Tag: forgiveness

Rather Be a Hammer

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frost125143I’d rather be a hammer than a nail
Yes, I would, if I could, I surely would…
~Simon and Garfunkel from “El Condor Pasa”

If I had a hammer,
I’d hammer in the morning,
I’d hammer in the evening,
All over this land,
I’d hammer out danger,
I’d hammer out a warning,
I’d hammer out love between,
My brothers and my sisters,
All over this land.
~Lee Hays, Pete Seeger

Strangely enough~
it is the nail,
not the hammer,
that binds together
creating the strength
the safety
the permanence of
foundation and roof.

The hammer is only a tool
to pound the nail in
where it is most needed
where it won’t be forgotten
where the hole it leaves behind
is a forever reminder
of what I, as hammer, have done
and how I am forgiven.

 

Places in the Heart

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frost1411

Man has places in his heart which do not yet exist,
and into them enters suffering,
in order that they may have existence.
~Leon Bloy

I see these new heart chambers forming every day.
Spaces filling overwhelmed as if water frozen,
with hurt
and loss
and despair.
So I try
to help patients let go of
their suffering,
let it pass, let its ice melt down,
allow it to pass through,
forgiving, forgiven,
their hearts changed
by a grace
flowing warm
from new found gratitude.

Hiding Nothing

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changedpriorities
You can hide nothing from God.
The mask you wear before men will do you no good before Him.
He wants to see you as you are,
He wants to be gracious to you.
You do not have to go on lying to yourself and your brothers,
as if you were without sin;
you can dare to be a sinner.
~Dietrich Bonhoeffer from Life Together

One of my Monday morning jobs in our college health clinic is to meet with any student who got so intoxicated they had to spend part of the weekend in the emergency room.  Alcohol poisonings are distressingly common on all college campuses, and ours is no exception.   What I do during our morning-after visit is review the records with the student so they have some idea what took place before they woke up hours later on a gurney in a noisy smelly emergency room– alcohol is an effective amnesia-producing anesthetic when it doesn’t manage to outright kill its consumer.   It is a humbling experience to read about what one said and did while one was under the influence of intoxicants and yet have no memory of any of it.   That is why my time is well spent with the recovering and remorseful.   Not only does their stomach lining still burn from all the vomiting, but their head hurts from acknowledging the risks they took in the name of having a good time.  It is rare that I ever need to meet again with the same student about similar behavior.

This, in reality,  is a very effective kind of hurting, one that is crucial to future decision-making: dangerous behavior is far less appealing when one still carries the scars.  Priorities change for the better.

Today I won’t be able to work in several hundred now-sober students into this morning’s clinic schedule after the unfortunate and widely publicized events that happened just a couple blocks off our college campus a little over 24 hours ago.  I suspect most of the students involved remember more than they wish to about their participation in a big-block-party-gone-terribly-wrong.  They were part of an aggressive mob mentality threatening law enforcement personnel trying to disperse an increasingly rowdy and obnoxious crowd.  Some are finding themselves in video and Instagram/Facebook documentation of their profane words and gestures, throwing potentially lethal objects, vandalizing private and city property as well as causing thousands of dollars of city resources to confront out of control drunk rioters.   These students can try to lay low but there is no place to hide from their inner knowledge of what they have done, the part they played and the irreparable damage they caused to individuals, relationships, property and as well as the reputations of the city and the university.  There is no comforting alcohol amnesia to hide within this time.

The only possible healing from an event like this is to come clean about what one has done, admit the mistakes made and work to make it right no matter the cost — to dare to acknowledge the sins committed and accept the consequences of one’s actions.

Hiding is cheap — guilt and shame remain behind the mask.
Grace and forgiveness is costly but there is no longer need to hide and be eaten away by a continually hurting soul.

My prescription for this day and in the days to come:  changed priorities ahead.  College is about obtaining a valuable and precious education, not about finding the biggest and best party of intoxicants.

Take with food and a large dose of humility.

The Land of Tears

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drops2It is such a secret place,
the land of tears.
~Antoine de Saint-Exupery

Sometimes not so secret.

Sometimes the landscape of tears is right there for all the world to see, hiding in plain sight, camouflaged by transparency.
Sometimes they glisten jewel-like under the sun, appearing more like fire than water.
May these teardrop sparks dry in place without a trace, self-extinguishing in forgiveness.

Gems remembered, lost in time, and let go.drops3Nobody deserves your tears,
but whoever deserves them will not make you cry.
~Gabriel Garcia Marquezdrops4I always knew looking back on my tears would bring me laughter,
but I never knew looking back on my laughter would make me cry.
~Cat Stevensdrops

Let Them Be Left

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abouttobloom

 

What would the world be, once bereft
Of wet and wildness?
Let them be left,O let them be left, wildness and wet,
Long live the weeds and the wildness yet.
~Gerard Manley Hopkins from “Inversnaid”

 

Maybe I identify with weeds as I too have grown a bit “excessive” in mid-life, growing unnecessarily and a bit fluffier than I need be.  Maybe I admire their ability to thrive where they land, resilient through all sorts of trials and deprivation.  Certainly they deserve appreciation for their wildly unique characteristics and their perfect imperfections.  Once I get to know them,  their beauty brings me joy.

