"Linked........................."

The heat being what it was, Beth waited in the car while I circled the cemetery hillside looking for the scattered gravesites of my family. Each one, once re-discovered, always affects me in the same manner. I speak to the deceased, some deep inner connection bringing tears to my eyes, words of just how much they meant to me. Sadly, such bond between us was never so openly expressed, life simply occurring until one day dialogue was reduced to this… I watched “The Vow” with my wife Monday afternoon, a true story about a young married couple, he barely injured in an automobile accident, she suffering serious head trauma, surviving, but with no memory of anything other than those years prior to encountering him. At one point, his thoughts reveal a theology of how each of us are the sum total of every moment that we’ve ever experienced with all the people that we’ve ever known, such history shaping us along the way; “but,” he asks, “what happens if, somewhere in the journey, we no longer remember anything? Having just turned seventy last October and continually finding myself, more and more, going mentally blank on one thing or another, it is a question I can well appreciate. While our brain most certainly plays a vital role in our existence, though, is it my entire identity to the extent that, once it perishes or simply loses its potential, I’m no longer “there”? Or is it merely a computer given me while I’m “here”, the real “me” an eternal spark lit by a Creator unto whom it must return? And, if so, shouldn’t that somehow tie all of us together in a common bond stronger than the ways we manage to separate ourselves from each other?.........

"Mules........................"

It is inevitable that, if you stick me into a crowd of people, I’m either going to search out some isolated corner of the room and avoid conversation, or look for someone who also enjoys that which always occupies my thoughts. Realizing, however, that most believers are more inclined to discuss sports, motorcycles, indeed a wide range of topics that leave me looking ignorant, I try not to push my own preference on everyone and hopefully do not over assert myself with those few who find themselves on my list of “like-minded lovers of chewing on the Word”. So it was Saturday afternoon at the grandson’s graduation festivities. My assistant pastor, the same fellow who teaches the Wednesday evening class, was seated by himself. It seemed to me that his ear gets bent by this old man too much as it is. When Tony, my ministry buddy, took a seat nearby and I positioned myself in a chair beside him, though, Steve just drifted into our talk as it came forth. Nobody was splitting hairs over chapter and verse, simply speaking of life within the Body, church in general. Nevertheless, somewhere along the way, the preacher, with a grin on his face, told me that I was a stubborn man. “Bull-headed”, I replied, “might well be a better word for it.” We let it drop. There had been no ill will intended and none was taken, rooted and grounded in my faith plus walking by His inner anchor-line rather than simply “following the herd” being, to me, something that all members of the Body ought to embrace. Is there possible danger with such thinking? Of course! As long as one’s humanity is involved in the process, that divine tug on our reins will yet need an occasional reinforcement, bet it a boot in the butt or we, ourselves, falling flat on our face due to our own lack of judgment. One day, one step at a time, yet convinced as I go, not just swallowing everybody else’s theology……

"Reaping the Harvest................."

Mid-nineties yesterday for my grandson’s graduation party, but a cool breeze took a bit of the heaviness off the heat. The son-in-law had mowed the huge field between their log cabin and the road, moved the family cars down to the far end to make room for guests to park in the driveway, and then discovered everybody simply following his example until people passing by probably thought they were auctioning off the estate. Along with a couple of small awnings set up just in front of the entrance to the house, trees, here and there, provided enough shade for company to sit and enjoy conversation. A small basketball court, a volley-ball net, corn-hole units, and a new game resembling “bolos tossed to entangle themselves on miniature football goals” kept all the younger, competitive folk entertained. Enough food to feed an army was inside the house, plenty of water and cold drinks, but no alcohol. Guests gathered and mingled, the consistency of each little group continually changing. Good fellowship.

If the day was pleasant, however, friends and family tied together in marking a milestone reached, the crowning moment in the whole affair, for me, was caught by my camera the night before, with diplomas already presented and each individual in cap and gown now, one at a time, taking a rose with them to honor mom and dad. Lives do not always work out as we plan. Dreams get lost as we go, the journey shaping us, repositioning us, each story a mystery unfolding and a matter of humanity making and meeting its own destiny. I watched as some went to only one parent, others having to go to opposite sides of the sanctuary in order to complete their gratitude, circumstances unknown to me and none of my business; but there was, nonetheless, thankfulness in my heart as I snapped these pictures….

"Proof..........................."

“We have been trained to feed men, not with Christ, the Bread of Life, but rather with apologetic arguments…All philosophy, all theology that is vitally aware of its place in the true order of things, aspires to enter the cloud around the mountaintop where man may hope to meet the Living God. All true learning should therefore be alive with the sense of its own limitations and with the instinct for a vital experience of reality which speculation alone cannot provide… Any knowledge that pretends to offer us a clear and precise concept of God is inferior to the obscure experience of Him in the union produced by infused love. If we attribute too much power to our clear ideas of God, we will end up by making ourselves a god in our own image out of those clear ideas. If we do not grant concepts any power to tell us the truth about God, we will cut off all possible contact between our minds and Him”…Thomas Merton, “The Ascent to Truth”

