It's a phrase thrown around quite a bit. "The church is not the place, but the people," say many, and they are right.
But in my heart, such a catchy phrase is evidence of just a quick glance at the surface of waters that really ought to be carefully trolled. These words should convey a responsibility that is, in fact, rarely attached to them. If contemplated with the mental energy due it, this idea of purpose behind divinely-appointed community should strain the heart and prompt compassionate action; certainly it should sober the imagination and afflict the conscience.
But I find that things relating to the heart of God often fall into this category. When I was young, I wondered how someone could be "burdened" in prayer such that they could disappear for hours into prayer on behalf of various causes dear to the heart of God. I would desire that same fervor, that same committment. But a few minutes into my prayer time, and I would have exhausted both my tidy lists: that of familiar needs and that of foreign topics and cultures, religions and countries...and I would sit there, reverently wondering what to do next.
As I've grown, I've learned to ask God for specific things to awaken my heart to the things that are dear to Him. For example, just today, I came across both the following verse and the following news report. Over these and their juxtaposition in my spirit life--over this I could sit for some time in communion with God, but it would strain my heart, a thing that never really happened in former prayer postures.
First, here is a picture of what I'd say was a previously common exposure to one of these "truths" dear to God:
I stand in a sunlit room, dressed in finery, looking down at a gold-leaf book--the Word of God--in my hands as someone in gracious robes at the front of the room elegantly recites the words while I either read along silently or else join the speaker in quietly murmured, carefully paced choral reading. I am not hungry, as I had ample breakfast before I came here. I am not hot or cold, as the central air regulates the temperature well in this sanctuary. I am not despised by any of those around me (see again reference to none of us being hot or cold.) And I faintly consider the words inspired by God, words that really only register with me intellectually and historically,but not vitally and personally.
I Peter 2:18-23
Submission to Masters
see also (Is. 53:7-9)
18 Servants, be submissive to your masters with all fear, not only to the good and gentle, but also to the harsh. 19 For this is commendable, if because of conscience toward God one endures grief, suffering wrongfully. 20 For what credit is it if, when you are beaten for your faults, you take it patiently? But when you do good and suffer, if you take it patiently, this is commendable before God. 21 For to this you were called, because Christ also suffered for [fn6] us, leaving [fn7] us an example, that you should follow His steps:
22 "Who committed no sin,
Nor was deceit found in His mouth"; [fn8]
23 who, when He was reviled, did not revile in return; when He suffered, He did not threaten, but committed Himself to Him who judges righteously; 24 who Himself bore our sins in His own body on the tree, that we, having died to sins, might live for righteousness--by whose stripes you were healed.
But here is the question: what do I feel about these verses? Not just what do I understand, but what prompt to action is locked in them, and what discourse with God is begged by them? Sadly, very little. At best, according to the carefully crafted and gently presented supplications of the pastor who "comments" on this text just presented, I might bend myself to feel a flicker of gratitude that such a state of affairs is not common in my life. I might also hear a brief aside to the fact that "such is not the case for all peoples--this freedom we take so much for granted." So I might also feel just the right amount of stab to my conscience to make me repent my false sense of deserving the good life I live. Also, I might feel a little shame over some of the complaining I've done recently. Then, as long as the service does not overstep its timely boundaries, I'll refrain from complaining about anything that transpired that morning while I eat a hot and diverse and well-seasoned--not to mention healthy--lunch at a restaurant where I will neither prepare nor clean up after my meal. I will go home, take a refreshing nap, and then allow my spirits to fall slightly as I anticipate the demands a new week will soon put upon me and as I consider the horrific stresses I feel are part of the fabric of my life. So viewed, it is easy to see why this is a life that breeds absolutely no context from which to lift others in marathon intercessory prayer.
But then, even in this life of mine, I might consider these verses another way. I might read these verses as part of my pre-dawn daily Bible reading. I might put it to God to bring them alive for me. He might give me a single story or two in the morning news: a woman who is "a rape victim who was sentenced to lashes and jail time for being in a car with a man who was not her relative." Did the media put a spin on that story to draw up my horror like threads of taffy? Or, was this woman actually sentenced to painful punishment for being too weak to fight off her assailant and thereby keep herself out of the car wherein he raped her? The King intervened on her behalf, says the story; but my heart cries out about her status as a criminal in this case, was this not a deep injustice? Then the thought comes to me: "Use this as the framework on which you re-read those verses." Suddenly, I realize afresh and with a sober mind just how fragile could be my blessings with regards to justice. Much broader is my sense of potential suffering for one who had "done good" yet could by a literal interpretation of law, be nonetheless condemned. Afresh, I believe in the benefits of my own country's justice system, that it is graced even yet with Solomon's wisdom. Though this justice system is certainly not perfect, it nevertheless takes great pains to insure that the weakest members of society are not trampled under the penalties of a law that they literally are incapable of upholding. Never mind the farce of judge shows on television. The true halls of justice still carry the hope of goodness revealed and protected even as harm and prideful aggression are recognized and punished.
Then I read of another woman whose marriage was annulled by the petition of her tribal cousins after her father died, the same father who originally gave the marriage his blessing. He blessed the marriage for (in my mind) the right reasons: the man was a fine upstanding man, he and this father's daughter were in love. Over time, their marrige bore two children. But then when that father died, these cousins presented to the courts that the marriage should be invalid for (in my mind) the wrong reasons: their own tribal reputation was diminished by this marital association with the husband's tribe, a tribe of lesser influence and respect. The father's sanction of the marriage died with him. Granted I see it with a Western eye, I do not deny it, but it appears to me that the marriage was born by the ascendance of love and dignity bestowed as a blessing by the nearest authority figure. It now suffers death by the ascendance of pride and arrogance in family members too distant to have any but selfish motives. "Look again at what you consider bottom line principles, and realize they can sink much lower than your imagination ever entertained as possibilities," says the God who prompts my prayer life. The woman lives now separate from her husband and one of her children (who lives with the father) while they all await the ruling of the court of appeals. It is for the court to pronounce the legitimacy of their children, children born in good faith by their parents that they were not of bastard stock. Now with these thoughts plaguing her mind, this woman would prefer to die if her marriage is termed invalid. So I ponder, what makes a marriage valid? How does this contrast with the flippant disrespect we have (in our own culture) for having been given the privilege of self-determined marriage? Are any of us coming to You, mighty Alpha and Omega, with thanks and respect, with supplication for wisdom before entering into this mysterious oneness that first gave hope to the death-condemned Adam and Eve when once they birthed a child, the hope of life even out of death when once man and wife become one?
Now I have the context by which I can beseech Thee with groanings that are beyond words for me. I can go into my prayer closet, fall on my knees and spend the better part of a day just on these verses. I could leave that closet at dusk and still feel like I'd barely dipped a cupful from the oceans of prayer potential, a cup to lift to You in my efforts to pray Your will into existence on this dry planet.
