"Progress................................"

“The problem, as always, is that nature gives off mixed signals. Like an unruly child, the natural world both reveals and obscures God. Creation groans, to use the apostle Paul’s term; and so we must not got to nature to construct our theology; she will fail us every time. Rather, we must go to nature once we have our theology and let her fill in the words-awe, glory, beauty, terror-with meaning.”……Annie Dillard

Along with such celebrity as Martin Luther King, Henri Nouwen, Frederick Buechner, Tolstoi, and Mahatma Gandhi, Yancey cites the above author as being part of that force which has kept him moving forward in his spiritual journey. She holds no degree in Divinity. She is a writer and a naturalist; but, as she, herself, asks: “Is there room for a pilgrim-just that-a pilgrim and not an expert or a saint?” Personally, Annie, I’m a little tired of all the self-proclaimed conquerors of the Book and can well identify with you when you suggest that the Church, just as nature, gives us reason to be confused, the “gap between what we’re doing and what we are trying to do, the relationship between the incongruity of who we are and who we’re trying to move with our prayers” being some sort of “dancing bear act”. While the Bible, along with that internal anchor-line established in Christ, remains my north star, I’ve found the walk, itself, to be a stagger down the strait path wherein I continually need Him to adjust my thinking, strengthen my stamina, and fill in the blanks. A little company, soaked in honest humility, is always welcome……

Our Wednesday evening class had more the appearance of a street meeting than it did your usual ecclesiastical assembly. One middle-aged biker, noticeably dressed in leather, tattooed, bearded, his silver hair tied back in a pony-tail; one young mother with two small children, another with an infant in her arms; this old man seated at a table in the rear, nursing a cup of coffee; plus several women, various ages, whose spaghetti-stringed tops and hip-hugger bottoms left little to one’s imagination on either end of the spectrum. If we were, indeed, a motley crew, however, the opening invitation for prayer requests brought forth enough evidence of our all being in the same boat. Then the lesson took us into a question of whether God yet heals today, and because the teacher extends opportunity for all to offer opinion, we also were soon reinforced as to our being somewhat apart in how such a miracle comes to us. If faith is required, how does one achieve it? Is it a gift given to but a few who merchandise it via tent revivals and television airwaves? When we finished, the subject wasn’t nailed down. What we had was the Holy Ghost and the next step……

"Revelation....................................."

“The end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time”….TS Eliot


I came across the above quote in Yancey’s “Soul Survivor” and have pondered it a bit the last few days. People speak of God as being a great enigma; but, to me, it is life, itself, that is the puzzle. Thirty-five years ago this past March, the Creator stepped into the innermost of who I am and, although I yet catch myself at times speaking to Him as if conversation required spanning some great distance, what became possible via that connection is an oasis within to which I run again and again. Finding the flow is not a matter of formula. Indeed, I’ve come to believe the only part given to me is surrender and a willingness to trust in His wisdom, His faithfulness. A friend’s recent (July 1st entry) post, written as unto Him, has stayed with me, her words, although originating in a loss thankfully not experienced in my journey, bringing to me a witness of my own heart. My relationship with the Church during these more than three decades, as well as my success in being and living all that the message of the Church suggests possible, falls much in line with Yancey’s thinking: “Why doesn’t it work?”; but, at the same time, my “belly” would shout to the world of what has not failed me through everything the years have brought unto me: “He abides; and the anchor holds!”…

Yancey quotes Mahatma Gandhi as says: “Stoning prophets and erecting churches to their memory afterwards has been the way of the world through the ages. Today we worship Christ, but the Christ in the flesh we crucified”; and notes, himself, in one place, that “It is our very longing, our failure, our sense of incompleteness that forces us to throw ourselves on God’s mercy. Our imperfection in this life calls for another, more complete realization of that goal.” He also quotes Dr. Robert Coles who speaks of what he calls seeing, hearing, and feeling what he calls “the animated spirit of the Spirit becoming active, becoming an event”. Granted-people remain people, and humanity always makes for a less than a perfect product, but when the doctor describes the encounter as “transporting, elevating, and summoning” the individual, giving them the sense of at last being “on the way, set to do something” and, yes, even knowing a measure of “having arrived”, he’s close to what captured me in my living room and what has kept me when other aspects of this religious pilgrimage didn’t make sense. Revelation isn’t just the last few chapters of the Bible. It is grace and peace manifested unto me through the reality of a union with Him in a prayer closet…

"Target-shooting..................."