I can only hope I too can be left,  my over-proliferation shown grace, my greediness granted mercy.

gonetoseed

 

In nature, nothing is perfect and everything is perfect.
~Alice Walker

 

lotsaweeds

 

…if the simple things in nature have a message you understand,
Rejoice, for your soul is alive.
~Eleanora Duse

 

weedybarn

Weeds are flowers too, once you get to know them.
~A. A. Milne

closedfist

 

…make no mistake:  the weeds will win; nature bats last.
~Robert M. Pyle

 

weedybarn2

With a Final Heartbeat

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hibiscus3Weak and wounded sinner
Lost and left to die
O, raise your head for love is passing by

Come to Jesus
Come to Jesus
Come to Jesus and live

Now your burden’s lifted
And carried far away
And precious blood has washed away the stain

So sing to Jesus
Sing to Jesus
Sing to Jesus and live

And like a new born baby
Don’t be afraid to crawl
And remember when you walk sometimes we fall

So fall on Jesus
Fall on Jesus
Fall on Jesus and live

Sometimes the way is lonely
And steep and filled with pain
So if your sky is dark and pours the rain

Then cry to Jesus
Cry to Jesus
Cry to Jesus and live

Ohh, and when the love spills over
And music fills the night
And when you can’t contain your joy inside

Then dance for Jesus
Dance for Jesus
Dance for Jesus and live

And with your final heartbeat
Kiss the world goodbye
Then go in peace, and laugh on glory’s side

And fly to Jesus
Fly to Jesus
Fly to Jesus and live

Fly to Jesus
Fly to Jesus
Fly to Jesus and live
~Chris Rice “Untitled Hymn”  (click link to hear this hymn which was sung at Linda’s funeral)

Our little church family lost one of its own last weekend.  Linda wasn’t in her usual seat last Sunday morning, which was notable.  When a family member later couldn’t reach her on the phone,  it was discovered she had slept all the way to heaven sometime in the night.

Hers had been a final heartbeat that only God knew would happen, and when.

We miss our sister in Christ and she was missed again this morning as we sang and prayed and heard God’s Word to us; we miss her gentle smile and her ready willingness to help whenever needed.  We miss her dedication to a Savior who, by His grace,  reshaped her life from self to selfless service and sacrifice.   We miss her love and caring for the rest of us who worshiped alongside her.

Yet we are comforted by what she has left behind: the flower gardens around our church that Linda tended faithfully for years, the crocus and tulip bulbs we know will come up next spring as they will continue to do, to remind us of renewal and resurrection.  Linda got down on her knees to work the soil to create beauty, falling on her knees in gratitude for forgiveness she had known and been shown.  She cried, she sang, she danced, and now, now she has flown to Jesus long before we were ready for her to leave.

We raise our tearful faces to see her love passing by.

Go in peace, Linda.  You have found joy on glory’s side.

queenannes

star

A Little Tepid Pool

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photo by Josh Scholten
photo by Josh Scholten
I know what my heart is like
      Since your love died:
It is like a hollow ledge
Holding a little pool
      Left there by the tide,
      A little tepid pool,
Drying inward from the edge.
~Edna St. Vincent Millay “Ebb”
My mother was my age when my father left her for a younger woman.  For weeks my mother withered, crying until there were no more tears left, drying inward from her edges.
It took ten years, but he came back like an overdue high tide.   She was sure her love had died but the tepid pool refilled, the water cool to the touch, yet overflowing.

Lenten Grace — Washed Clean

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Jesus washing the feet of his disciples by Finnish artist Albert Gustaf Edelfelt
Jesus washing the feet of his disciples by Finnish artist Albert Gustaf Edelfelt

What e’er the soul has felt or suffered long,
Oh, heart! this one thing should not be forgot:
Christ washed the feet of Judas.
~George Marion McClellan
from “The Feet of Judas” in The Book of American Negro Poetry 1922

As an aide in a rest home caring for the crippled feet of the elderly,
as a medical student in an inner city hospital seeing the homeless whose socks had to be peeled off carefully to avoid pulling off gangrenous toes, as a doctor working with the down and out detox patients from the streets who had no access to soap and water for weeks,

I’ve washed feet as part of my job.

People always protest, just as Peter did when Jesus started to wash his feet.
We never believe our feet,
those homely gnarled bunioned claw-toed calloused parts of us,
deserve that attention.

We are ashamed to have someone care about them, care for them, when we don’t care enough on our own.

I have never washed the feet of someone about to betray me, leading me to my death.

I have never had my feet washed by someone who understood my heart needed cleansing even more than my feet, who loved me that much.

Until now.

This one thing should not be forgot:
Kneeling, He wears the humility and towels of a servant as His only raiments. He gently cups our heels in His palms, washes and dries our soles and arches and toes, but our hearts are held, still beating,  in His loving hands.

sculpture by Mark Greine
sculpture by Mark Greine

Lenten Grace — Serene Forgetting

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photo by Josh Scholten
photo by Josh Scholten

There will be rest, and sure stars shining
Over the roof-tops crowned with snow,
A reign of rest, serene forgetting,
The music of stillness holy and low.
~Sara Teasdale

May we sit in silence,
content to know
the heavenly realms
circle slowly above us,
continuous and consistent,
in reign of rest fulfilled
in His serene forgetting our sins
and forgiving our flaws.
We hear Him now,
still and low,
saying our name,
inviting us to rest
with Him and
in Him
forever.

photo by Josh Scholten
photo by Josh Scholten