Way back in 1951, Thomas Merton wrote in one of his many books, “The Ascent to Truth”, that the only thing that could save the world from complete moral collapse was spiritual revolution and that Christianity, by its very nature, demanded such revolution. The only hindrance to the latter, according to him, was the need for its members to live what they profess to believe. Was he talking about life style, what we do or do not do, an “old-time holiness” legality wherein we are made “sanctified and separated” from the “world”? When he states that, in order to accomplish any semblance of success in such task, we must be “vitalized by the supernatural power of His grace”, it is obvious to me that the Trappist monk speaks of Christ “in” me. While we need definitions, words to help us attempt any sort of understanding in the matter, yet we must learn that He, alone, breathes life into them, indeed is the very fullness of what they mean to us. Jesus conquered death and the grave, taking up residence with us via the Holy Ghost; and what we, as well as the world, need to see is not our faith in terms of some denominational, doctrinal credo, but the reality of that fact. Is it a stumble down the path? Yes! Yet who doesn’t know that our humanity remains involved in the process? What works, in spite of that, is humility and honesty coupled with the affirmation of His presence as we go…..

"Dialogue...................."

“Life isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass. It’s about learning how to dance in the rain”…..anonymous

“I believe that imagination is stronger than knowledge, that myth is more potent than history, and that dreams are more powerful than facts. I believe that hope always triumphs over experience, laughter is the only cure for grief, and love is stronger than death…. I do not believe life is a puzzle to be solved. Life is. Anything might happen; and I believe I may invest my life with meaning. The uncertainty is a blessing in disguise. If I were absolutely certain about all things, I would spend my life in anxious misery, fearful of losing my way; but since everything and anything are always possible, the miraculous is always nearby and wonders shall never ever cease”…..Robert Fulghum

I encountered the first quote above while waiting to pay for the purchase of a novel I recently discovered to have been written by the author of those words cited below the first. He has known many occupations in his lifetime, a Unitarian minister for awhile and the list too long for me to continue it here. There is little doubt that his theological views would probably clash with mine if we ever sat down to discuss “Thus sayeth the Bible”. Indeed, if one takes a second look at his credo, there is no mention of deity, just a declaration concerning a belief in his own merits, God perhaps there in the shadows, but unnamed in so far as possessing any specific identity. Still, I enjoy the wit he exhibits in his writing as he shares moments and events that have come his way; and I agree with much of what he says here about a man’s existence. Conversation between us wouldn’t have to involve warfare. In the Old Testament, Amos brought forth the question: “Can two walk together except they be agreed?” That depends, it seems to me, on whether the journey is purposed on that very issue that separates them. Friendship, common courtesy, and a simple wish to enjoy each other’s company, though, might just be enough for two old men to exchange thoughts without battling over mindsets…..

"Reminiscing..............................."

?.....

After morning worship and dinner at O’Charley’s, Beth and the oldest daughter left me at home while they drove to get themselves a pedicure; and, with an hour or so to kill, I opted to take my first walk outside in about six months. The temperature was in the upper eighties, but a slight breeze made it a pleasant experience, especially while hiking along the shaded trail through the wooded section separating the railroad tracks from the creek.

If my view was obstructed by all the shrubbery and branches on either side of me, the sounds of people picnicking nonetheless let me know the park was full of life. Indeed, everywhere I looked, once across the bridge, families were tossing horseshoes, grilling hotdogs, and watching the kids chase each other to get the best swing on the playground. It was the sight of children, however, ankle-deep in the water and, with their father, trying to catch minnows with a net that took me back about sixty years. We lived in the inner city and at least part of what summer meant was the fun of camping out on a river bank somewhere. The Ohio was close if all we had was a weekend. I suppose it was the Licking that we so often visited down in Cynthiana, my only memory of it being that spot where we pitched the tents and the overflow from some nearby dam creating shallow where us youngins searched for crawdads. It was different times. We cooked over an open fire, sacked out in sleeping bags, and explored the area looking for vines strong enough to support Tarzan as he swung through the jungle. Nowadays “roughing it” is no more than loading your RV with all the modern technology you own and parking it wherever you decide to stop, knowing that if you get hungry, McDonalds is right down the road a mile or so. Where’s the adventure in that?

"Check Point..........................."

Tony, in speaking to the men at the rescues mission Wednesday evening, confessed that when he was first invited to come with our group nearly ten years ago his immediate thoughts were about being able to share the Gospel with some homeless people who knew nothing about Christ. What he discovered along the way, however, was that circumstances don’t eliminate people from the human race. The only difference about “church” there and “church” where we worship every week is these fellows constitute a multi-denominational gathering. There may well be an atheist or two in the bunch, a Muslim perhaps, but they’re well out-numbered by Catholics, Baptists, you-name-it. The mixture varies; and I like it that way. One can just speak his heart without having to worry about crossing some individual doctrinal standard set in concrete. The minds here, in this venue, may be just as well predisposed as those occupying some fancy sanctuary elsewhere, their history marked by a religious tutoring at one point or another. At the same time, though, they’ve heard it all here and they listen to a voice coming to them out of life, not just chapter and verse. Not that my words aren’t measured. They are; but that, in itself, is all I seek. Don’t accept me as having it all figured out. Take it with you and chew it over as you go, following His tug on your anchor-line……