Yesterday morning, opportunity presented itself for a descent to the lobby area of our condo, a place where a man can get alone with his lap-top, check his e-mail, and perhaps catch up with a few friends. Instead, as it happened, I got "mugged" by a Morman. The only other person in the room was a gentleman, my age, seated there with his own hook-up to the Internet; and, when he spoke, in jest, of the rainy weather outside, I opened the door for polite conversation. He, though, simply stuck his foot in the gap and went for my jugular. For twenty minutes or so, he ignored my reference to already being solidly anchored in my own beliefs, my willingness to accept the possibility of his being correct about a few things even though we disagreed, and was still trying to convince me, as I shook his hand in leaving, of there being three levels of Heaven to which, no doubt, his individual ilk was assigned the highest elevation. At the moment, though, all I wanted was the fifth floor.....

Years ago, a colleague at the railroad, a Christian, but of another flavor than my own particular scoop from the freezer, continually pestered me as to the error of my conversion. "Three in one" was literally the singular foundition of his bunch and, upon that theory all else rested. If a man had not been baptized in the name of Jesus, only, you were hell-bound, condemned forever. Still wet in my own walk, yet fully convinced in my experience thus far, I saw no reason not to at least humor this fellow and so approached my pastor about a new immersion, if for no other reason than to make everybody happy. The shepherd of my flock, however, got quite upset to hear such a request, leaving me concerned as to what, indeed, truth really was. In the end, peace about the matter came to me in a prayer closet. The daily harassment at work ceased when Frank, one night, gave me a tract with ninety-nine Biblical verses supposedly supporting his tenets and I returned it with ninety-nine of the same, tit-for-tat, counter-balancing the theology.....

The call to witness of Christ is in my heart as well. Thirty-seven years in this, though, has taught me well that, like most other aspects of the Gospel, connection is established through Him, not by any forcing of the message on my part. Whether one speaks of bringing forth the Word or manifesting a tangible extension of His love, the proof is in the pudding: Jesus, Himself, "seals the deal". In the book I'm currently re-reading, Yancey quotes T.S. Eliott as saying: "The end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we first started and know the place for the first time". While I can envision there possibly being such a future point in my eternal existence, there nonetheless already abides within me an "island" that goes with me day by day, an oasis to which I frequently retreeat, a well that often overflows the vessel reminding me of its reality, surprising me in its grace. Always the flow ministers to me; but sometimes it moves through me and beyond me,and two, three, a room, become one in Him. In that flow, I trust.....

"Osmosis..............................."

The flight down from Cincinnati had an nitial "minor moment" that gave me one reason to consider getting off the plane and utilize another method of transportation; but, once we took to the air, it was merely a two-hour "piece of cake" to our destination. The oldest daughter's brood arrived at the condo a few hours after us, less than a seveneen-hour drive, no incidents. The middle daughter's family experienced some trouble with their vehicle, but limped in a bit later, thus ending our worries. There are, indeed, those times when I can appreciate cellphones. The whole crew had a chance to enjoy the surf before darkness fell. Even the old man. I just didn't get wet in the procedss.....

I like the beach for many reasons. Swimming in the briny just doesn't rate anywhere near the top of the list. What draws me is the "connection". Deep calleth unto deep. So that evening, about ten-thiry, while the others were topside watching television and whatever, I went down to where the sound of the waves washing over the sand allowed me to get alone with God. There was peace in my soul about making this trip, but that didn't mean I had abandoned all concern about matters at home, and a one-on-one dialogue with the One who holds it all in the palm of His hand is never out of order.....

A few hundred yards north of our unit, the shoreline turns inward, boats passing under a causeway bridge that joins two separate townships; and the city on this side has built a small, concrete deck, there at the bend, for people to sit and soak in the view. Finding it unoccupied, I walked to the end, still in prayer, and leaned against the railing. Slowly my mind became aware of the full moon overhead projecting its image on the ocean below. The picture before me resembled a lighted path, beginning at a point just in front of me and extending ever wider unto the horizon, compsed of what seemed to be radiant impulses, glittering silver fish rapidly swimming in to meet me; and, for a while, I simply stood there, raptured into the glory of the Creator.....

"Bulletin...................."

I love you…..

Three little words that some find quite difficult to speak at all; and yet, when spoken by the rest of us, they are either voiced with no real concern for what we are saying, or with no way to express what is held in one’s heart. Years ago I wrote a song that defined such emotion as “a knot that God, Himself, has tied”, for it seems to me that, even though the bond need not be reciprocated, it is hard to sever once it has been established.....

We leave in the morning for a few days vacation. My youngest daughter, along with my next-door neighbor will be guarding the home-front. It has been a hard decision to make. Other things going on in my life right now. God, though, has given me release about the matter and a heavy load has been lifted off my mind. My laptop is going with me. More later. Perhaps…..

"The Tie That Binds............................"

