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

Within Pentecost (and that embraces enough variations to give different perspectives on what is about to be brought forth here) we have always believed that the Holy Ghost restored unto us via a born-again experience includes those gifts listed in the twelfth chapter of 1st Corinthians. In the early days, when I first stepped into this with my bunch, we were taught that an initial baptism into His presence would be distinguished by receiving the manifestation of “speaking in tongues” and, until one accomplished that achievement, everything else was “on hold”. Today, however, there is very little instruction concerning any of it and, within our ranks, while most occurrence of the Supernatural during our services tends to flow from the pulpit, there are those among the congregation who seems to have no problem sharing with whomsoever “authority claimed”. Boldness equates to faith. Failure to accept or receive amounts to a lack of faith on your part. Why do I remain? Because within the mess our humanity brings to such subject there is yet the reality of God’s grace alive in our midst. We quite often know the blessings of the Spirit settling over us like a thick cloud, penetrating the depths of our identity and bringing us into unity in spite of all our differences. How do I deal with the confusion, the question of what springs out of His well and what is no more than a head full of good intentions but void of His anointing? When prophecy comes forth, not only must it not contradict the Word, but it also must be verified by its being fulfilled somewhere down the road. Indeed, those terms must be met regardless of which gift is declared to be in operation. People are people; God knows the heart; and learning to wait on His “tug” is a lesson found in a stumble down the path, especially if the Church fails to disciple its own……

"Outreach.............."

I sat by myself in the rear of the sanctuary this morning. Worship took me into another dimension at one point; but, after that, my mind was more on the people around me than it was on the sermon brought forth. It could have been that greeting an old friend who’s at least fifteen years younger than me had sparked the mood. Rick’s hair is gray now, what there is of it, that is. Bald, not all that tall, sporting one of those chin beards that give him the “hillbilly biker” look, and wearing a Harley vest over a white t-shirt and jeans, he resembles an animated gnome, smiling with his eyes to complete the picture. I never see him that my thoughts don’t go back, the image of him sitting on our front door steps and confessing Christ after teenage years had taken him far from the small country church known in his childhood. A preacher’s kid who now attends another assembly, but visits his widowed mother here every week and is but one of many who connect with me in memories of long ago. Four decades is no short amount of time. Rick’s faith has held him. A lot of others, wounded along the way, sit now in the shadows, some still reading their Bibles, some not. I’ve come to believe we all are God’s children, each of us under His ministry regardless of location and, in the end, judgment will be one of the heart. Community is for fellowship. A thousand can do more together in ministry, quantity-wise, not quality-wise, than merely two hundred. Nonetheless, salvation remains a one-on-one experience worked out in a man’s heart. You can be just as lost singing in the choir as anywhere else. Gathered as one in His name we are as diverse a collection of individuals as one might find at a ballgame, a concert, or even in a bar. Being born-again doesn’t eliminate our humanity. Sitting in a pew doesn’t necessarily make you born-again. I miss Roger, though, and Junior, and Becky, and at least a hundred more, their names listed in my heart and remembered in my prayers as the Spirit stirs an old man’s memories. In Him, we are not separated. The tie yet binds. Distance is no barrier…

"Zeroed In......."

A point within a point. My mind is yet turning over the Geometry lesson utilized as a sermonette at the Detention Center a few weeks back. The illustration, it seems to me, is much closer to truth than the understanding most believers adopt within this. There may be just one Book, but theology formed from what it says is another matter; and, while orthodox Bible-based variations of the faith claim unity, nonetheless, in Christ, yet any study of individual dogma gives question as to how it all concludes on Judgment Day. Will there be segregated lines for each denomination? Will it all hinge on whether we’ve been good Baptists, Catholics, Pentecostals, fill in the blank, or whether we made use of what came to us through Calvary’s Cross? Is humanity’s problem solved through a theology or a reality maintained and worked out in the trenches? Is there an assurance we might possess beyond “herd mentality”, one that doesn’t abandon the Word and, at the same time, doesn’t create a zealot lost in his own heresy? From my own perspective, born out of a journey in this for more than four decades, believers own a “trinity”: (a) Scripture as an authentic blueprint to guide us in (b) the next step, life, itself, sorting out for us our continual stagger down the path as (c) the Holy Ghost, reconnected via a born-again experience, feeds us, directs us, and secures us only in as much as we utilize such grace given us, Christ “in” me more than just a catchphrase. That third element, though, remains a mystery, Deity not mine to own nor control in any manner. He exists in another dimension, yet proves Himself unto me as I go, a dream once, a vision another, every so often an audible voice, soft, stern, always as a Father; and that much of the relationship indeed is known “mentally”, in my head, but apart from my own thoughts. Beyond that, however, there is that “belly” anchorage, that Spiritual “pipeline” by which the Holy Ghost feeds me and ministers unto me, a point of encounter whereby, as He rises out of an inner well, I surrender myself to know Him in all that He is. It is an osmosis of sorts, a merger wherein depth varies, whether determined by my willingness to continue or by His wisdom I know not, but contact is undeniable. All else is religion. It’s what we do otherwise. It all comes down to a point……