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Prayer and Prophetic Dreaming...the panorama
For the last two years, I've been telling the kids at the school where I work they are living out a re-telling of the panoramic history seen from cover to cover in God's Holy Book. I'd say it is for the sake of instructing the angels...Peter speaks of topics that are "things which angels desire to look into..." in 1 Peter 1. And Paul in Ephesians 3 talks about the mystery of the church, "...to the intent that now the manifold wisdom of God might be made known by the church to the principalities and powers in the heavenly places according to the eternal purpose which He accomplished in Christ Jesus, our Lord..." A couple of years ago I stumbled on this idea that angels watch us not only so they might protect us, but also so they might learn more about the God they serve. We are God's sermon illustrations; the resource library stocked by His own hand, and the poetic metaphors in His sonnets. The concept revolutionized my perception of the "why" behind some of those more inscrutable things of life. That being given as an opening postulate, I have done my share of theorizing on what is happening in the place where I work.
Here are a few of the parallels that have already been accomplished:
*When the high school first came into being where I work, the primary discipline system was based on a list of rules and consequences. The idea was that the efficacy of the system would make discipline issues easily resolved.
AND, God recognized a chosen people and gave His law to these people that they might keep it in covenant with Him.
*By mid-year, so many students had such extensive files of infractions that daily visits to the detention hall and weekly stints in Saturday school still would not suffice to cover the full penalty they owed. Therefore, the principal (a man I then began to see as the Christ-figure in the scenario of our school) on a single day in a chapel service, completely wiped the slate clean of all infractions for all students, stunning them all. He also established a new covenant with them, one in which any future infractions would still be examined against the school's discipline policies, which did not change, however the penalties assigned for these infractions would be mutually examined by student, teacher and principal. Relationship would play a new part in governing the particular penalty assigned for such discipline issues, and growth would be more feasible.
AND--God, in recognition of the fact that the law gave people awareness of their sin but did not provide them with an escape from its penalties, as their inability to operate under the system of the law left them with too great a debt, provided salvation through His son, Jesus Christ,who in the singular and stunning act of dying upon the cross, became an instrument of grace and redemption. Thereafter, relationship with Him developed a person's freedom for discipleship and gave access to eternal life to every person who would accept that relationship.
*The high school entered its second year, and as it did so, the student body became adamant about their desire for student government. Student-led prayer groups sprang up and student-to-student tutoring became more prominent. Also, a new teacher joined the staff who had strong roots in the pentecostal church, a strong background in Christian education and was also a local pastor.
AND--God sent the Holy Spirit at Pentecost. Likewise, the church began to grow into its role as joint heirs with Christ, receiving the commission to do "even greater things" than He had done in His days walking the earth as a man.
*The school occupies a large wooded campus. The high school was at first housed across campus from the elementary school, with a large pond between. Due to the blessing of a building program that expanded the initial school facility, the high school could join the side of campus that had first served as school property and that houses the school's sponsoring church home. One fine spring day, the student body carried everything across to the joint facility, and everyone thereafter was schooled on the same side of campus. No more remote classes and long walks across campus in foul weather for the high school students, those representing the people of God. This happened right near the end of the second year of existence for this high school.
AND--God said through Paul that one day both the branches grafted in and the original branches that were were cut out, all these would one day come together, and the union would be glorious, and a blessing to both Jews and Gentiles. Ezekiel, too, spoke of how the two houses of Judah and Joseph would combine and be as one house--an alliance between God's peoples. And I wondered if our small metaphor-story weren't moving into territory that represented days that are yet to come in the larger world picture? That we were stopped in our move by a tardy visit from a fire department building inspector--that we were allowed to equip the rooms but not inhabit them...all this seemed to be "instructive" in nature.
Now we walk the third year of the high school's life, and we move even deeper into the domain of that which has not yet happened:
*The high school principal, due to extenuating circumstances, had to move his residency onto campus for a while, occupying a house on the grounds.
AND--Christ says He will return again and be with His people.
*For a good three weeks this fall, a small tree, recently landscaped into the area just outside the school's back door, was a curiosity. Its leaves died away early, but did not fall off. One leaf, however, remained a bright emerald green. One leaf, alone at the tip of the bottom branch.
*AND--God said there would be an era when an apostate church would be widespread, but a remnant would be preserved.
Here the clear parallels break down. And we enter the arena of those things which have not yet happened in either domain: neither on our campus nor in the global sense, I have one thought that haunts me, and has ever since I first began "seeing" this panoramic retelling of God's history with His people. Two years ago I had a dream in which I made a trek around Alaska. At about 4 pm on the clock dial (that is as if the map of the state were the face of a clock) trouble hit the school. One student fell and when he hit the ground, his head exploded and so did his hand. The rest of the student body was paralyzed with shock at this boy's injury, and my husband and I ran up to begin CPR and to call 911. Now this winter, a young man decided to tell the students a story about the false god Dagon. In OT Bible stories, the Ark of the Covenant was stolen from the Hebrews by the Philistines. They decided to set it up in their own temple in company with their own god, Dagon. Over the course of a couple of nights, the statue of Dagon was found to have fallen over, with its head and hands broken off. Just after hearing this statue story told to them, the students in that chapel were reminded that at the end of the story when the Jews got the Ark back, they built a monument to God, raised their Ebenezer of recognition that God was their help. Then these chapel kids were given the opportunity to use Lego's to raise their own Ebenezer. Some chose to and some didn't, but the comment most adult teachers made was that the junior high kids were the first to go up and build. I remembered the verses that speak of children leading, of truth being revealed to babes...and the younger ones taking the initiative made the Ebenezer in the era of the apostate seem like this panoramic story is still unfolding, although very little of it is now so easily recognizable.
*One last thing. I recently felt the urge to go to the high school principal and pray that his prayer life where it related to the school would be consecrated by God. Like in the story of Joshua's battle against the Amalekites,which went well as long as Moses, hidden from them up on a high hill, stood with his hands lifted in dependence on God, of similar effect would be this Principal's prayer life. Though no one might know his prayers' content, structure, or purpose, I believed those prayers he would raise in his prayer closet would make a large difference in the days ahead for our school. Now as I think about Christ, our Mediator, who is absent from us but seated at the right hand of the Father, I see now why it is significant how this Principal's private prayer life is, in itself, a thing instructive and appropriately significant, particularly when his prayers are lifted in an intercessory mode.
As for the one part of the dream that had not yet come clear, I may finally have an idea why the dream was set in Alaska. It was a last puzzle piece that made no sense. I talked about it once with P. (the man I described as representative of the Holy Spirit in our school's story) when he asked me, "Do you think that was it?" and this said regarding a troubling situation with a student about a year ago. I said, "No, I don't think it is finished yet. I never learned what the Alaska part was all about. And usually something undefined represents a timing issue. I don't "see" the reason for something because it is not yet time to look for the actual events. But a connection will "appear" when the time really does draw near." Such a thing has now happened.
