"How To.........................."

Six days into Summer Break and, to be honest, it feels strange having no obligations as to being anywhere in particular and knowing that, for the most part, there are still about nine more weeks of the same in front of me. My upcoming visit to Veterans carries with it the possibility of more trips to Veterans. It is, therefore, the unknown that holds me in this state of limbo. Nonetheless, I am far from bored, looking forward to midweek Bible class tonight, and yet feasting on our time spent with the kids at the Detention Center this past Sunday. Gordon Livingston, a psychiatrist and the author of one of the books presently holding my attention, wrote that “The most secure prisons are those we construct for ourselves”, adding “Before we can do anything, we must first be able to imagine it.” The latter reminds me of the old Rene Descartes misquote “Cogito; ergo sum” (I think; therefore I am), not that he didn’t express himself in such terms, only that, rather than claiming we exist only in our thoughts, what he really suggested was that we progressively become the person we mentally make ourselves to be. I believe that to be true in more ways than one. Our attitudes and our character are both born of the journey thus far, our reasoning created out of our history; and that which we build spiritually, even as in the physical realm, cannot be so concrete that an earthquake can reduce it to rubble, so flimsy that the first strong wind blows it to kingdom come. Sand beneath the foundation isn’t the only weakness to sound structure. It takes the Holy Ghost, alive in me, an on-going correction in my thinking, the mortar applied between the bricks, the nuts and bolts holding this all together. I am reminded of my grandfather laying block for the basement of our future home, troweling “mud” as needed and proceeding at a pace that had my dad following in his footsteps carefully adjusting each addition. Likewise, this old man is glad for the Master Architect, a tangible presence in whatever each day brings to me….

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

“Time is not a straight line, but a labyrinth; and if you press yourself against the wall in the right place, you can hear the hurried steps and the voices. You can hear yourself walk past on the other side”….Tomas Transtromer

“Eventually all things merge into one; and a river runs through it. The river was cut by the world’s great flood and runs over rocks from the basement of time. On some of the rocks are timeless raindrops; under the rocks are the words; and some of the words are theirs. I am haunted by waters”…..A River Runs Through It

The first quote above was utilized in a book I’m currently reading and the poet’s words reminded me of the second one which comes from the final scene of that particular movie. There an old man stands fly-fishing in a mountain stream as he recalls his father’s final sermon about our inability to help those closest to us. I prefer the latter description of time, seeing such commodity, myself, not as a path we walk, but as an existence, a dimension within which we, ourselves, determine all the circles and zig-zags of our stumble through the unknown. Indeed, the only real measurement that that can be made in this reveals no more than the number of breaths we’ve taken thus far, not some physical route through the wilderness. The space we occupy has known others. In this thought, the writers and I are in agreement and I do believe that, not so much the spirits of those departed, but some “trace” of them remains with us, some sort of “whisper”, a memory that can be accessed if we would but slow down in our rush to join them, listen with our hearts instead of our ears. No; I am not suggesting ghosts. God is the only tangible connection between here and eternity. Within the framework of “time”, however, my father, for example, is yet held somehow within my being, an invisible cord of some sort un-severed; and I am thankful for it. Likewise, all of history is lost to me only in my decision to ignore it, to leave it there on the other side of the veil……

"Relay............................."

“Life is no brief candle to me. It is a sort of splendid torch which I have got a hold of for the moment, and I want to make it burn as brightly as possible before handing it onto future generations.”… George Bernard Shaw

