A New Dawn

Today's sunrise marks, not only the start of a new day for me, but also the start of a new year AND a new decade.  I find myself uncharacteristically excited about the #. Granted, that could change dramatically in a few short hours b/c...after all, I am a 50-year-old female, a creature not known for stability. 

My 40s were best embodied in Psalm 88 - years marked by weeping and desperate pleas for help, redemption, and restoration.  This is the only Psalm that ends without a declaration of hope and that resonated with me during these difficult years.  

But...BECAUSE the Lord heard me and preserved me, my hope is renewed and I begin this decade with Psalm 30 on my lips.  BECAUSE he drew me out of many waters, I am certain of his favor and fully confident that he can and will hold me firmly to the end. My mourning has turned to dancing and I enter this new decade with expectation rather than dread or fear. 

The steadfast love of the Lord endures forever. 

And now...? We celebrate!!

Psalm 32

Blessed is he whose unrighteousness is forgiven, & whose sin is covered. Blessed is the man unto whom the Lord im puteth no sin, and in whose spirit there is no guile.

For while I held my tongue, my bones consumed away through my daily complaining. For thy hand is heavy upon me day and night, and my moisture is like the drought in summer. I will acknowledge my sin unto thee; and mine un righteousness have I not hid. I said, I will confess my sins unto the Lord; and so thou forgavest the wickedness of my sin.

For this shall every one that is godly make his prayer unto thee, in a time when thou mayest be found; but in the great waterfloods they shall not come nigh him. Thou art a place to hide me in; thou shalt preserve me from trouble. Thou shalt compass me about with songs of deliverance.

I will inform thee, and teach thee in the way wherein thou shalt go; and I will guide thee with mine eye. Be ye not like to horse and mule, which have no understanding, whose mouths must be held with bit and bridle, if they will not obey thee. Great plagues remain for the ungodly; but whoso putteth his trust in the Lord, mercy embraceth him on every side.

Be glad, O ye righteous, and rejoice in the Lord; and be joyful, all ye that are true of heart. 

Sonnets from the Portuguese XXXII

         Sonnet XXXII

The first time that the sun rose on thine oath
To love me, I looked forward to the moon
To slacken all those bonds which seemed too soon
And quickly tied to make a lasting troth.
Quick-loving hearts, I thought, may quickly loathe;
And, looking on myself, I seemed not one
For such man’s love!—more like an out-of-tune
Worn viol, a good singer would be wroth
To spoil his song with, and which, snatched in haste,
Is laid down at the first ill-sounding note.
I did not wrong myself so, but I placed
A wrong on thee.  For perfect strains may float
’Neath master-hands, from instruments defaced,—
And great souls, at one stroke, may do and doat.

The Way of Sorrow

"But we all with open face beholding as in a glass the glory of the Lord are changed into the same image from glory to glory, even as by the Spirit of the Lord."

Where is the Lord's glory revealed...this glory into which we are being changed?  Not in displays of power and might and authority.  Not in miracles.  Not in acts of usurpation.  None of these are the means by which the glory of God is made known to us.  He shows his true self on the cross.  In his suffering and death...in taking upon himself the burden of all our sin...in absorbing all the wrath our rebellion deserves...in laying down his life that we might live...in THIS the fullness of his glory is made manifest.  As we look upon him there, we begin to understand that for us too, this is the path by which we are transformed from one degree of glory to the next, until his glory - the Imago Dei - is made manifest in us.

This is a hard saying.  We are not inclined to choose suffering.  Who wouldn't rather rest in the garden of ease than trudge the way of grief?  Yet the place of ease is not the place where we learn patience, long-suffering, and abiding love.  These virtues are formed in us as we enter hard places of fear and uncertainty...as we walk in sorrow and absorb the hurts that others inflict on us...as we grieve over the pain we have imposed on others...as we encounter disappointment, loss, injustice, loneliness, sickness, failure, and death.  

