our reputations, our pretensions,
beneath our religion or lack of it,
we are all vulnerable both to the storm without
and to the storm within.
~Frederick Buechner – from Telling the Truth

I watch the storm fronts roll in, threatening my outside and inside: heavy damaging winds, thunder and lightning, torrential unpredictable rains, mudslides, horrible forest fires destroying what is familiar and routine.

Inside my own head, the storm clouds of news headlines overpower day-to-day mundane concerns: devastating wars and violence, crime and protests, homelessness, rampant starvation and disease, man’s ongoing inhumanity to man.

I want to hide under a rock until the storms inside and outside blow over.

In the midst of the tempest — while wars rage on the planet, while a bitter election season is underway — a miracle may be wrought.
Brilliant light exposes how heaven weeps from heavy clouds. A rainbow touches the earth in holy promise.

God assures His people: this storm too will pass, even the storms of our own making. Darkness is overcome by Light.

Painting of snowy Cascades by John Hoyte

He stilled the storm to a whisper;
    the waves of the sea were hushed.
They were glad when it grew calm,
    and he guided them to their desired haven.
Psalm 107:29-30

This Lenten season I reflect on the words of the 19th century southern spiritual hymn “What Wondrous Love is This”

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I’ll Sing and Joyful Be: In Brokenness and Need

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Suddenly I knew,
when we stood in a circle
holding hands;
suddenly I knew,
that because of the circle,
because of friendship,
because of love—
yes, and because of the brokenness,
and the need—
I have been
in heaven
all
my life.
~Carol Bialock “I Used to Think Heaven was Future” from Coral Castles

The church, I think, is God’s way of saying,
“What I have in the pot is yours,
and what I have is a group of misfits
whom you need more than you know
and who need you more than they know.” 

“Take, and eat,” he says,
“and take, and eat,
until the day, and it is coming,
that you knock on my door.
I will open it, and you will see me face to face.”

He is preparing a table.
He will welcome us in.
Jesus will be there, smiling and holy,
holding out a green bean casserole.
And at that moment, what we say, what we think, and what we believe will be the same:
“I didn’t know how badly I needed this.”
~Jeremy Clive Huggins from “The Church Potluck”

…when I experienced the warm, unpretentious reception of those who have nothing to boast about, and experienced a loving embrace from people who didn’t ask any questions, I began to discover that a true spiritual homecoming means a return to the poor in spirit to whom the kingdom of heaven belongs.
~Henri Nouwen from The Return of the Prodigal Son

The journey begins when Christians leave their homes and beds. They leave, indeed, their life in this present and concrete world, and whether they have to drive 15 miles or walk a few blocks, a sacramental act is already taking place…

For they are now on their way to constitute the Church, or to be more exact, to be transformed into the Church of God. They have been individuals, some white, some black, some poor, some rich, they have been the ‘natural’ world and a natural community. And now they have been called to “come together in one place,” to bring their lives, their very world with them and to be more than what they were: a new community with a new life.

We are already far beyond the categories of common worship and prayer. The purpose of this ‘coming together’ is not simply to add a religious dimension to the natural community, to make it ‘better’ – more responsible, more Christian. The purpose is to fulfill the Church, and that means to make present the One in whom all things are at their end, and all things are at their beginning.
~ Father Alexander Schmemann from For the Life of the World

We’ve been through fire, we’ve been through pain
We’ve been refined by the power of Your name
We’ve fallen deeper in love with You
You’ve burned the truth on our lips

Rise up church with broken wings
Fill this place with songs again
Of our God who reigns on high
By his grace again we’ll fly
~Robin Mark from “Shout to the North and the South”

photo by Barb Hoelle

There is so much wrong with the modern church,
comprised as it is
of fallen people
with broken wings
determined to find flaws in each other
in doctrine, tradition, beliefs.

What is right with the church today,
is when it offers a taste of heaven for
hopeful people who come together
in sanctuary, barn and field, eucharist table and potluck,
to hold each other up in prayer
and to sing in worship
to the Three in One,
who is why we sing,
whose body we are part of
and who, in our need, loves and forgives us
despite our motley messiness:
Our Lord of Heaven and Earth.

I appeal to you, brothers and sisters, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, that all of you agree with one another in what you say and that there be no divisions among you, but that you be perfectly united in mind and thought.
1 Corinthians 1:9-10

This Lenten season I reflect on the words of the 19th century southern spiritual hymn “What Wondrous Love is This”

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The Sunrise Shall Visit Us: Blossoming For Him

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He who has come to men
dwells where we cannot tell
nor sight reveal him,
until the hour has struck
when the small heart does break
with hunger for him;

those who do merit least,
those whom no tongue does praise
the first to know him,
and on the face of the earth
the poorest village street
blossoming for him.
~Jane Tyson Clement

In the somber dark
of a near-solstice morning,
when there appears no hope for sun or warmth,
I hunger for solace only He can bring.