"Kismet........................."

Beth and I watched one of those Nicholas Spark’s “chick flicks” yesterday. While something like “Braveheart” tugs more at my masculinity, if the plot is emotional and pierces the heart, then it makes no difference, romance or just life in general, this old man confesses to an enjoyment of such genre. “Best of Me” revolves around two teenagers whose love for each other is physically severed for twenty-one years by unforeseen circumstances before a close friend’s death draws them back to their former childhood home. Within the story, the author poses the question as to whether or not destiny holds some sort of grip on all of us. Is humanity merely fulfilling a script written long ago before any of us were even born, our assigned role assumed upon arrival? It’s one of those mysteries beyond our ability to comprehend and to each their own opinion. I would be lying if I didn’t admit to having experienced here and therein this journey, moments of what seemed to be “déjà vu”, those times where my mind has pondered the possibility if, in knowing the future before it even happens, God doesn’t determine the details of our existence. Choice is still a freedom seized back there in the Garden, fires stolen by Prometheus; but somehow little was achieved by such theft when Divinity owns eternity in either direction. My own sanity in the matter, “freedom”, if permission is granted to define it in such words, lies within my trusting Him with all my decisions, all my actions, and giving recognition to the truth that He, alone, has my back as well as the next step. In that I can rest. There is no need to worry if everything I do is in His will, for He IS His will and He abides within me. The only requirement is surrendering all of me unto Him for evaluation on a daily basis. Then, whatever tomorrow brings, pre-ordained or not, peace reigns within my soul, for if, from my perspective, things “happen”, that doesn’t change the facts: Nothing escapes His eye, His authority, and His power over all “things”…….

"Non-fiction............................"

Beth and I watched a Disney production yesterday, something called “Into the Woods” and more of a musical than anything else. McKenna had already seen it in the theater, loved it, and asked if we would buy the DVD for her. As it unfolded there before us in our living room, the plot quickly revealed itself to be at least four or five fairytales woven together into one story. No animation. Johnny Depp played the Big Bad Wolf and is killed within about a twenty minute segment. My oldest daughter and friends were quite disappointed with the whole thing, but this old man was rather amused with the lyrics and the genius of whoever thought to so combine Cinderella, Rapunzel, Little Red Riding Hood, and Jack in the Bean Stalk. Amused, that is, until what should have been the end, everybody living happily ever after, was drawn out another thirty minutes, the situation reversed and all the characters blaming each other for the fact that life was still life and no fairytale. Yet so it is with humanity, even “in” Christ. I posted a quote on Facebook yesterday stating how “Genius and talent develop in quiet places; but character develops out in the full current of life”. Forty-three years within Pentecost has taught me that, while being “born-again” connected me internally with Deity in another dimension, any and all aspects of what that change in my existence brings to me depend on how often I “return to the well” as well as how much I “make myself a vessel permitting overflow”. In Bible class last night, our teacher pointed us to D-Day, America’s present moral state, and the pastor’s Sunday morning sermon “Making room for the Holy Spirit”. My immediate question was as to whether this nation’s condition was created by a pagan society or a Church that has failed to reach it with the reality of Christ “in” me. Have we been so busy “making war” that we have lost His heart, His vision, and His compassion in this? Do we gain any ground “swinging the sword” out of our own passion, or would we accomplish more by putting it back into His hands and walking by the inner tug on our anchor-line? Is it more about “my way or the highway”, or His way and His voice leading me in the next step? This isn’t Mother Goose. This is the beginning and the end, Alpha and Omega, our Father, Trinity within…….