Recently, a movie came out called, Juno. The movie is about teenage pregnancy, and Juneau (different spelling but same sound) is the capital of Alaska. So now I ponder and I pray. Are we looking at the possibility of a teenage pregnancy at our school? It would certainly be enough to stop the other students, stunned, in their tracks. Also, I suddenly remembered that the first time I ever heard P. speak in chapel he raised dry statistics about the frequency and prevalence of teenage sin. To give it a little more substance/make it more real...he said, "That means, one of you (sweeping his hand across his view of the room) will be pregnant before you graduate. And we'll still be here for you." At the time, I thought it was simply a reality-check intended to keep them engaged. Now I wonder if it was more than that. Tomorrow, the kids will have a chapel service that puts a guest speaker from the Crisis Pregnancy Center in front of them. Though it has been a year and a half since he talked of pregnancy to them during that chapel, I believe it is nevertheless also him, P., who arranged for this visit by a guest speaker from the CPC. It would be in keeping with his role as Holy Spirit--first announcing the truth, later making resources available for navigating the trials of life associated with that truth. And that the prayer-cover of the the Christ-figure here might need to increase in its intercessory sensitivity, well this too is perfectly logical.
Of course, I can't label any of this last bit factual. But, I've watched it happen before: these elusive threads weaving together to become "facts" in this world. I'm quickened enough in my spirit that I'm certainly going to pray for that chapel service. And I'm going to thank God, for what a wonder it is that He would choose, in His sovereign wisdom, to allow us the corporate honor of being His story-tellers in conveying yet again, the Word of truth and life!
Here are a few of the parallels that have already been accomplished:
*When the high school first came into being where I work, the primary discipline system was based on a list of rules and consequences. The idea was that the efficacy of the system would make discipline issues easily resolved.
AND, God recognized a chosen people and gave His law to these people that they might keep it in covenant with Him.
*By mid-year, so many students had such extensive files of infractions that daily visits to the detention hall and weekly stints in Saturday school still would not suffice to cover the full penalty they owed. Therefore, the principal (a man I then began to see as the Christ-figure in the scenario of our school) on a single day in a chapel service, completely wiped the slate clean of all infractions for all students, stunning them all. He also established a new covenant with them, one in which any future infractions would still be examined against the school's discipline policies, which did not change, however the penalties assigned for these infractions would be mutually examined by student, teacher and principal. Relationship would play a new part in governing the particular penalty assigned for such discipline issues, and growth would be more feasible.
AND--God, in recognition of the fact that the law gave people awareness of their sin but did not provide them with an escape from its penalties, as their inability to operate under the system of the law left them with too great a debt, provided salvation through His son, Jesus Christ,who in the singular and stunning act of dying upon the cross, became an instrument of grace and redemption. Thereafter, relationship with Him developed a person's freedom for discipleship and gave access to eternal life to every person who would accept that relationship.
*The high school entered its second year, and as it did so, the student body became adamant about their desire for student government. Student-led prayer groups sprang up and student-to-student tutoring became more prominent. Also, a new teacher joined the staff who had strong roots in the pentecostal church, a strong background in Christian education and was also a local pastor.
AND--God sent the Holy Spirit at Pentecost. Likewise, the church began to grow into its role as joint heirs with Christ, receiving the commission to do "even greater things" than He had done in His days walking the earth as a man.
*The school occupies a large wooded campus. The high school was at first housed across campus from the elementary school, with a large pond between. Due to the blessing of a building program that expanded the initial school facility, the high school could join the side of campus that had first served as school property and that houses the school's sponsoring church home. One fine spring day, the student body carried everything across to the joint facility, and everyone thereafter was schooled on the same side of campus. No more remote classes and long walks across campus in foul weather for the high school students, those representing the people of God. This happened right near the end of the second year of existence for this high school.
AND--God said through Paul that one day both the branches grafted in and the original branches that were were cut out, all these would one day come together, and the union would be glorious, and a blessing to both Jews and Gentiles. Ezekiel, too, spoke of how the two houses of Judah and Joseph would combine and be as one house--an alliance between God's peoples. And I wondered if our small metaphor-story weren't moving into territory that represented days that are yet to come in the larger world picture? That we were stopped in our move by a tardy visit from a fire department building inspector--that we were allowed to equip the rooms but not inhabit them...all this seemed to be "instructive" in nature.
Now we walk the third year of the high school's life, and we move even deeper into the domain of that which has not yet happened:
*The high school principal, due to extenuating circumstances, had to move his residency onto campus for a while, occupying a house on the grounds.
AND--Christ says He will return again and be with His people.
*For a good three weeks this fall, a small tree, recently landscaped into the area just outside the school's back door, was a curiosity. Its leaves died away early, but did not fall off. One leaf, however, remained a bright emerald green. One leaf, alone at the tip of the bottom branch.
*AND--God said there would be an era when an apostate church would be widespread, but a remnant would be preserved.
Here the clear parallels break down. And we enter the arena of those things which have not yet happened in either domain: neither on our campus nor in the global sense, I have one thought that haunts me, and has ever since I first began "seeing" this panoramic retelling of God's history with His people. Two years ago I had a dream in which I made a trek around Alaska. At about 4 pm on the clock dial (that is as if the map of the state were the face of a clock) trouble hit the school. One student fell and when he hit the ground, his head exploded and so did his hand. The rest of the student body was paralyzed with shock at this boy's injury, and my husband and I ran up to begin CPR and to call 911. Now this winter, a young man decided to tell the students a story about the false god Dagon. In OT Bible stories, the Ark of the Covenant was stolen from the Hebrews by the Philistines. They decided to set it up in their own temple in company with their own god, Dagon. Over the course of a couple of nights, the statue of Dagon was found to have fallen over, with its head and hands broken off. Just after hearing this statue story told to them, the students in that chapel were reminded that at the end of the story when the Jews got the Ark back, they built a monument to God, raised their Ebenezer of recognition that God was their help. Then these chapel kids were given the opportunity to use Lego's to raise their own Ebenezer. Some chose to and some didn't, but the comment most adult teachers made was that the junior high kids were the first to go up and build. I remembered the verses that speak of children leading, of truth being revealed to babes...and the younger ones taking the initiative made the Ebenezer in the era of the apostate seem like this panoramic story is still unfolding, although very little of it is now so easily recognizable.
*One last thing. I recently felt the urge to go to the high school principal and pray that his prayer life where it related to the school would be consecrated by God. Like in the story of Joshua's battle against the Amalekites,which went well as long as Moses, hidden from them up on a high hill, stood with his hands lifted in dependence on God, of similar effect would be this Principal's prayer life. Though no one might know his prayers' content, structure, or purpose, I believed those prayers he would raise in his prayer closet would make a large difference in the days ahead for our school. Now as I think about Christ, our Mediator, who is absent from us but seated at the right hand of the Father, I see now why it is significant how this Principal's private prayer life is, in itself, a thing instructive and appropriately significant, particularly when his prayers are lifted in an intercessory mode.