He calls me forth from my hiding place,
buried face down from the troubles of the world,
burrowed deep in quilt and pillows,
fearing the news of the day.

Only God glues together
what evil has shattered.
We must hand Him the shards
of our broken hearts.

His offered hand bloodied
by lifting us from the darkness~
into a growing light,
where together we burst

into untimely blossom.

Advent 2023 theme
…because of the tender mercy of our God,
whereby the sunrise shall visit us from on high 
to give light to those who sit in darkness
and in the shadow of death,
to guide our feet into the way of peace.
Luke 1: 78-79 from Zechariah’s Song

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A Common Hand

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Because what’s the alternative?
Because of courage.
Because of loved ones lost.
Because no more.
Because it’s a small thing; shaking hands; it happens every day.
Because I heard of one man whose hands
haven’t stopped shaking since a market day in Omagh.
Because it takes a second to say hate, but it takes longer,
much longer, to be a great leader.
Much, much longer.

Because shared space without human touching
doesn’t amount to much.
Because it’s easier to speak to your own
than to hold the hand of someone whose side
has been previously described, proscribed, denied.
Because it is tough.
Because it is tough.
Because it is meant to be tough, and this is the stuff of memory,
the stuff of hope, the stuff of gesture, and meaning and leading.
Because it has taken so, so long.
Because it has taken land and money and languages
and barrels and barrels of blood.

Because lives have been lost.
Because lives have been taken.

Because to be bereaved is to be troubled by grief.
Because more than two troubled peoples live here.
Because I know a woman whose hand hasn’t been shaken
since she was a man.
Because shaking a hand is only a part of the start.
Because I know a woman whose touch calmed a man
whose heart was breaking.
Because privilege is not to be taken lightly.

Because this just might be good.
Because who said that this would be easy?
Because some people love what you stand for,
and for some, if you can, they can.
Because solidarity means a common hand.
Because a hand is only a hand; so hang onto it.

So join your much discussed hands.
We need this; for one small second.
So touch.
So lead.
~Pádraig Ó Tuama “Shaking Hands”

Nothing is new about conflicts over borders and religion and politics. What is new is the ability of an individual to share the terror and hatred to the rest of the world in mere seconds. We all become unwitting witnesses to human pain and suffering, eager to take sides if we can bear to watch.

We each share a common hand. We need leaders who reach out to touch one another with more than words. They represent the human beings who lost limbs and lives in the battle for supremacy.

Historic handshakes are never meaningless, but even more vital is a connection between humans steeped in historical hatreds. We need to reach out and help lift each other’s burdens.

Take my hand. Look in my eyes. Even for one small second.

Sculpture by Artist Albert Gyorgy

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Making a Comment

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And that is just the point…
how the world, moist and beautiful,
calls to each of us to make a new and serious response.

That’s the big question,
the one the world throws at you every morning.
“Here you are, alive.
Would you like to make a comment?”
~Mary Oliver

The last few days, it has been impossible to stay
a silent observer of the world when one awakes,
still alive on a morning moist and beautiful,
while on the other side of the earth,
innocents have been brutally butchered in their beds,
whole families murdered,
bodies desecrated and dragged into the street.

It demands a response.

I cannot remain speechless in the face of evil.
Such violence, fed by generations of hatred,
begets more hatred and violence, on and on.
It festers, blusters, rips apart, tortures, buries.
And so it goes, an ongoing human history
of wars and more wars.

And here I am,
alive on a brilliant autumn morning,
while others immeasurably suffer.

Called to make a new and serious response.
Called to comment, as I do every day.
Knowing my voice is only one
in a vast wilderness of voices,
crying out in lament over the dead and dying.

Lord, have mercy, have mercy, have mercy on us.

Consider donations to assist humanitarian aid
to Save the Children or Doctors without Borders

The Fire and Rose Are One

barnstormingblog3 Comments

The soul’s sap quivers. There is no earth smell
Or smell of living thing. This is the spring time
But not in time’s covenant. Now the hedgerow
Is blanched for an hour with transitory blossom
Of snow, a bloom more sudden
Than that of summer, neither budding nor fading,
Not in the scheme of generation.
Where is the summer, the unimaginable Zero summer?

We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.
Through the unknown, unremembered gate
When the last of earth left to discover
Is that which was the beginning;

And all shall be well and
All manner of thing shall be well
When the tongues of flames are in-folded
Into the crowned knot of fire
And the fire and the rose are one.
~T.S. Eliot – from “Little Gidding” from the Four Quartets

To think that this meaningless thing was ever a rose,
Scentless, colourless, this!
Will it ever be thus (who knows?)
Thus with our bliss,
If we wait till the close?