"Instruction.........................."

My granddaughter turns fifteen in August. She’s been raised within Pentecost all her life, had a few Spiritual encounters in her younger years, but only in the last six months or so has stepped into being more overt with her faith. Singing in the Youth Service, involved with the drama group that every so often ministers in the adult sanctuary, and openly seeking His presence during altar calls points to a hunger never before openly expressed. Her older brother, as well, has greatly changed within that same time frame and perhaps seeing that transformation take place has birthed this in her. Does it make me happy? I rejoice! Not that either were ever anything but good kids. Just that Papaw, with over four decades in this, has long prayed for his grandchildren, not just to receive the blessing, but to know it with as much understanding as possible. I want them anchored, not merely submerged and then left to wonder where He’s at once the water has receded. Picking McKenna up at the church after practice and a prayer meeting tonight, therefore, I asked her during the drive home how she would define the word “prayer”. She looked at me quizzically and replied “conversation with God”. When I suggested that implied a need for words and, in truth, the Bible, itself, tells us linguistics aren’t really necessary, she cocked her head to listen. “While there are indeed any number of ways to approach His throne”, I said, naming praise, worship, as contemplation as examples, ”contact and interaction are found only in as much as we surrender ourselves unto His divinity, His wisdom and His judgment as they come forth to meet us out of an inner well.” I believe that. Grace is a Reality who has taken up residence within us. Heaven and earth has already been spanned; and if we, out of a hunger and thirst, humbly submit our will unto His, we CAN touch the hem of His garment. We CAN experience Him in the depths of all that He is. Capture Him? Encase Him and hold Him within the schematics of our theology? This isn’t an algebra lesson. This is life, and much more than just existing, if we visit His well on a regular basis…….

"Position.........................."

Facebook was avoided by me for a long time. My first visit in its initial stages discovered not much more than people announcing to others their daily routines, everything from mowing the lawn to a trip to the mall to turning out the lights and going to bed. That has changed somewhat along the way. For me it seems now like a place where whatever community you have befriended shares a bit of their identity through pictures, videos, and on-going conversation that might embrace almost anything from politics to food fantasies, from events attended to sharing one’s faith without trying to preach. It’s an on-line bulletin board that hasn’t replaced the cell-phone, but does offer one some “connection” in another form; and, when a close friend posted this morning a single sentence that read “I’m not right, but I am forgiven”, he “sparked my brain”. Shouldn’t the latter indicate that the former, at least to some degree of sanctity, has been accomplished? How many of us, I wonder, walk in this journey with our understanding shaped by what has been preached to us rather than a salvation worked out one-on-one with the Holy Ghost? That’s not to suggest the believer ought to throw away the Book and shoot his pastor. We need both solid foundation in our faith and authority with a concern for our soul; but within my own over-four-decades of knowing Christ there has, in truth, been much that came to me from the pulpit that needed re-examination in the next step and, likewise, chapter and verse addressed by so many perspectives that I long ago learned that any real understanding of it was a matter continually “under construction”. Being “right”, in the sense of me having completely conquered the enigma will never happen in this life; but, if assurance of my position in Him flows out of my “belly” rather than manufactured in my head, the above quote, it seems to me, becomes an oxymoron…….

"Contact..............................."

In ministry, I frequently point to the truth that, while those there, within the sound of my voice, will almost unanimously confess to a belief in God, no two hold exactly the same perspective of just who and what that word means to them. It would not be much different if such identity check was asked of any denominational congregation. That’s because no matter how well we think we have the Creator “in a box”, He defines us, not the other way around. It occurs to me, therefore, how, for the most part, what much of Christianity promotes is their individual theology, leaving the consumer on their own to discover whether there’s really anything inside the package; and, all too often, what fills the pews is little more than people with faith in their faith, not necessarily a solid connection with Divinity. Good people. Good intentions. The original message simply got buried under all the dogma along the way, humanity remaining humanity in spite of Christ in me. Indeed, those last three words, declared by Paul to be “the mystery of the Gospel”, yet pose an enigma beyond our ability to comprehend and, in many ways, are simply left for the believer to determine its reality on their own. Pray. Read your Bible. Good instructions; but, unless we learn the journey is changed only in as much as His tangible presence is with us in the next step, life is still life. On our own we are little more than dumb sheep. Tangible presence? What does that mean? How does one put that into any description where “one size fits all”? While it is my belief that the experience, itself, is a personal matter, one wherein, although the Holy Spirit can come to us in various manifestations, the circumstances are always orchestrated out of His wisdom, our surrender accomplishing more than any other effort we might be tempted to put into it. What is common to any and every encounter? The “point” where any real merger is ever achieved is always the same. It is out of our “belly” that living waters flow, our inner "plumbing” once again joined to the original “paternal umbilical cord” and the level of such depths merely a matter of how willing we are to be baptized into His grace…….