As for the one part of the dream that had not yet come clear, I may finally have an idea why the dream was set in Alaska. It was a last puzzle piece that made no sense. I talked about it once with P. (the man I described as representative of the Holy Spirit in our school's story) when he asked me, "Do you think that was it?" and this said regarding a troubling situation with a student about a year ago. I said, "No, I don't think it is finished yet. I never learned what the Alaska part was all about. And usually something undefined represents a timing issue. I don't "see" the reason for something because it is not yet time to look for the actual events. But a connection will "appear" when the time really does draw near." Such a thing has now happened.
Recently, a movie came out called, Juno. The movie is about teenage pregnancy, and Juneau (different spelling but same sound) is the capital of Alaska. So now I ponder and I pray. Are we looking at the possibility of a teenage pregnancy at our school? It would certainly be enough to stop the other students, stunned, in their tracks. Also, I suddenly remembered that the first time I ever heard P. speak in chapel he raised dry statistics about the frequency and prevalence of teenage sin. To give it a little more substance/make it more real...he said, "That means, one of you (sweeping his hand across his view of the room) will be pregnant before you graduate. And we'll still be here for you." At the time, I thought it was simply a reality-check intended to keep them engaged. Now I wonder if it was more than that. Tomorrow, the kids will have a chapel service that puts a guest speaker from the Crisis Pregnancy Center in front of them. Though it has been a year and a half since he talked of pregnancy to them during that chapel, I believe it is nevertheless also him, P., who arranged for this visit by a guest speaker from the CPC. It would be in keeping with his role as Holy Spirit--first announcing the truth, later making resources available for navigating the trials of life associated with that truth. And that the prayer-cover of the the Christ-figure here might need to increase in its intercessory sensitivity, well this too is perfectly logical.
Of course, I can't label any of this last bit factual. But, I've watched it happen before: these elusive threads weaving together to become "facts" in this world. I'm quickened enough in my spirit that I'm certainly going to pray for that chapel service. And I'm going to thank God, for what a wonder it is that He would choose, in His sovereign wisdom, to allow us the corporate honor of being His story-tellers in conveying yet again, the Word of truth and life!
Monday, January 21, 2008
Uncle...
What I'm crying about the fact that I've felt the unction to get back to blogging my thoughts here more often, rather than putting it all into my private paper journal.
I had lunch with the wife of that man I wrote of just a post or two ago--the one who experienced my divinely-prompted prayer cover and was that "first-fruits" of the cleansing in my vision of the bars of soap. Not surprisingly, I was as much the "bless-ee" as the "bless-er" at that 2-hour Subway lunch that she and I shared. She was quite receptive to a conversation, and said they are very much people who walk by the Spirit of God, that it was rich to hear but not at all surprising to learn that God had supernaturally put me to prayer for them, because they had asked God to prompt intercessors to pray on their behalf. Then she and I proceeded into a discussion of what it is like to be a recipient of dreams and visions that are so clearly prompted by God. The natureof one of those dreams of mine, in the context of her interpretation of it, is what prompts me to return my fingers to the keyboard as a means of documenting what is happening to me--this "grooming of a prophet" business, even though that still feels like a near-lunatic thing to say.
In the dream under consideration, I stood before God, and was fitted with a cape; and the cape was covered with hands reaching upward. Once the cape was secured, I shot into the sky, flying. As I flew, the cape spread out, its hem never leaving the earth, but rather the fabric and the hands multiplied themselves and spread to fill the whole sky below me. I told her about this dream. She said what I received in that cape was indeed a mantle of anointing, a gift of calling to a particular outreach. She said she thought that the meaning of the spread of the cape was that as I grew upward into that ministry, I'd find that my gift had the power to be far-reaching, long-range in its impact. My gift would lead others to lead others--all coming into the full force of a gifting similar to my own. A prophet of prophets, so to speak. Now it feels like I come into the days when that clarity of meaning is needed, as God is indeed sending people to me who, after they hear I have dreams, literally bolster their courage and say, "You know, I had this weird dream..." It's happened four times that I can think of in the recent past in my work place. And in each case, I could share with that person how the imagery of their dreams matched things God has said to me in my own dreams. We both leave the conversation fascinated by the fruit of this interchange.
So, I'd say this: if an out-spreading is indeed to be a thing You move me into next, O God, them prepare me for it. Help me know how to document and share with others what You personally have taught me, so that others might recognize that peculiar type of "quickening" when it comes.
For example. for years, I might walk along the halls of an elementary school and see in a stairwell a red chenille pipe cleaner unwittingly dropped from some project carried by some hurrying child. Seeing that pipe cleaner would hardly draw my attention. At most, I'd pick it up as a sort of custodial duty done for the school. Not anymore. When this happened to me Friday morning, I was immendiately "reminded" of the story of how the ancients got the scarlet dye that coloted the "thread" used in their Hebrew sacrificial ceremonies. This dye came from: "...properly, the insect 'coccus ilicis', the dried body of the female yielding colouring matter from which is made the dye used for cloth to colour it scarlet or crimson." (This according to definition in Blue Letter Bible.) In greater depth, this dye came by the mother wrapping herself over the eggs of her babies while they developed on that leaf. She gave up her life to bring them to life, and the scarlet dye was released at that moment of new life. Its creation made this dye a precious commodity. That little pipe cleaner reminded me of that scarlet thread's history. Later that morning, I ended up praying with a grandmother who has a granddaughter in the hospital. The 7-month-old child is on death's doorstep, often coding daily, because of some blood and breathing disorder. That grandmother is holding up her whole family and does indeed feel like she is at the point of being a giver of scarlet. We prayed accordingly. This is how I perceive the smallest things of life now. This is how I recognize the intimate, tender care of God toward His children, and see even His quirky and creative way of pronouncing this love. It is a wonder and a mystery. It is a perception I'd happily sow into the hands of others if that were ordained to me. Guide my steps in this new terrain in the adventure of my life, O God!
I had lunch with the wife of that man I wrote of just a post or two ago--the one who experienced my divinely-prompted prayer cover and was that "first-fruits" of the cleansing in my vision of the bars of soap. Not surprisingly, I was as much the "bless-ee" as the "bless-er" at that 2-hour Subway lunch that she and I shared. She was quite receptive to a conversation, and said they are very much people who walk by the Spirit of God, that it was rich to hear but not at all surprising to learn that God had supernaturally put me to prayer for them, because they had asked God to prompt intercessors to pray on their behalf. Then she and I proceeded into a discussion of what it is like to be a recipient of dreams and visions that are so clearly prompted by God. The natureof one of those dreams of mine, in the context of her interpretation of it, is what prompts me to return my fingers to the keyboard as a means of documenting what is happening to me--this "grooming of a prophet" business, even though that still feels like a near-lunatic thing to say.