Attending two graduation services this weekend, I heard a total of nine speeches, one a short sermon delivered by our church pastor, another the above quote with a few words added given by the principle of a huge school in Lexington, four individual from the salutatorian and the valedictorian of each class, and three from just students of that larger assembly. I thought the last a “nice touch”, that triad simply elected to such honor by their classmates. In particular, one of the latter invaded my mind enough with what he shared so as to still have me chewing on it this morning. It could be no more than an old man reminiscing, his pointing to the future as being yet unknown, their only possession being this moment with an opportunity to give it their best shot, finding me nodding in agreement and wondering, indeed, what tomorrow held for this large enthusiastic group seated before me robed and tasseled. Merely fifteen received their diplomas the night before. Over four hundred on this occasion were about to go forward for diplomas. The number alone, I suppose, set me contemplating how many of them would actually achieve their dreams, how many of them even entertained dreams, how many of them had any kind of relation at all with Christ. This, then, was the message taken to the Detention Center this morning, with a stress on the need for, not just an initial point of contact, but also a continued return to that location. If nothing else in this life comes with a guarantee, in this one thing we can anchor our soul: whatever tomorrow holds, He remains, an assurance in the depths of our existence, a tangible, knowable Reality in whom we can put our trust regardless of our faults and failures as we go. While no certificates of achievement were awarded in our meeting, we left knowing that the real teacher, the Holy Ghost was still conducting class even after our departure.

"Ministry................."

A cold breeze chilled the first day of Summer Break this morning, so, instead of motoring over to the park for a three mile walk around the soccer field, I stretched out in the recliner with a new book loaned to me by a friend. “Beyond Opinion” by Ravi Zacharias is subtitled “Living the Faith We Defend” and it took me only moments to realize I need to purchase one, myself, there being too much desire on my part to highlight segments, scribble notes, gather it together for future reference. A couple of lines, in particular thus far, speak to me. In quoting that verse about there being nothing new under the sun, he says that we forget something very important: The people to whom it is happening are new and the answers, however old, must never sound stale. “I have little doubt” he adds, “that the single greatest obstacle to the gospel has not been its ability to provide answers, but the failure on our part to live it out.” Then, as if that wasn’t enough to provoke my thoughts, a friend elsewhere quotes Rick Warren saying “In deep pain, people don’t need logic, advice, encouragement, or even Scripture. They just need you to show up and shut up.” Her own words then speak of a cynicism that arises within her when believers seems to “wrap up life’s small and big things with a bow named God”, it rolling “off their tongue with a flippancy that seems devoid of reality”; and yet, at the same time, she also takes into account a recognition of an “inner wisdom” witnessed in the shining faces of a few elderly women, a possession she, herself, would like to know… It is a problem, as I see it, within Christianity, partly due to the fact that “Christ in me” has not eliminated the “me in me”. This is a journey. We learn as we go. Some learn quicker than others. It is no less true, in my opinion, however, that the Church, at large, has greatly failed to teach those three words in its reality, either reducing the Holy Ghost to an un-discernible identity attached to the nuts and bolts of our faith, or else claiming His identity ours to usurp, His wisdom, power, and knowledge simply given for us to utilize as we see fit. Neither is the Gospel. He may well abide within us once we have experienced reconciliation; but there remains that need for us to know “contact”. Just because His “pilot light” now provides an inner source of all that He is, it doesn’t mean our own flame bends to join it at all times. We yet stumble. May we not forget that in reaching out to others…..

"Pause................................"

While these last few days of school are mostly occupied with fun and games, final testing already conquered, our Special-Ed unit yet requires some degree of “work as usual”, the kids acclimated to a routine and needing familiarity. Tuesday morning, therefore, with two of the boys doing something instructive on a computer and another piecing together a crossword puzzle elsewhere, I sat at a kidney-shaped table with three of the other children while the teacher attempted math problems with them on something called a “Smart Board”. One at a time each was individually called forward to count two sets of objects, the lesson being to merely conquer basic addition, but not an easy task for this group, even after a full year of approaching it from different perspectives. In watching the song and dance unfold, my thoughts went to this young man before me, his skill for this job having been made apparent to me these past nine months, patience, compassion, and simply some inner source of “grit” necessary when the only reward is the relationship acquired as you go. Surely there are times when you ask yourself why you’re here, the educational system, itself, often the biggest question mark. Paper work. People. Principled paths with demands that seemingly make no sense. Somewhere along the way, though, the soul in this child before you connects with your heart, something beyond the undisciplined behavior, an inner spark that breaks through the fog and holds you so as to create a bond. The rest of it doesn’t matter after that happens, or at least not enough to dissuade the desire to return. You give it all to God and He walks with you through the details. “One more year” has turned into eleven thus far, this one maybe the best yet; and while summer break is welcomed with enthusiasm, in truth there is, within me, that which looks forward to August…….