"Moorage......................"

”"I think it is impossible to explain faith. It is like trying to explain air, which one cannot do by dividing it into its component parts and labelling them scientifically. It must be breathed to be understood" - Patrick White, Nobel Prize in Literature 1973

”For the first time in my life I understood the meaning of the word ‘never’. And it’s really awful. You say the word a hundred times a day, but you don’t really know what you’re saying until you are faced with a real ‘never again’.” – Muriel Barbery

While exploring a few previous internet encounters this morning, I found myself caught for more than just a few moments by this picture and the above quotes. The two were connected only in as much as my own mind explored potential relationship between them. The page, itself, was designed to inspire writers and, out of the variety there before me, this trio sparked something in my depths. In one sense, the memory of losing my father when I was but eighteen is yet as real as the day it happened. While a feeling of there being “a knife in my belly”, severing from me all possibility of ever again knowing his existence otherwise, may no longer seem more than my ability to bear, the words “never again” became quite clear to me long ago. How does that relate to this image of some book or manuscript destroyed by flames? For whatever reason, it spoke to me of Bible, of whether a man’s trust is anchored in a book or in the One who lives within its pages. There is, for me, a difference. With more than four decades in this now, I’ve known far too many who, out of disappointment with a doctrine taught and accepted, but didn’t hold up somewhere down the road, out of discouragement with a church whose humanity proved stronger than any manifestation of His resurrected reality, abandoned ranks and walked away. There may well have been no literal match applied to Scripture. Nonetheless, a belief once strongly confessed is reduced to ashes unless that which gave it life sprung from more than just chapter and verse. Either we know a “hook in our belly” or all we really possess is merely an illusion, a false sense of security anchored in our own stinkin’ thinkin’. Either His “paternal umbilical cord” has been reconnected to an inner point in the depths of all that we are, or our Christianity is not much more than religious ritual. If any would seek to know the difference, inhale; and if all you experience is more oxygen in your lungs, that, of itself, only serves notice of you yet being in this world…….

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

”Follow peace with all men, and holiness, without which no man shall see the Lord; looking diligently lest any man fail of the grace of God; lest any root of bitterness springing up trouble you, and thereby many be defiled” – Hebrews 12:14

In 1972, the above Bible verse was but one of others strongly embraced within Pentecostal legalism, that high-lighted word, in particular, equating to most of its members as a state of existence able to be achieved if believers surrendered themselves to a dogmatic lifestyle supposedly marking a faith that was “in the world, but not of the world”. While there are probably yet those within our ranks who hold to such theology, we’ve come a long way since those days for the most part. That’s not to say, however, that all “standards” have been dismissed; and not to suggest that I, in my own journey, don’t accept a need for us to pursue whatever He might require of us as we go. What more than four decades in this has taught me, though, is that “conforming to the image of Christ” doesn’t translate to somehow changing my genetics and knowing a metamorphosis of some sort. My humanity hasn’t disappeared somewhere along the way. Any difference in me can be attributed to residual water yet left on me from my last dip in the pool. Any witness, hopefully, comes from His anointing and not my own efforts, lest it be tainted, more apt to hurt than help. Good intentions do not ensure error is not contained therein. Scripture teaches me that, not only can we yet come short of knowing God’s perfect will, we can also conclude that we, ourselves, ARE God’s perfect will; and, in doing so, can become nothing more than a garden full of weeds. The Holy Ghost, three-in-one, alone, is absolute truth, teaching me the Word again and again in the next step, pointing me to Jesus in this continual stumble down the road, and ever reassuring me that “grace” isn’t merely a religious term expressing forgiveness. Merger is a matter of surrender, not an arrogant assumption on my part; and it is to be sought in all that I am, in all that I do…….