In the dream under consideration, I stood before God, and was fitted with a cape; and the cape was covered with hands reaching upward. Once the cape was secured, I shot into the sky, flying. As I flew, the cape spread out, its hem never leaving the earth, but rather the fabric and the hands multiplied themselves and spread to fill the whole sky below me. I told her about this dream. She said what I received in that cape was indeed a mantle of anointing, a gift of calling to a particular outreach. She said she thought that the meaning of the spread of the cape was that as I grew upward into that ministry, I'd find that my gift had the power to be far-reaching, long-range in its impact. My gift would lead others to lead others--all coming into the full force of a gifting similar to my own. A prophet of prophets, so to speak. Now it feels like I come into the days when that clarity of meaning is needed, as God is indeed sending people to me who, after they hear I have dreams, literally bolster their courage and say, "You know, I had this weird dream..." It's happened four times that I can think of in the recent past in my work place. And in each case, I could share with that person how the imagery of their dreams matched things God has said to me in my own dreams. We both leave the conversation fascinated by the fruit of this interchange.
So, I'd say this: if an out-spreading is indeed to be a thing You move me into next, O God, them prepare me for it. Help me know how to document and share with others what You personally have taught me, so that others might recognize that peculiar type of "quickening" when it comes.
For example. for years, I might walk along the halls of an elementary school and see in a stairwell a red chenille pipe cleaner unwittingly dropped from some project carried by some hurrying child. Seeing that pipe cleaner would hardly draw my attention. At most, I'd pick it up as a sort of custodial duty done for the school. Not anymore. When this happened to me Friday morning, I was immendiately "reminded" of the story of how the ancients got the scarlet dye that coloted the "thread" used in their Hebrew sacrificial ceremonies. This dye came from: "...properly, the insect 'coccus ilicis', the dried body of the female yielding colouring matter from which is made the dye used for cloth to colour it scarlet or crimson." (This according to definition in Blue Letter Bible.) In greater depth, this dye came by the mother wrapping herself over the eggs of her babies while they developed on that leaf. She gave up her life to bring them to life, and the scarlet dye was released at that moment of new life. Its creation made this dye a precious commodity. That little pipe cleaner reminded me of that scarlet thread's history. Later that morning, I ended up praying with a grandmother who has a granddaughter in the hospital. The 7-month-old child is on death's doorstep, often coding daily, because of some blood and breathing disorder. That grandmother is holding up her whole family and does indeed feel like she is at the point of being a giver of scarlet. We prayed accordingly. This is how I perceive the smallest things of life now. This is how I recognize the intimate, tender care of God toward His children, and see even His quirky and creative way of pronouncing this love. It is a wonder and a mystery. It is a perception I'd happily sow into the hands of others if that were ordained to me. Guide my steps in this new terrain in the adventure of my life, O God!
Saturday, January 19, 2008
On Being Called "Prophet"...
...publicly for the first time: it is strange. I've had You operate in my life in such a way that I myself in my private heart feel that label raining down on me. I've even had it implied by the things I offer to my family, though they haven't actually stamped me with that label. But now, I walk down the hall, and I greet a co-worker: "Hello, Keith..." and he says back, "Hello, Prophet..." and the conversation ensues. He deeply believes this profession he made over me; he also says I scare people, because not many people operate the way I do in this day. He remembers a couple or three times when I've come to him personally and said, "I want to pray for you..." and then I proceed to pray for Your will to blanket concerns he'd kept private, ones he had not told me, nor much of anyone except his wife. She also at first is stunned as she hears my words while I pray over him. One of these times, I see their eyes, and I say, "What, was I right on the money?" They laughed about how I addressed things they spoke of in the privacy of the bedchamber, but not really elsewhere. I said, "Well, that's God for you. Affirming from an unlikely source that He heard your prayer," to which they agreed.
In fact, since then, this man's wife is a person God has graciously given to me as a prayer partner. As such, she hears more of the things God plants in my heart than what just relate to her or her husband, and she is also convinced of this assignment to the office of prophet. (Which even now sounds too elevated a title for the likes of me.) I wonder what this means. It is said that 2008 is a year of new beginnings, that "8" stands for the idea of new beginnings, or more Biblically speaking, represents resurrection. What will begin for me this year, God?
I know that You are calling me out to share what You tell me with people less "familiar" to me. For instance, I was driving along the other day and noticed a man in a truck next to me at a stop light, and he looked to be in great distress. I observed him, thinking, "Why that looks just like T." And God said to me, "Yes, and just as much as that man is stopped and in distress, so is T. You should pray for him." For a week, I prayed for T. During that same week, I had a strange vision. One of those that is like the quick flash (almost subliminal) of an image, an image that "feels" like You, but comes so fleetingly that capturing it is similar to grasping after the string of a helium balloon inadvertently released. Often, the retrieval seems inadequate to the full detail of the picture, but I do seem able to draw back enough to bring the meaning to light. In this one, I saw a rectangular box filled with paper grass (the decorative kind of grass) and set with nine bars of soap. To the right side of these 3 rows of 3 bars, and nestled against the little wooden crate's side was a scrub brush, like a nail brush for a laborer to use when he cleans his hands from the grime of his work. The whole box had an old-fashioned barbershop look to it. So that week, I had this vision and I pray for this man--a man who is not necessarily common to my prayer life. At the end of the week, I learned that this man was indeed going through great distress at being stopped from a part-time job of responsibility he held--stopped through the repercussions of an error in judgment he made that ended up bringing a judgment on him that was without any offering of grace for continued employment at that time. I'd give more details, but don't want to be too specific to his situation. Anyway, as I reflected on the wonder of this prayer unction having come before I was privvy to the details, I felt God say to me, "That was soap bar number one." So it feels like 9 old-fashioned cleansings will visit men, cleansings that aren't necessarily comfortable--for the scrub brush had stiff bristles--but that nonetheless are designated as a gift. So with this in mind, I asked God for further clarification, for I felt led to share with this man's wife (a friend of mine) what were the details of this prayer call and this vision, for the sake of his encouragement and hope, even in the face of the despair of failure. The next morning, I came in my Bible-reading across this verse:
"Behold, I send My messenger,
And he will prepare the way before Me.
And the Lord, whom you seek,
Will suddenly come to His temple,
Even the Messenger of the covenant,
In whom you delight.
Behold, He is coming,"
Says the Lord of hosts.
2 "But who can endure the day of His coming?
And who can stand when He appears?
For He is like a refiner's fire
And like launderers' soap.
3 He will sit as a refiner and a purifier of silver;
He will purify the sons of Levi,
And purge them as gold and silver,
That they may offer to the Lord
An offering in righteousness. Malachi 3:1-3
I noted how the talk of a refiner's fire was singular, but the talk of launderers' soap was plural, making me once again see the nine bars as nine men. And in the end, I saw how this image serving as a "keyword" of connection brought something prophets of old would have said was a "word from the Lord" lifted straight out of scripture: once purged these ones designated for cleansing would be fit to bring an offering of righteousness to the Lord. Now as I share these things with "live" people and not just with You in my prayer closet, it is as if the experience were "new"all over again, for even though these things are now frequent for me, other people's eyes pop open wider at the hearing of this format of vision/scripture synthesis. They are either amazed at You, which is the appropriate response of one who believes in You as a living personality who is capable of such things...or they believe I'm weird or a charlatan.
