An Advent Threshold: Nothing But Light

(Jesus said) I have come to bring fire on the earth, and how I wish it were already kindled!
Luke 12:49

Earth’s crammed with heaven,
and every common bush afire with God
~Elizabeth Barrett Browning from “Aurora Leigh”

It is difficult to undo our own damage…
It is hard to desecrate a grove and change your mind.
The very holy mountains are keeping mum.
We doused the burning bush and cannot rekindle it;
we are lighting matches in vain under every green tree. 

~Annie Dillard from Teaching a Stone to Talk

Nine Kinds of Blindness
1. The one where your eyes do not work to see anything.
2. The one where your eyes do not work to see everything.
3. The one where your eyes work, but you cannot see what you have never seen before.
4. The one where your eyes work but you cannot see what is inconvenient.
5. The one where your eyes work but someone is keeping you from using them.
6. The one where your eyes work but you are angry.
7. The one where your eyes work but you are afraid.
8. The one where your eyes work but there is no light.
9. The one where your eyes work but there is nothing but light.

~Paul Pastor “Nine Kinds of Blindness” from  Bower Lodge

I need to turn aside and look, blinded as I am,
to see, as if for the first and last time,
the kindled fire that illuminates even the darkest day
and never dies away.

We are invited, by no less than God Himself,
through the original burning bush that is never consumed
to shed our shoes, to walk barefoot and vulnerable,
and approach the bright and burning dawn,
even when it is the darkest midnight,
even when it is a babe in a manger who kindles a fire in each one of us.

Only then, only then
can I say:
“Here I am! Consume me!”

My 2025 Advent theme:
On the threshold between day and night

On that day there will be neither sunlight nor cold, frosty darkness. 
It will be a unique day—a day known only to the Lord—

with no distinction between day and night. 
When evening comes, there will be light.
Zechariah 14:6-7

So once in Israel love came to us incarnate, stood in the doorway between two worlds, and we were all afraid.
~Annie Dillard in Teaching a Stone to Talk

Within our darkest night,
you kindle the fire
that never dies away,
that never dies away.
Within our darkest night,
you kindle the fire
that never dies away,
that never dies away.
~Taize

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Aiming for the Chopping Block

Aim for the chopping block.
If you aim for the wood, you will have nothing.
Aim past the wood, aim through the wood;
aim for the chopping block.
~Annie Dillard from The Writing Life

photo by Josh Scholten

Over seventeen years ago, I decided to aim for the block on this website of reflections, as if words were wood and pictures were kindling. I started storing up cords of words and pictures, chopping away every day in case I’d need this storehouse of fuel in the future.

As a result, my ax needs constant sharpening.

I have ended up with a quite a pile of over 5000 posts strewn about my feet due to random chopping. I’ve been drenched in sweat at times, some complain about the noise I make, and I’ve garnered my share of blisters and splinters.

I’m readying for when the weather gets cold and the nights long.

It is not that the world needs another blog post or another book —
instead I keep a focused aim, chopping by keeping my eye on the block, cutting through and past the wood. Writing is something to do because I feel better when I do it. What I store up here will keep us warm when life gives us chills.

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The Chopping Block

photo by Josh Scholten
photo by Josh Scholten

Aim for the chopping block. If you aim for the wood, you will have nothing. Aim past the wood, aim through the wood; aim for the chopping block.
~Annie Dillard from The Writing Life

Almost a year ago, I decided to aim for the block daily on this website of reflections, as if words were wood and pictures were kindling.  I have ended up with a quite a pile of almost 1000 blog posts strewn about my feet due to my random chopping, having been drenched in sweat at times, and garnered my share of splinters.

The reason for writing daily came after I learned that a well-respected publisher’s interest in printing a collection of my work had fizzled with dwindling resources for creating hard copy books, particularly for new authors.  There needs to be assurance of selling at least 3000 copies of a book for a publisher to break even.

I could offer no such assurance.  This blog, on a “good” day, gets 120 visitors.

So I’ve started storing up the wood of words and pictures, chopping away every day in case I’ll need this storehouse of fuel in the future.  It is not that the world needs another blog post but that I need to keep aiming, keep chopping and keep my eye on the block, cutting through and past the wood.  This is something I do because I feel better when I do it, like the redemption of aching muscles after a work out.

My ax needs constant sharpening and I keep my aim focused.   The days are shortening.