"Stability......................."

Life is no rollercoaster. It may well have its ups and downs, its share of unexpected curves, and a sudden stop much too soon; but reality is an illusion wherein one experiences the ride seemingly in slow motion. Only in looking back do we realize the distance covered; and finality, in terms of our existence, is a mystery yet to be determined. You can’t just purchase a ticket for another orbit. My group’s visit to the Youth Detention Center Sunday morning was special, finding an anointing that fused together the Gospel from five completely different perspectives and then drew four kids to return after the others returned to their cellblocks. Two of the boys would whole-heartedly ask Christ into their heart. The other pair sought an ability to witness of Him while there. My friends and I left the facility with our spirits rejoicing, no longer wading in the depths of His presence, but most assuredly still “wet” from the overflow. Evening church service fed me. Several hymns and a sermon on this occasion, however, while drawing some to the altar, didn’t connect with this old man’s “plumbing”, at least, for whatever reason, enough to “prime the pump”. The Holy Ghost in me was content to worship with me through an inner surrender, my gratitude and praise expressed openly, but more “one-on-one” than any fusion with the congregation. Monday, then, was a rainy day spent mostly inside with a book, some crossword puzzles, a bit of computer, and the warmth of my wife’s companionship while enjoying some television game shows. Today my Toyota needs to go out to a friend’s garage for an oil change. Nothing else is on the schedule other than perhaps taking our granddaughter to a nearby mall for a new set of earphones. It will be eight weeks before we return to the Detention Center. Circumstances are forcing me to miss the next rescue mission. I’m sitting here hungry for another “encounter” and hoping tomorrow’s Bible study class will, in some way, take us “through the veil”. Prayer, of course, isn’t penciled in on a calendar and always gives possibility of being more than “words”. In the meantime, there is a sense of knowing Him, of His resurrection waters not lying stagnant, but moving within my identity, a voice unheard and yet speaking to me in some mysterious form. ESP? Mind meld? I only know He’s there even when the thrill has dissolved into the next step, another day, nothing much going on. Faith is not in my head, but comes up out of my belly…….

"Through the Veil....."

Beth and I went to a wedding this weekend. It was one of three all scheduled for the same day, those “tying the knot” all associated with our church family; but, for us, this particular one special for us. The bride was my buddy Tony’s oldest daughter. I liked the simplicity of it: the groom and his bunch of “merry men” wearing no jackets, grey suspenders holding up their trousers and a bow tie giving it an air of formality; bridesmaids were dressed in purple, the bride in white, of course, but no one nor no thing so fancy as to suggest being in competition with others. The ceremony was short and those in attendance were already seated at tables in a reception hall. My kind of gathering; but to each their own. The one sadness to the whole affair was the groom’s father whose back pain was diagnosed just diagnosed a few months ago as terminal cancer. In his mid-fifties, he refused to dismiss the occasion, arriving in a wheelchair with his once large frame drastically reduced to almost beyond recognition. It was, for me, just one more evidence of theology preached to me over the last forty-three years that falls short of truth, the reason why Bible study and the next step is the recipe for following Him, not merely a sermon half-consumed and then abandoned, Christ no more than a mental image created out of our own reasoning and sealed in concrete. Whatever the future holds for each of us, our journey is not secured out of a faith anchored in “our faith”. Health, wealth, and prosperity are not conditions we can arrogantly claim through some confession of chapter and verse. What IS gained through our conversion is a connection, an inner well where we can know assurance of His grace, His wisdom, and His peace, His resurrected reality enabling us to meet and survive whatever tomorrow brings to us. We do not conquer “all things” out of our own strength other than investing it in a surrender unto He who holds it all in His hands. The Word does inform us that “hope” is an integral part of salvation as we go; but, always, it needs to rest in “Thy will, not mine be done”……….

"Instant in Season................"