I pray that if You are indeed going to publicize Your relationship with me into this new territory, I might be ready to face any of these responses when people meet You in me. Most of all, I pray that I might be ready to face the isolation that may come as people find You show me things that are indeed concerns they lay at Your feet, but ones they've not laid at anyone else's feet. May they not hold me at arm's length for fear of what I might "know" about them if You are indeed wanting to touch them through me. I know that the point is always You reaching out to them. I don't contrive personal judgments or connections with what You show me. YOu taught me early on that putting myself "in the stew" is wrong. Nevertheless, keep reminding me of this, too, God. Help me remember my place. Help me know when to speak and how to speak...as You Yourself once said in life--when You were in intimate sharing with Your disciples, You said: there's more I'd like to tell you, but right now you just can't bear it. Give me that side of wisdom that knows when and how much to say, especially alongside with this new unction to step out into a larger world.
Happy new year, God!
In fact, since then, this man's wife is a person God has graciously given to me as a prayer partner. As such, she hears more of the things God plants in my heart than what just relate to her or her husband, and she is also convinced of this assignment to the office of prophet. (Which even now sounds too elevated a title for the likes of me.) I wonder what this means. It is said that 2008 is a year of new beginnings, that "8" stands for the idea of new beginnings, or more Biblically speaking, represents resurrection. What will begin for me this year, God?
I know that You are calling me out to share what You tell me with people less "familiar" to me. For instance, I was driving along the other day and noticed a man in a truck next to me at a stop light, and he looked to be in great distress. I observed him, thinking, "Why that looks just like T." And God said to me, "Yes, and just as much as that man is stopped and in distress, so is T. You should pray for him." For a week, I prayed for T. During that same week, I had a strange vision. One of those that is like the quick flash (almost subliminal) of an image, an image that "feels" like You, but comes so fleetingly that capturing it is similar to grasping after the string of a helium balloon inadvertently released. Often, the retrieval seems inadequate to the full detail of the picture, but I do seem able to draw back enough to bring the meaning to light. In this one, I saw a rectangular box filled with paper grass (the decorative kind of grass) and set with nine bars of soap. To the right side of these 3 rows of 3 bars, and nestled against the little wooden crate's side was a scrub brush, like a nail brush for a laborer to use when he cleans his hands from the grime of his work. The whole box had an old-fashioned barbershop look to it. So that week, I had this vision and I pray for this man--a man who is not necessarily common to my prayer life. At the end of the week, I learned that this man was indeed going through great distress at being stopped from a part-time job of responsibility he held--stopped through the repercussions of an error in judgment he made that ended up bringing a judgment on him that was without any offering of grace for continued employment at that time. I'd give more details, but don't want to be too specific to his situation. Anyway, as I reflected on the wonder of this prayer unction having come before I was privvy to the details, I felt God say to me, "That was soap bar number one." So it feels like 9 old-fashioned cleansings will visit men, cleansings that aren't necessarily comfortable--for the scrub brush had stiff bristles--but that nonetheless are designated as a gift. So with this in mind, I asked God for further clarification, for I felt led to share with this man's wife (a friend of mine) what were the details of this prayer call and this vision, for the sake of his encouragement and hope, even in the face of the despair of failure. The next morning, I came in my Bible-reading across this verse:
"Behold, I send My messenger,
And he will prepare the way before Me.
And the Lord, whom you seek,
Will suddenly come to His temple,
Even the Messenger of the covenant,
In whom you delight.
Behold, He is coming,"
Says the Lord of hosts.
2 "But who can endure the day of His coming?
And who can stand when He appears?
For He is like a refiner's fire
And like launderers' soap.
3 He will sit as a refiner and a purifier of silver;
He will purify the sons of Levi,
And purge them as gold and silver,
That they may offer to the Lord
An offering in righteousness. Malachi 3:1-3
I noted how the talk of a refiner's fire was singular, but the talk of launderers' soap was plural, making me once again see the nine bars as nine men. And in the end, I saw how this image serving as a "keyword" of connection brought something prophets of old would have said was a "word from the Lord" lifted straight out of scripture: once purged these ones designated for cleansing would be fit to bring an offering of righteousness to the Lord. Now as I share these things with "live" people and not just with You in my prayer closet, it is as if the experience were "new"all over again, for even though these things are now frequent for me, other people's eyes pop open wider at the hearing of this format of vision/scripture synthesis. They are either amazed at You, which is the appropriate response of one who believes in You as a living personality who is capable of such things...or they believe I'm weird or a charlatan.
I pray that if You are indeed going to publicize Your relationship with me into this new territory, I might be ready to face any of these responses when people meet You in me. Most of all, I pray that I might be ready to face the isolation that may come as people find You show me things that are indeed concerns they lay at Your feet, but ones they've not laid at anyone else's feet. May they not hold me at arm's length for fear of what I might "know" about them if You are indeed wanting to touch them through me. I know that the point is always You reaching out to them. I don't contrive personal judgments or connections with what You show me. YOu taught me early on that putting myself "in the stew" is wrong. Nevertheless, keep reminding me of this, too, God. Help me remember my place. Help me know when to speak and how to speak...as You Yourself once said in life--when You were in intimate sharing with Your disciples, You said: there's more I'd like to tell you, but right now you just can't bear it. Give me that side of wisdom that knows when and how much to say, especially alongside with this new unction to step out into a larger world.
Happy new year, God!
Sunday, January 06, 2008
A Key Retrieved
I had a dream I was in a gymnasium with a friend of mine--the man who is a Bible and an English teacher at the school where I teach, as well as the high school principal. The dream was set at a sporting event. He and I spotted a set of keys on the floor and both reached to pick them up at the same time as we stood there on the sidelines in front of the crowded bleachers, while people watched the competition that went on beyond us. When we touched the keys, simultaneously seeking to retrieve what had been unwittingly dropped and forgotten, our hands strangely became like one hand--like one flesh and one being--as we raised the keys. We faced each other and the strangeness of the moment was on both our faces.
Because our relationship in the waking world permits such a "vision" to be a prompt for prayer, we prayed together about this dream I had. A day or so later, I felt the urge to share with him some of my writing on the relationship of the Beloved and the Bride--things scattered here and there throughout this blog over the last couple of years, mostly the stuff that is in the form of poetry. I asked him to be my copy editor, to help me discern an "order" to the poems, to decide if some did not belong, this was the beginning of his hand in the writing...but maybe not the end of it. Strangely, when he opened the binder's cover, the first line contained imagery that confirmed the authenticity of this Divine assignment by serving to repeat an image that a friend of his had brought prominently into conversation just the night before: the image of the rib of Adam that would form Eve, a fitting highlighting considering the tone and theme of the text. Was this the key? And, were our hands one in the raising of this text? Does he have a part in writing some of it as well? These questions still hang loosely behind a work progress.