"These things have I spoken unto you that ye should not be offended (or: that you may be kept from stumbling)"....John 16:1, KJ & NAS


My Pensacola vacation and a visit this past weekend to the Youth Detention Center interfered with my hearing the first two servings of a four-part sermon constructed so as to more tightly shape our assembly into a unified Body of Christ. As usual in such series, however, the pastor briefly reviewed his prior points, noting that (1) friendship is vital to any congregation; and (2) involvement “seals the deal”, and then centered on his present focus (3) protecting one another. By the latter, he simply meant ministering to those within the flock who get hurt in some way or perhaps just “being there” for a fellow believer who is struggling in their journey. It was, in all aspects, a good message; yet the verse above, upon which it rested, is situated in the middle of two chapters composed of nothing but red print, the very words of Jesus concerning the need of our knowing the Holy Ghost, not as a Biblical term, but as a Reality, as a supernatural Third Party extension connecting us with our Father, an indwelling and a source of all that He is, and therefore that which will enable us to know the fulfillment of what He speaks in this particular verse; and no mention, at all, was made of that fact Sunday morning. Maybe it was dealt with on the two prior occasions…..

It bothers me when a significant portion of teens confined to that Youth Detention Center give affirmation to having had a prior church experience, yet also feel that what they were told to be truth did not confirm itself in what life brought unto them. I hear the same confession, though, from both young adults and older people; and I’ve come to the conclusion that there’s no doubt something missing in this gospel we preach. People, of course, will always remain people. The Lord, Himself, in sending us forth, made it quite clear that the seed we sown may well be lost for a number of reasons; but all the more important, therefore, (or it seems to me) that what we share with others must come up out of our “belly” more so than from a head filled with nothing but our own perception of the matter. I agree with my pastor that what we, as believers, have is each other. Nonetheless, if, in that, all we possess is a doctrine, a denominational credo giving no evidence of His promise existing within us, what do we really have to give? Our works may be mistaken for merely an effort on our part to appear holy if faith isn’t somehow confirmed by Him. It’s never been about me convincing others of my particular view of the Volume, but that Christ “in” me might somehow emerge in all…..

"Sorting It Out..........................."

"The Christian’s Bible is a drug store. Its contents remain the same; but the medical practice changes. The world has corrected the Bible. The church never corrects it; and also never fails to drop in at the tail of the procession — and take the credit of the correction. During many ages there were witches. The Bible said so. The Bible commanded that they should not be allowed to live. Therefore the Church, after eight hundred years, gathered up its halters, thumb-screws, and firebrands, and set about its holy work in earnest. She worked hard at it night and day during nine centuries and imprisoned, tortured, hanged, and burned whole hordes and armies of witches, and washed the Christian world clean with their foul blood. Then it was discovered that there was no such thing as witches, and never had been. One does not know whether to laugh or to cry. There are no witches. The witch text remains; only the practice has changed. Hell fire is gone, but the text remains. Infant damnation is gone, but the text remains. More than two hundred death penalties are gone from the law books, but the texts that authorized them remain"…..Mark Twain

In-between running to and fro with my wife this week, my mind has been occupied with some Thomas Merton, Philip Yancey, an old Tom Clancy novel, “Red Storm Rising”, and various uncharted waters, for me, within blogdom. The initial paragraph here represents a visit this morning and is but one taken from several quotes which give some insight into what the famous author of Huckleberry Finn thought about the faith I follow. Sadly, one can’t deny the facts; but, of a truth, I’d rather sit down and discuss Christ with a man so questioning in his attitude toward the ecclesiastical institution, than with that man who has it all doctrinally wrapped and encased in cement. Then again, what feeds me is dialogue, not debate; and I long ago learned that people can be dogmatic on both sides of the fence…..

As far as the Word, it’s not the text, but a man’s attempt to decipher it with his own understanding and then require all others to agree with his view thereof. If the believer tends to enshrine the volume, then it can also be said that the atheist would dismiss it altogether; and, in both scenarios, a living, tangible God is not lost, but certainly left standing outside the door, knocking for permission to enter in. Within those literary pursuits listed above, someone suggested that, as our species gained intelligence, we lost all fear of divine authority and a judgment day to come. The Book, they said, needed no translation, it spoke for itself. What they really meant, however, was that they, alone, possessed the correct meaning of chapter and verse, another declaration of having “arrived”…..

We all are created with an inner recognition of the mystery, a thirst for meaning, purpose, and some real sense of what our existence is all about. Life-on a planet in the middle of a solar system being hurled across a seemingly unending universe, bumping elbows with all of humanity and never really being fully able to explain our own psychological make-up, let alone the guy seated next to us. What I have found Scripture brings to me is an extension of the Trinity, the “Logos” utilized by the “Rhema” (which is just another word for the Holy Ghost). It comes with a tug on the anchor-line, as well as a boot in the butt at times, and is part of the key that take me “through the veil”, a location where I don’t necessarily get all the answers, but at least can find rest and strength in Him…..