Just before Tony closed in final prayer at the rescue mission Wednesday evening, I encouraged the men to learn that such petition was better accomplished in their belly, not their head. Christ emphasized the need for us to be “born-again”, declaring it impossible for us to “see” (understand) or even “enter into” the “kingdom of God” without such event, that latter destination of which He spoke not referring to heaven, but this present relationship we might know with our Creator right now. “Living water” is a promise purchased through Calvary’s redemption and confirmed by a resurrection restoring a life-line within the innermost depths of those who take their thirst unto Him. We do not teach this truth enough, in my opinion, the Church at large still trying to span a gulf reconnected by Jesus over two thousand years ago. Indeed, as we were helping clear the room of chairs and tables afterwards, one young fellow approached me with a question. “How do I do that?” he inquired, patting the hair on his head with one hand and rubbing stomach with another; “How do I get it from here to there?” Now “the shoe was on the other foot”. How do I explain to him in a few minutes the simplicity of “surrender”? Fancy words are not demanded in approaching Divinity. One need only be honest and speak with the heart. We are not in control. He is; and “stepping through the veil” has to be with His permission, not an act of our own arrogance. It is, in fact, much like the old iced-tea commercial where the man, having sipped such refreshment, simply falls backwards into the pool. There is a “fear” the first time, for relinquishing all that we are, trusting Him to catch us, is just part of the journey; but, once encountered, assurance for the next visit is gained, a door opened unto us whenever we humble ourselves to know His presence. Whether we swim in the deep or the shallow end is an individual experience depending on His wisdom and our humanity. Nonetheless, it is the Covenant as extended unto us and far too few, it seems to me, take advantage of its benefits. It is what separates us from all else out there, marking Christianity a reality, not a religion. It establishes faith in Him, saving us from possessing nothing more than faith in faith…….

"Schooling...................."

”Science has discovered that, like any work of literature, the human genome is a text in need of commentary, for what Eliot said of poetry is also true of DNA: ‘all meanings depend on the key of interpretation.’ What makes us human, and what makes each of us his or her own human, is not just the genes we have buried into our base pairs, but how our cells, in dialogue with our environment, feed back to our DNA, changing the way we read ourselves. Life is a dialectic.” – Jonah Lehrer, and borrowed from “Whiskey River”

When I first stepped into “Old-time Holiness” and Christ stepped into me, experiencing the sense of God’s presence was expressed in the same manner as observed in others who attended our church meetings. Freedom was permitted for “howsoever the Spirit moved an individual”. Humanity still being humanity, what occurred there within the sanctuary was definitely “encounter”, but not always met with wisdom. Life is a lesson to be learned. Being “born-again”, in many ways, means starting all over; and the “classroom” is bigger than any denominational attachment we make in following Him. Then, again, so is a man’s ego anywhere it is found within the process. Thus, for me at least, while the exterior has changed over these more than four decades since my original entry point, the interior, that connection wherein “two are made one”, remains the same and is vital to my salvation. This is a work yet “under construction”. My participation within the Body no longer involves any title. My attendance is not as enthusiastic as it once was. Four day “revivals” do not get my attention no matter what celebrity speaker fills the pulpit. In the middle of all the mystery, however, all of the evolution that finds me now sitting on the sidelines, observing from afar, what continues to keep me here is the witness of His Holy Ghost moving in its midst. Watching five of my six grandchildren swimming in His anointing feeds my soul. If their individual theology is being shaped by a modern version of the Gospel rejected by this old man, it is that which overflows their vessel which gives me assurance that He has their anchor-line. The definition of “dialectic”, by the way, is: “a process of reasoning based on a clash of one idea with its opposite leading to a resolution of these ideas in the form of a truer or more comprehensive concept”. If God has their heart and they give Him their reins, divine tutoring never ceases and I can surrender to that all my hopes for their future…….

"Kenosis............................"