I've written a lot on this blog, and much of what is here feels like it comes from my own heart and mind, but some of the words here feel more like I have written in service to a mind larger than my own, a mind that dictates rather than inspires, a mind that assigns and then defines the results of my research. These are the writings I've shared with my friend--the writings that don't really feel like they are solely my own. So he reads them over this holiday break. The last thing I asked him was, "Maybe you can tell me what I am supposed to do with this?" I am not a writer by trade. I don't teach writing in school. The one time I cracked a book about getting published, I read almost immediately that to retain the services of a decent agent, one must write a letter of self-introduction that should outline one's credentials for publication. That was it for me--I have no credentials to serve as a foundation for "saleable"writing.
But over this break, I've been reading a wonderful book called Prayer, by Richard J. Foster. In it, he quotes numerous authors whose words span from antiquity to now; and whose words, like mine are not necessarily the product of years of training in formal, devotional writing. They are simply people sharing their stories about their deepening relationships with God. Foster notes things like Kierkegaard's words about Scripture having "contemporaneity" that does not "merely parallel but actually intersects the present." And I though: why, I've sited such anecdotes here from our lives, but because not many writers in the Christian market do that, I thought it weird. I also noticed how Foster reflected on something I've only heard mentioned once before--the sanctified imagination. He notes that God will use our imagination even as He uses our faculties of reason. And in answer to those who balk that Satan could manipulate our imagination, therefore we should shun such activity, to them he says: are not our powers of rational thought likewise "fallen" and subject to that same evil influence, yet we don't shun using it. I loved that response! "To believe that God can sanctify and utilize the imagination is simply to take seriously the Christian idea of incarnation. God so accommodates, so enfleshed Himself into our world, that He uses the images we know and understand to teach us about the unseen world of which we know so little and find so difficult to understand." Well, I've regurgitated the product of that type of cud-chewing all over this blog! Then he quotes Alexander Whyte as saying "...with your imagination anointed with holy oil...at one time you are the publican; at another time, you are the prodigal...at another time, you are Mary Magdalene: at another time, Peter in the porch." I've certainly experienced this sense of our own lives overlapping the stories set in scripture. I've described it as being on the same "bubble of righteousness" as is found in Scripture: God's benchmark stories of relationship, with the bubble image coming from my image of the Bride's gown, swelling up with such bubbles, and being described in scripture as being formed of the righteous acts of the saints.
As I read these words from such remote figures on the Christian landscape and so many other examples in his text, I am struck by the commonality of the relationship factor between what appears in these quotes and my own current experiences. How different they are from much of what I hear and read from Christian speakers and authors of today. I do not mean any disrespect, but so much of it is all about making this life here in this kingdom here more profitable and more comfortable and more productive in Christian terms. So little of it is about that mysterious communion with the Divine Presence whose love and power is so mind-boggling you can hardly describe it rather than to say it makes all these other "important" things seem like clutter to crawl over on the way to this--this Oneness. At best, I have found books full of wise dissection of Scripture, but rarely have I found books of passionate devotion to God. Now, in this book on prayer, I find quotes that ring a common tone to my own experience of relationship with God, these last few years, but these words are from ancient writers , and I think again of the forgotten keys on the floor in my dream. I thnk of the "game" where we watch and are invested in the outcome, but do not really participate in anything, and I think of so many modern definitions of the Christian walk...is this really important, God? How would You reach out in prevenient grace to this kingdom that has become such a world of spectators?
Funny, I took a walk on New Year's Day alone in the cold. No people were outdoors, and many of the Christmas decorations had fallen in a strong wind. But a few houses still had windchimes hanging. I reflected on how differently I receive a windchime's song depending on the season: the same sound that is so cheerful in a spring or summer breeze sounds so mournful in an icy wind. And in terms of sharing my "song" with others, I certainly feel like a windchime in winter--until I read this compilation of spots of light from so many historic Christians. So now I'm taking a new look at my own recorded reflections--especially as I read this text that Foster quoted from Thomas a Kempis about what we should seek to read in our devotional life:
"Search for truth in holy writings, not eloquence. All holy writing should be read in the same spirit with which it was written...Do not let the writer's authority or learning influence you, be it little or great, but let the love of pure truth attract you to read."
I suppose if I would make a prayer over what You'd have come of the words I put to page for you, my Lord, it would be that Kempis' system of "grading" a text would earn me an "A" and that if it is shared with anyone, it might be received on these grounds alone. Praise be to You, the author and finisher of our faith!
Because our relationship in the waking world permits such a "vision" to be a prompt for prayer, we prayed together about this dream I had. A day or so later, I felt the urge to share with him some of my writing on the relationship of the Beloved and the Bride--things scattered here and there throughout this blog over the last couple of years, mostly the stuff that is in the form of poetry. I asked him to be my copy editor, to help me discern an "order" to the poems, to decide if some did not belong, this was the beginning of his hand in the writing...but maybe not the end of it. Strangely, when he opened the binder's cover, the first line contained imagery that confirmed the authenticity of this Divine assignment by serving to repeat an image that a friend of his had brought prominently into conversation just the night before: the image of the rib of Adam that would form Eve, a fitting highlighting considering the tone and theme of the text. Was this the key? And, were our hands one in the raising of this text? Does he have a part in writing some of it as well? These questions still hang loosely behind a work progress.
I've written a lot on this blog, and much of what is here feels like it comes from my own heart and mind, but some of the words here feel more like I have written in service to a mind larger than my own, a mind that dictates rather than inspires, a mind that assigns and then defines the results of my research. These are the writings I've shared with my friend--the writings that don't really feel like they are solely my own. So he reads them over this holiday break. The last thing I asked him was, "Maybe you can tell me what I am supposed to do with this?" I am not a writer by trade. I don't teach writing in school. The one time I cracked a book about getting published, I read almost immediately that to retain the services of a decent agent, one must write a letter of self-introduction that should outline one's credentials for publication. That was it for me--I have no credentials to serve as a foundation for "saleable"writing.
But over this break, I've been reading a wonderful book called Prayer, by Richard J. Foster. In it, he quotes numerous authors whose words span from antiquity to now; and whose words, like mine are not necessarily the product of years of training in formal, devotional writing. They are simply people sharing their stories about their deepening relationships with God. Foster notes things like Kierkegaard's words about Scripture having "contemporaneity" that does not "merely parallel but actually intersects the present." And I though: why, I've sited such anecdotes here from our lives, but because not many writers in the Christian market do that, I thought it weird. I also noticed how Foster reflected on something I've only heard mentioned once before--the sanctified imagination. He notes that God will use our imagination even as He uses our faculties of reason. And in answer to those who balk that Satan could manipulate our imagination, therefore we should shun such activity, to them he says: are not our powers of rational thought likewise "fallen" and subject to that same evil influence, yet we don't shun using it. I loved that response! "To believe that God can sanctify and utilize the imagination is simply to take seriously the Christian idea of incarnation. God so accommodates, so enfleshed Himself into our world, that He uses the images we know and understand to teach us about the unseen world of which we know so little and find so difficult to understand." Well, I've regurgitated the product of that type of cud-chewing all over this blog! Then he quotes Alexander Whyte as saying "...with your imagination anointed with holy oil...at one time you are the publican; at another time, you are the prodigal...at another time, you are Mary Magdalene: at another time, Peter in the porch." I've certainly experienced this sense of our own lives overlapping the stories set in scripture. I've described it as being on the same "bubble of righteousness" as is found in Scripture: God's benchmark stories of relationship, with the bubble image coming from my image of the Bride's gown, swelling up with such bubbles, and being described in scripture as being formed of the righteous acts of the saints.
