"Enigma........................."

It surprised me a bit, having missed the initial class in our Bible study of the Book of Acts, to find myself now but one of two with a history of having walked in old-time holiness. My partner in such distinction was no more than a young child when I first joined that bunch in the old church, leaving me to wonder about the absence of my other friends, those also having reached the status of being “senior citizens”. We’ve got two Baptists in my age group who never miss, the rest of the group, on this occasion at least, with less than fifteen of us there, Pentecostal, but their thinking influenced by all that’s changed since we put “legalism” behind us. There are two teachers who rotate in bringing forth a lesson, two different perspectives, two different personalities; and, in truth, it’s hard for me to just let some things slide, the one fellow entrenched in a more Charismatic point of view. That is, at the same time, however, what make me anxious to return each week, disappointed when revival or some other event knocks it off my calendar. We talk. We share. We look at our faith from each other’s perspective without going to war. Here and there we “connect”, the Holy Ghost showing up to manifest Himself in our midst. Tony, last night, briefly commented on one of those verses in the second chapter where it deals with Jesus being crucified and, when his eyes began to tear, his voice quivering, we encouraged him to continue. What we heard was an experience encountered once in a moment of prayer, a spiritual merging with Christ as He hung on the Cross, a tale much resembling a dream once given to me. He and I would talk afterwards of what the “death penalty” actually was. It would have been good to have discussed it with all; but you learn to walk with caution. Not all are ready for deep waters. One step at a time and as He opens the door. I’m just grateful for these who can come together as we do, finding unity in Him without demanding a cloned doctrinal dogma….

"Community.................."

It surprised me a bit, having missed the initial class in our Bible study of the Book of Acts, to find myself now but one of two with a history of having walked in old-time holiness. My partner in such distinction was no more than a young child when I first joined that bunch in the old church, leaving me to wonder about the absence of my other friends, those also having reached the status of being “senior citizens”. We’ve got two Baptists in my age group who never miss, the rest of the group, on this occasion at least, with less than fifteen of us there, Pentecostal, but their thinking influenced by all that’s changed since we put “legalism” behind us. There are two teachers who rotate in bringing forth a lesson, two different perspectives, two different personalities; and, in truth, it’s hard for me to just let some things slide, the one fellow entrenched in a more Charismatic point of view. That is, at the same time, however, what make me anxious to return each week, disappointed when revival or some other event knocks it off my calendar. We talk. We share. We look at our faith from each other’s perspective without going to war. Here and there we “connect”, the Holy Ghost showing up to manifest Himself in our midst. Tony, last night, briefly commented on one of those verses in the second chapter where it deals with Jesus being crucified and, when his eyes began to tear, his voice quivering, we encouraged him to continue. What we heard was an experience encountered once in a moment of prayer, a spiritual merging with Christ as He hung on the Cross, a tale much resembling a dream once given to me. He and I would talk afterwards of what the “death penalty” actually was. It would have been good to have discussed it with the whole group; but you learn to walk with caution. Not all are ready for deep waters. One step at a time and as He opens the door. I’m just grateful for these who can come together as we do, finding unity in Him without demanding a cloned doctrinal dogma….

"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…….