Visiting “Whiskey River” this morning, I stepped into one of those deep wells of thought so often entertained any more. My days, for the most part, are my own. The clock doesn’t hold me with too many obligations. The subject matter under observation has held me captive in one way or another for over seventy-three years and, under another name, equates to no more than my own existence. Time. There are those who have likened it unto a river, assigning it flow and asserting it impossible for us, therefore, to step into its depths in the same place twice. If that’s true, however, it seems to me only logical to question in which direction is it going? The analogy, as stated, would appear to have us moving upstream, heading somewhere, paddling against the onrush, destination eternity. Then, again, why not the reverse of that scenario, some of us simply drifting with its force, letting each day take us where it will, some of us trying to resist by any means whatsoever, and others in an attempt to at least extract some meaning to the journey. My own conclusion to the whole matter long ago dismissed all external velocity. Infinity, from any perspective, just “is”. It is man, himself, who passes through it within his own allotted segment, his path determined as he so chooses, the tick of the clock his own invention. The real mystery is: Having eyes to see, why do we miss what is right before us? Having ears to hear, why do we ignore so much of what is spoken unto us? We blink. We sort out the noise. We create life on our own terms until reality hits us right in the face. The world around us is factual, but what we possess of it is only this moment, this breath; and any “gears” orchestrating movement, physical, spiritual, or otherwise, are within us. All that changes in the end is dimensional location, mortality swapped for immortality, time no longer dictating an aging process to a body now free from its tenacious grip…….

"Geometry................................."

Point: Take a sharp pencil and reach out anywhere to touch any one of infinitesimal lines invisibly running to and fro, here and there, north and south, east and west, and wherever you “mark the spot”, you have a “point”. Not a dot, or at least not speaking in correct mathematical terms. Not a decimal. That requires numbers on either side to give it such identity. Insignificant? Perhaps; unless you, or I, or anyone else, for that matter, happens to be that particular introduction of existing in this life. Then, suddenly, it depends upon perspective. The further one moves away from it, its reality disappears. The closer one delves into its depths, it’s also easy to drown in the totality of what we failed to know at first glance. Continue to place other points around it, elbow-to-elbow, armpit-to-armpit, and before too long its meaning has been absorbed by all else that’s out there. Does it have meaning? Purpose? Whatever attachment it holds with others, whatever self-satisfaction is found within its own existence, if there is no “point within the point” where definition is established by a higher Source, a person is left with nothing more than their own reasoning, their own defense, their own humanity as it has come to them down through the years. We need “connection”; we need “anchorage”; and, in achieving it, we are told in Scripture that we must to surrender unto it all our heart, all our soul, and all our mind, putting all our strength into such effort, for even in knowing Him, we remain wobbly in our walk. A point. Not in our head, but in our “belly”. Out of it flows living water, life for those who thirst, manna for those who are hungry, assurance for those who seek an answer to the enigma…….

"Retail...................."

I drove about seventy-five miles yesterday afternoon to meet my grandson, the one whose whole life has held such distance between us that, while my heart is no less connected with him, knowing him in who and what he is has been a whole different relationship than what’s been possible with the five who all have grown up “in my back yard”. With two years of college now behind him, questions about his faith are surfacing and his mother suggested a talk with me. We met at Walmart, grabbed a couple of sandwiches from Subway, and motored together to a nearby church where an outdoor pavilion gave us quiet space. I expected “Why not Buddha?” He gave me merely interrogatives (and some good thinking of his own) about fundamentals, inquiries about the Cross, what made us “sinners”, and a concern about his own stumble down the path, healthy investigation every believer ought to make somewhere along the way. Truthfully, in my own opinion, that latter is an exercise that needs to remain “open discussion” in a prayer closet on a regular basis. Just north of us, Cincinnati not only boasts of its own amusement park, but positioned there, in the same neighborhood, is an “auto-mall”, a huge section of ground home to multiple new car businesses, any and every brand all in one place competing for your dollar. It came to me the other day, one of those mental images that frequently pass through this old man’s mind, that today’s Church is much the same. In our area, at least, within a ten-mile radius Christianity gives choice in so far as style of worship, dogmatic beliefs, congregational fellowship and outreach, the only thing commonly claimed being “the product they are trying to sell”. How many people, though, “thump the tires”, read the manual, and check out the consumer reports before signing on the dotted line? Most are content with a salvation validated by the membership contract and are willing to let eternity determine truth at a later date. I want confirmation now, in my “belly”, not my head. I want that for my family. I want that for whosoever has ears to hear. Not forced. Not demanded by thumping my Bible. Either this is real or it is no more than religious ritual. Either His “flow”, or “no go”. He “sells” Himself if this old flawed vessel will but remember that fact…….

"Nametags................"