Though we care not to wait for the end, there comes the end
Sooner, later, at last,
Which nothing can mar, nothing mend:

An end locked fast,
Bent we cannot re-bend.
~Christina Rossetti “Summer is Ended”

As a 3rd grader in November 1963, I learned the import of the U.S. flag being lowered to half mast in response to the shocking and violent death of our President. The lowering of the flag was so rare when I was growing up, it had dramatic effect on all who passed by — 

our soul’s sap quivers

— something very sad had happened to our country, something or someone had tragically ended, warranting our silence, our stillness, and our grief.

For the twenty-two years since 9/11/01, our flag has spent significant time at half mast, most often due to our own home-grown mass shooting terrorism. When I see it flying low, I’m befuddled instead of contemplative, puzzling over what the latest loss might be as there are so many, sometimes all happening in the same time frame. We no longer are silenced by this gesture of honor and respect; we certainly are not stilled when personally and corporately instigating and suffering the same mistakes against humanity over and over again.

We are so bent. Will we ever be mended again?

Eliot wrote these prescient words of the Four Quartets in the midst of the WWII German bombing raids that destroyed so many people and neighborhoods. Perhaps he sensed the destruction he witnessed would not be the last time in history that evil visits the innocent, leaving them in ashes. There would be so many more losses to come, not least being the horror of 9/11/01.

There remains so much more sadness to be borne, such abundance of grief. Our world has become overwhelmed and stricken. Yet Eliot was right: we have yet to live in a Zero summer of endless hope and fruitfulness, of spiritual awakening and understanding. Where is it indeed? When will the summer Rose of beauty and fragrance rise again?

We must return, as people of faith to Eliot’s still point to which we are called on a remembrance day such as today. We must be stilled; we must be silenced. We must grieve the losses of this turning world and pray for release from the suffering we cause and we endure. Only in the asking, only in the kneeling down and pleading, are we surrounded by God’s unbounded grace.

Only then will His Rose bloom, once again recognizable.  

“Zero Summer” imagines the unimaginable horror of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, and yet points to epiphanic awakening that transcend human imagination at the same time. T.S. Eliot, who coined this term in his “Four Quartets,” longed for that eternal summer, birthed out of the “still point,” where imagination is met with grace and truth.
~Makoto Fujimura

“There Are No Words” written on 9/11/2001
by Kitty Donohoe

there are no words there is no song
is there a balm that can heal these wounds
that will last a lifetime long
and when the stars have burned to dust
hand in hand we still will stand because we must

in one single hour in one single day
we were changed forever something taken away
and there is no fire that can melt this heavy stone
that can bring back the voices and the spirits of our own

all the brothers, sisters and lovers all the friends that are gone
all the chairs that will be empty in the lives that will go on
can we ever forgive though we never will forget
can we believe in the milk of human goodness yet

we were forged in freedom we were born in liberty
we came here to stop the twisted arrows cast by tyranny
and we won’t bow down we are strong of heart
we are a chain together that won’t be pulled apart

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Fixing Eyes on the Unseen – Everything Sad is Going to Come Untrue

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He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away. And he who was seated on the throne said, “Behold, I am making all things new.” Also he said, “Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true.  Revelation 21: 4-5

“Gandalf! I thought you were dead! But then I thought I was dead! Is everything sad going to come untrue?”
~J.R.R. Tolkien as Samwise Gamgee wakes to find his friends all around him in The Lord of the Rings

“The answer is yes. And the answer of the Bible is yes. If the resurrection is true, then the answer is yes. Everything sad is going to come untrue.”
~Pastor Tim Keller’s response in a sermon given in an ecumenical prayer service memorial in Lower Manhattan on the fifth anniversary of Sept. 11.

photo by Joel De Waard

In our minds, we want to rewind and replay the sad events of this week in a way that would prevent them from happening in the first place.

We want those in a broken relationship to come back together, hug and forgive. The devastating diagnosis would be proven an error and, in reality, only a transient illness. When a terrible tragedy happens, we want the dead and injured to rise up again. The destructive earthquake becomes a mere tremor, the flooding tsunami is only one foot, not over thirty feet tall, the hijackers are prevented from ever boarding a plane, the shooter changes her mind at the last minute and lays down her arms, the terrorist disables his suicide bombs and walks away from his training and misguided mission.

We want so badly for it all to be untrue. The bitter reality of horrendous suffering and sadness daily all over the earth is too much for us to absorb. We plead for relief and beg for a better day.

Our minds may play mental tricks like this, but God does not play tricks. He knows and feels what we do. He too wants to see it rewound and replayed differently. He has known grief and sadness, He has wept, He has suffered, He too has died in terrible humiliating and painful circumstances. 

And because of this, because of a God who came to dwell with us, was broken, died and then rose again whole and holy, we are assured, in His time, everything sad is going to come untrue.

Our tears will be dried, our grief turned to joy, our pain nonexistent, not even a memory.  It will be a new day, a better day–as it is written, trustworthy and true.

May it come.

Quickly.

photo by Nate Gibson

This year’s Lenten theme:
So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.
2 Corinthians 4: 18