"Hook-up..............................."

From my balcony this morning there is hope of sunshine. The strong winds have, for the most part, ceased; and, while the sky above me is still overcast, yet the horizon brings to me a defined point where the clouds cease. A distant blue ceiling over the sea grows larger and larger as the gray mass slowly drifts to the east. It is the lone pelican, though, with its wings outstretched and drifting by in such unruffled manner, that takes my thoughts into familiar territory. “Why,” I wonder, “is it so hard for men to at least recognize the existence of a Creator?” Forget the whole theory of evolution, the hypothesis of how long the Earth has been here, and the mind-boggling enigma of this universe within which we are contained. It takes nothing more than the lush green foliage around me to make a convincing argument for God. No brain. No “intelligence” at all. In its design, however, is an abundance of evidence, distinct characteristics that clearly point to, not just “poof!”, up popped a mutated copy of something else, but clearly an artistic mind imprinting itself in ferns and ivy, palm trees and pine, delicate orange blossoms, too much to even try to list here. Surely it is not a question of His being, as much as it is “how can I connect and know Him in as much as it might be possible?” A man needs ears that hear and eyes that see; and this is just what Christ extends unto us via the Holy Spirit: not a “get out of hell free” pass issued to all those with their name on some church roster, but an individual, personal “anchor-line” whereby a man might touch the hem of His garment. It’s a glimpse, not a complete understanding, a step into the light without any ability to harness any revelation given. Even so, I find, within it, peace and assurance for my soul……

"Soap...................................."

With Frank Sinatra in the background crooning “Send In the Clowns”, a video clip sent to me by my sister-in-law provided segments of comedy skits from the early days of television: Sid Caesar and Imogene Coca, George Burns and Gracie Allen, Milton Berle, Red Skelton - the list too long to continue. It was simple, “clean” humor, slapstick stupidity that, as Orson Welles put it near the end, was more of a “beautiful, exuberant, childlike zaniness”, the veteran actor pondering if it all was just “the product of a different time, another generation”. Indeed, it does seem as if not only are the great ones gone, but their spirit, their style, of laughter is no more as well. Do we explain such loss as merely a matter of what amuses us having evolved? Or would it be closer to truth to say that we, as a society, have passed through a metamorphosis? I watched a bit of history on the Smothers Brothers the other day, remembering how the pair, in the late sixties, took humor into another arena. Moral issues and politics became the targets of opinionated ridicule, succeeding to the point of Saturday Night Live opening in seventy-five with no holds barred; and, from there, depending on your personal perspective, it’s been a downhill slide into the mud. The world will always be the world, of course; humanity has always been humanity; but where, I wonder, is the Church? If Christ “in” us be a living reality rather than a debatable proposition, then why do we not influence more that which we inhabit on a daily basis? Could it be that we’re just too busy swinging our swords and tilting at windmills, demanding that we, alone, possess truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth? Maybe we just need to concentrate more on our becoming better vessels through which He can, Himself, be manifested unto the mass……..

"Listen.............................."

Most people who visit the beach probably don’t philosophize about the experience. Some hours in the sun, sand castles and sea shells: why get so (pardon the pun) “into the deep” over a bit of rest and relaxation? For me, though, it matters not the location. There is an inner desire to know, if only in part, the mystery behind it all. I sit here on the balcony listening to the rhythmic sound of ocean waves rolling in to spill upon the shoreline, the melody almost as if the horizon beckons a man to come. The sailor in me wishes to answer. The old man, however, is content with merely hearing the call, feeling the tug on the anchor-line. After all, the answers I seek have nothing to do with adventure, at least not in the sense of navigating that stretch of water before me. Within me is a greater distance, already spanned in so far as being connected to the One who created all things, and yet a need ever existing for me to mentally and spiritually “give up the ghost” if I am to find peace in Him. It is that pull, that draw, more so than that which my ears bring to me in the otherwise stillness of the world presently around me. One just sets the stage for the other. Out of His well, I am refreshed. There, at His oasis, all else is explained......

"Agriculture........................"