"Query......................................."

Sunday evening service kicked off four days of revival, a different preacher every night and a special speaker, one quite knowledgeable about Biblical prophecy and current events, scheduled for morning meetings. The place was packed for this initial entry, people there from several other states thanks to our regular internet broadcast. Worship, as usual, was loud, upbeat, and bringing the body into a sense of unity, the Holy Ghost in the lyrics, but, for whatever reason, not overflowing to a point our knowing any real depth of His presence. Thirty minutes and three songs down the road, the pastor came forth to recognize a few visitors and receive an offering, becoming passionate in addressing us. “When you sit in this house”, he said, “You have come under a covering, a spirit of prosperity, because I have prayed and conquered that demon of poverty!” The sanctuary filled with rejoicing, the musicians providing a background as the granddaughter and this old man left… In “The Question of God”, a book written by Dr. Armand M. Nicholl, Jr. wherein the minds of Sigmund Freud and C.S. Lewis are compared, atheist psychiatrist and atheist author converted to Christ, Socrates is quoted as saying “The unexamined life is not worth living”. The finger is then pointed at all those who scrutinize every possible aspect of our universe, from billions of galaxies to subatomic particles, electrons, and quarks, but never take a deep look at their own image, who they are as a person. Then Pascal is added as observing that “If we were truly happy, we should not need to divert ourselves from thinking about it”, indeed, the sole cause of our unhappiness being “we do not know how to sit quietly in our room.” Forty-one years into a born-again relationship with my Maker, I find myself puzzled by the gulf that separates me any more from the roots of my faith, this Pentecostal bunch that now more resembles television evangelism, celebrity hype that moves the mass. The well is still there. I connect occasionally, His reality thick and moving in our midst. The mindset overall, though, leaves me sitting in the balcony, viewing from the sidelines. These are good hearts, some them known through four decades of what life brings to all of us. We just don’t see it from the same perspective nowadays and the guy who worries me is me. Everybody else hears voices and speaks “with authority”. Inside me is an “anchor-line”, a “hook in my belly”, a living witness that meets me, leads me as I go. Peace is maintaining that covenant…….

"Closed Circuits........................."

It was about eight-thirty when we stepped outside the rescue mission Wednesday evening, darkness not yet upon us as we crossed the street to walk another block down to where our cars were parked. The four of us were chatting about something or other, carrying our Bibles, most everyone in that area knowing churches visit for nightly services. In other words, we “stuck out like sore thumbs”. It was also evident to us, however, that we had picked up a hitchhiker almost no more than we arrived at that opposite curb. African-American. In his late twenties. His appearance gave no evidence at all of being no more than someone who lived in the vicinity, just a young man who admitted to us that he was, for whatever reason, interested in our talk, eager to let us know he knew Christ. Or did he? When I didn’t immediately confirm his claim, he told me of walking across the Ohio River Bridge one night when a violent thunderstorm suddenly erupted, electrical lightning flashes making it seem as if he was on a battlefield somewhere. Scared to death, he threw his hands up and agreed to repent if God would only make it all stop. A voice, an audible voice, he insisted, answered him “He’s with me!” The words made little sense to me as being any sort of reply to his request, however; and, not getting any input otherwise from the Holy Ghost, I left him with the truth: confirming his salvation wasn’t my job. If he had any doubt at all, he needed to go back to his Maker and find peace about the matter. My advice had nothing to do with such questionable witness as he had provided me, his faith, as stated, based only upon an almost laughable “encounter”; but how many do I know whose eternity rests on no more than a self-constructed theology with little or no life in it? In my book, it seems to me that dogma can be just as deceiving as drama. John wrote in his first epistle that “there are three that bear record in heaven” and “three that bear record in earth”, giving us indication, to say the least, of our assurance needing an on-going affirmation from on high. That doesn’t mean we need to walk in doubt and fear, question this re-connection provided us in Christ; but it does suggest we regularly go back to the well within us for another plunge into the deep……