As I read these words from such remote figures on the Christian landscape and so many other examples in his text, I am struck by the commonality of the relationship factor between what appears in these quotes and my own current experiences. How different they are from much of what I hear and read from Christian speakers and authors of today. I do not mean any disrespect, but so much of it is all about making this life here in this kingdom here more profitable and more comfortable and more productive in Christian terms. So little of it is about that mysterious communion with the Divine Presence whose love and power is so mind-boggling you can hardly describe it rather than to say it makes all these other "important" things seem like clutter to crawl over on the way to this--this Oneness. At best, I have found books full of wise dissection of Scripture, but rarely have I found books of passionate devotion to God. Now, in this book on prayer, I find quotes that ring a common tone to my own experience of relationship with God, these last few years, but these words are from ancient writers , and I think again of the forgotten keys on the floor in my dream. I thnk of the "game" where we watch and are invested in the outcome, but do not really participate in anything, and I think of so many modern definitions of the Christian walk...is this really important, God? How would You reach out in prevenient grace to this kingdom that has become such a world of spectators?
Funny, I took a walk on New Year's Day alone in the cold. No people were outdoors, and many of the Christmas decorations had fallen in a strong wind. But a few houses still had windchimes hanging. I reflected on how differently I receive a windchime's song depending on the season: the same sound that is so cheerful in a spring or summer breeze sounds so mournful in an icy wind. And in terms of sharing my "song" with others, I certainly feel like a windchime in winter--until I read this compilation of spots of light from so many historic Christians. So now I'm taking a new look at my own recorded reflections--especially as I read this text that Foster quoted from Thomas a Kempis about what we should seek to read in our devotional life:
"Search for truth in holy writings, not eloquence. All holy writing should be read in the same spirit with which it was written...Do not let the writer's authority or learning influence you, be it little or great, but let the love of pure truth attract you to read."
I suppose if I would make a prayer over what You'd have come of the words I put to page for you, my Lord, it would be that Kempis' system of "grading" a text would earn me an "A" and that if it is shared with anyone, it might be received on these grounds alone. Praise be to You, the author and finisher of our faith!
Tuesday, January 01, 2008
Seeing My Feet
Last year I blogged about the difference between our Christmas outings of 2005 at King's Island Amusement Park and 2006 at a Santa shop in a local farm implement store. This year, my mind is drawn to reflect on the difference between Christmas Day of 2007 and New Year's Day of 2008--not as long a march of days between but certainly as much diversity.
Christmas Day our family had the unique experience of being campers at Disney World's Fort Wilderness Campground. A full moon, perfect weather, friendly squirrels and absolutely no bugs made the camping experience almost surreal. That strange quality bled from Christmas Eve into Christmas Morning as I listened through the tent walls while other families observed their "private" Christmas morning rituals. I heard the crackle of gifts being unwrapped and heard children squealing over the just-revealed gifts. That strange freedom to observe swelled as I walked to the bathhouse. One extended family had rented adjacent campsites, put a tree up between them, and all sat circling the tree in camp chairs, opening the family gifts. I felt like I was a secret observer being transported by one of Scrooge's ghosts, except that these people saw me and paused in their unwrapping to wave to me.
New Year's Day we are back at home and having a very private holiday. No one is visiting; in fact each of us is enjoying the holiday in our own solitary way. We gathered to make fried doughnuts and watch part of the parade this morning (using the new deep fryer that was a Christmas gift to the family.) But over all, the holiday is restfully solitary for each of us.
On Christmas Day I walked...a lot. All over Epcot we went that day. I saw the world past, present and future as told by Disney. I saw Santa under every name and guise of cultural diversity. Mostly I remember being in crowds so thickly massed that I often couldn't see my feet, particularly in a few of the "new" style of queue lines that aren't really queue lines at all, but rather something we coined the term "mob lines" to describe. I hope the trend to use this method of herding people onto rides is one that dies a quick death.
On New Year's Day I walked, too. All over the neighborhood I went. I saw a total of 8 people on that snowy, windy walk but I still couldn't see my feet, as I had myself utterly wrapped in a deep fluffy red scarf under a grey hood to keep the cold sting off my nose and eyes. At Disney the mass of humanity in that ideal climate and that ideal playground was unavoidable. But here in the neighborhood, humanity's presence was far more subtle. A track of three parallel lines in the scant snow on the sidewalk--some child hoped the snow deep enough on a nearby communal hillside to send a small sled forth--a less exciting activity than many of those found at the end of the long queue lines at Disney but surely rewarding in its own way.
Both walks ended. I saw my feet again.
Christmas Day our family had the unique experience of being campers at Disney World's Fort Wilderness Campground. A full moon, perfect weather, friendly squirrels and absolutely no bugs made the camping experience almost surreal. That strange quality bled from Christmas Eve into Christmas Morning as I listened through the tent walls while other families observed their "private" Christmas morning rituals. I heard the crackle of gifts being unwrapped and heard children squealing over the just-revealed gifts. That strange freedom to observe swelled as I walked to the bathhouse. One extended family had rented adjacent campsites, put a tree up between them, and all sat circling the tree in camp chairs, opening the family gifts. I felt like I was a secret observer being transported by one of Scrooge's ghosts, except that these people saw me and paused in their unwrapping to wave to me.
New Year's Day we are back at home and having a very private holiday. No one is visiting; in fact each of us is enjoying the holiday in our own solitary way. We gathered to make fried doughnuts and watch part of the parade this morning (using the new deep fryer that was a Christmas gift to the family.) But over all, the holiday is restfully solitary for each of us.
On Christmas Day I walked...a lot. All over Epcot we went that day. I saw the world past, present and future as told by Disney. I saw Santa under every name and guise of cultural diversity. Mostly I remember being in crowds so thickly massed that I often couldn't see my feet, particularly in a few of the "new" style of queue lines that aren't really queue lines at all, but rather something we coined the term "mob lines" to describe. I hope the trend to use this method of herding people onto rides is one that dies a quick death.
On New Year's Day I walked, too. All over the neighborhood I went. I saw a total of 8 people on that snowy, windy walk but I still couldn't see my feet, as I had myself utterly wrapped in a deep fluffy red scarf under a grey hood to keep the cold sting off my nose and eyes. At Disney the mass of humanity in that ideal climate and that ideal playground was unavoidable. But here in the neighborhood, humanity's presence was far more subtle. A track of three parallel lines in the scant snow on the sidewalk--some child hoped the snow deep enough on a nearby communal hillside to send a small sled forth--a less exciting activity than many of those found at the end of the long queue lines at Disney but surely rewarding in its own way.
Both walks ended. I saw my feet again.
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