In the course of our Wednesday evening Bible study, for whatever reason, our teacher asked ME to define “absolute truth” for him. My immediate response was to suggest someone else might be a better choice for such task. No; the die had been cast. “Black and white!” I blurted, trying to comply without taking the class into my own theology and, at the same time, knowing such answer would be utilized to emphasize that which I don’t believe. It was; and yet, void of any Spiritual anointing to debate such issue, this old man saw no point in forcing my opinion upon the others. People have to take their own journey in this, learn their own lesson in a stumble down the path. For me, though, there is only one correct definition for “absolute truth”. Christ claimed that label long ago and, for much too long, the Church has tried to replace Him with the Book! That’s not to say one can’t find Him within chapter and verse; but it does demand that, in confessing their faith in the word, Christian must also admit to the possibility of error since, if for no other reason, our humanity is involved in processing that which is written therein; and that, alone, ought to make it always a work “under construction”. Our understanding ought to be continually re-examined in both a prayer closet and the next step. It is He whom I follow, a resurrected reality who always allows me freedom in this, final accountability more a matter of how I lived my faith, not so much how well I managed to reduce it to an Algebraic formula: baptism by immersion plus attending and tithing equals entrance through the Pearly Gates. Scripture reminds me of my own individual sins, points me to Christ, and tells me to make myself a vessel through which He might reach others. It’s that simple…….

"Pogo........................"

In the original “Alice in Wonderland”, the main character encounters Humpty Dumpty who, in conversation with her, uses the word “glory”. When she informs him that she doesn’t understand its meaning, he scornfully replies “Of course you don’t, not until I tell you, for every word I speak means exactly what I choose it to mean, neither more nor less!” She observes that “The question is whether you can make words mean different things”; and he, unhindered in his vanity, simply states that “The question is only who is to be master. That’s all.”… I’m about halfway through my perusal of Alan E. Lewis’s “Between Cross and Resurrection”. Thus far it has mostly been like a “schematic” of historical Christianity’s putting divinity under a microscope and dissecting Trinity in an attempt to dissolve all the mystery. Not yet expressing his own personal theology, the author quotes Barth, Moltmann, Hegel, Jensen, Rahner, and Martin Luther, just to name a few prestigious names of those who, from the very beginning of this, have forged various images out of chapter and verse. They frame God in terms that suggest Him possessing an “eternal longing to become a man and to make of every man a god out of grace.” They describe Him as “being in becoming”, a deity experiencing metamorphosis, passing through eternity with us and evolving as He goes. Like the Jews, who took the Law and turned it into religion, so too has the Church complicated “Christ in me”, debating its simplicity until Christianity now comes in seventeen flavors, including several counterfeit imitations. While I applaud a need for believers to study their Bible, to investigate their salvation as they go, yet wisdom dictates our goal be forged out of a recognition of our humanity being part of the process. There is no doctrinal box of dogma big enough, strong enough correct enough, to completely hold Him captive; and pursuit ought to be more about a thirst to know His reality in our life than about some desire to label His parts…….

"Doodling..................."

Life: the honking of two wild geese flying overhead; the red-leafed branches of a small tree dancing in the cool breeze before me; the warm sun feeding substance into everything, including me as I wait outside the doctor’s office for Beth to return. People come and go, humanity defensive in its denial, comical in its character, all of us, for the most part, incognito, our real identity hidden, at least to some extent, and just going through the motions. We are a strange creation in the midst of all else that’s out there, yet singular in possessing ability to contemplate the mystery around us. “Being”, however, gets lost in the shuffle, swallowed up in the everyday events that define our existence. One breath turns into another. The calendar clicks. One day, two months, ten years. Where did it go? For that matter, what was it all about? I’m not so sure it would be any different looking back, though, should we have laid out some structured schedule to achieve and then achieved it. Things happen. The “in-between” is an Algebraic unknown depending on right time, right place, circumstance, and the individual who happens to catch the event. For me, therefore, the essential is in knowing “anchorage”, not so much in the temporal, but in He who transcends beginning and the end. When Eternity is a well within you, each pause that comes your way finds your mind “returning to the ark”, each person that you meet is one of His “works in progress”, and all things have “purpose”. The past is a memory, the future is in His hands, and this moment is a gift given. Here comes my wife. She’ll be ready for breakfast…….