Last night’s visit to the rescue mission was no great emergence into God’s presence. The room was nearly full with a variety of faces, young, old, black, white, nobody familiar. For whatever reason, it was a crowd of drifters, nobody from the neighborhood at all; and yet, looking into their eyes, I could see the same assortment of personalities that always meet us there. Some smile and shake their head in agreement. Others show deep thought, their brows and their mouths, without opening, expressing a mental digestion process taking place within them. They laugh with us. They “eat” with us. On this occasion, one fellow, inside and out of the heat, seated on a full stomach, succumbed to slumber, his head pressed against the wall and his body upright in the chair. Thankfully, no snoring. I thought it a bit of coincidence when Dave opened up the meeting by taking us to a certain verse in Deuteronomy which had just been brought to my attention the day before by a pastor friend in Alabama. It’s a text that the Jews refer to as the “Shema”, a word meaning “to hear”, but to hear in the sense of “obeying”. To put it another way, the term suggests the possibility of our not just merely receiving verbal transmission audibly, but having the truth of whatever is said to break open unplowed ground and cause fruit to come forth. This isn’t just a matter of ears taking in sound waves, eyes framing whatsoever is in front of them without pondering the truth of what they see. We’re talking “enlightenment” to the point of “reaction”. I might even go one step farther to say: That which is sown into the brain somehow gets into a man’s “belly”, the heart and soul of who and what he is. Jesus called it being “born again”; and, while believers equate such phrase to a re-connecting with God through the Holy Spirit, where we tend to come up short is in thinking it to be a one-time experience. I don’t know about others; but, for me, the initial encounter simply opened the door for multiple reenactments……

"Discernment............................"

It’s a common occurrence in my church for a message in tongues to come forth, an interpretation thereof following almost immediately and usually rendered by whomsoever delivers the first. The content tends to be something edifying, occasionally prophetic, but never to the extent of setting a date for the Lord’s return or declaring a need for everybody to empty their wallets into the offering plate. I believe it Biblical. Indeed, if Christ “in” me testifies to the reality of a living Savior who somehow co-inhabits me through the Third Person of the Godhead, then the gifts of the Spirit, all of the gifts, ought to be a potential occurrence for anyone possessing genuine membership within the Body. For it to happen certainly doesn’t indicate that the vessel through which it flows holds higher status than another. The anointing is about ministry, not self-exultation; and, in truth, that the Holy Ghost should manifest Himself via humanity at all is just more evidence of grace. Invite our ego into the process and the probability of the finished product being less than sanctified is a given. Doesn’t that apply equally, however, to any manner that Deity might choose to bear witness through us? A sermon can be just as full of vanity as “yea, I say unto thee”. That’s why the walk remains an individual determination with the need to sort out all the junk as we go, our hand in His hand, our head and heart connected to His anchor-line, steady in the journey…….

"Homegrown........................."

For the past week, a few hours at a time, I’ve been helping my brother-in-law put together some wire cages that will help protect his ninety tomato plants from becoming lunch for all the deer that roam this neck of the woods. He’s got six years on me and when I suggested to him that, for all the money he’s spending, his crop is costing him about five dollars a pound, he just laughed and said, “Yep; but next year they’re free!” His older sibling and his father, both, were in their eighties and still tending huge gardens when they passed. It’s a generational exercise, though, that seems to me about to meet its demise. Even if one has a yard big enough to hold a plot, who has time any more to tend to its needs? Farmers are few and, likewise, how many women yet possess any knowledge of preserving food for future use. Produce is shipped in from out of state and available at Wal-Mart. This is no longer your grandmother’s world and in more ways than one. Humanity remains humanity; people are still people; but we live as we think and our thinking is shaped as we go. It matters much, the environment around us. We speak of technological progress. We don’t consider that which is lost in the exchange. It is a slow process, an “evolution” not so much in the sense of physical transformation, but rather a spiritual one, a mental metamorphosis that slowly possesses us. I see it in the world. I see it in the Church. Not talking life changes here, but morals, ethics, the basic elements of who and what we are. Not so much individually, but as a society. Christ, alone, is an anchor-line and, even in Him, it is a stagger…….

"Walls..........................."

In looking up a foreign word referred to in a book I’m reading, it seems that, even though it can be equated with “actual”, the Germans, themselves, have a hard time explaining its use in linguistics. That leaves me with the author’s definition of “eigentlich”, one which stirred my thoughts enough to search a little deeper. The term means (or so he says) “a unique quality of one’s essential being, what you cannot escape from about yourself, what you hold on to despite everything, what doesn’t fall away through whatever storms you pass in life.” That seems to be cramming a whole lot into ten letters; but, then, it would only take me three to capture it all as well. Within the same story, one of the characters confides in another concerning his only fear being of “falling into that final darkness all alone” and his one need being what he calls a “witness”, someone there spiritually, if not physically, someone who, out of their own mutual understanding, can reach out to him and say “I know”. Surely, in our journey here, we all can identify with that confession. Loneliness is more than simply finding yourself without tangible companionship. Humanity, however, can only meet us in such space as we presently occupy. A friend can walk with you only as far as the grave. God, however, “spans the gap”, linking the here and now with eternity and driving out all fear with the assurance of His presence. He knows us from the inside out; yet, in spite of all, is willing to be an anchor for our soul if we are but honest in the relationship and surrendered to His tug on the anchor-line. Grace: not just a Biblical term, but a tangible Reality within me. In Him there is rest……