He sends us into the wilderness "to test us, to prove us, and to show us what is in our hearts."  It is his unrelenting love, his commitment to capture our hearts, his determination to see us re-made, that compels him to lead us down the "via dolorosa."  Suffering is the mirror that reveals our hearts: our loves, our motivations, our commitments.  When light reaches and exposes those dark corners, we can no longer hide from others or ourselves.  Our tendencies to escape, to fight, to protect or justify ourselves, to trust in our own strength and our own schemes more than in our Saviour...these all rise to the surface where we are forced to confront the truth about ourselves.  This then brings us face to face with  the truth about the God who not only sends US into the wilderness to be transformed, but who entered the wilderness HIMSELF so that he might transform our mortal lives into glorious - weighty and beautiful - reflections of his own self-giving love.

He is making good on his promises, not in spite of, but by way of our grief.  He remembers us.  He loves us enough not to abandon us to our own shallow peace in a garden of ease.

Gilead

Poetic, lyrical, luminous. These are the words that repeatedly came to mind while reading Marilynne Robinson's Gilead.  That is, when I wasn't too overwhelmed with the emotions her writing evokes to overlay them with thought.

She artfully holds a mirror nearer and nearer the heart, forcing us to encounter head-on the universal, internal struggle to reconcile the pain and the beauty of life, while attempting to live out our deeply held beliefs in both individual and community relationships.  

This intensely personal, yet mostly unremarkable, struggle is undertaken alongside others whose own internal struggles are similar yet disparate - even antithetical - to our own and yet, for them, carry the same profundity, mystery, and power that our own do.  

For Reverend Ames, ordinary life is a continuous self-dialogue that seeks to make sense of all these internal and external enigmas.  Sometimes the conclusion we seek - love for another - requires an extended and steady pursuit.  When it finally blossoms, it is a lasting and peace-inducing treasure.

If you read Gilead, don't stop there.  Home, though written subsequently, chronicles the same timeframe in the same town with the same families, as seen through the eyes of characters other than Ames.  Surely this has been done before, but no instances come to mind.  It is pure brilliance.  

Life with Ms. Julie

My phone rang in the middle of the work day.  

"Julie" my screen announced.  

My initial "Oi-vay" was quickly followed by, "Gosh, I hope she's OK."  

She IS ok, but it's been a bad day for Ms. Julie.  Though she began the conversation with, "My toilet is stopped up!" she went on to enumerate a day filled with trials.  A dead battery (AAA rescued her...and the gentlemen happened to recognize her as his 3rd grade teacher: "I know you...you're Ms. Clark!")  A fender bender in the Walgreens parking lot, which she fears will cause her license to be revoked.  A stopped up toilet, which is pretty much the bane of her existence.  And a landlord who dared to retrieve rent checks from the hallway without taking her garbage to the dumpster...which BY THE WAY is overflowing and THEY AREN'T PICKING UP UNTIL THURSDAY (kind of like every other week...?).  

If I didn't absolutely adore her...well, I do...so it's all good.  All I had to do was promise to dispose of her garbage and check out her toilet when I got home...AND reveal the hiding spot for my apartment key so she could use my bathroom.

Following through on my promises earned me a set of wings...AAAAAND...my very own Sound of Music sing-a-long to commemorate its 60th anniversary.  Ms. Julie tickled the ivory on her baby grand and I, of course, killed on vocals...while Julie Andrews herself looked on almost-approvingly from the signed photograph on top of the piano.  She's famous like that, Ms. Julie.  Her apartment is filled with momentos from the world of Broadway and its stars, all addressing their personal devotion to her.

Sure, I "miraculously" unstopped her perfectly-working toilet (earning me the appellation of "my very own Roto Rooter"!),  I found room for her garbage in the overflowing (70% full!) dumpster, I carried her empty reusable grocery bags down to her trunk, and gave my very professional evaluation of the nearly-invisible scratch on her bumper...AND I spent a sweltering 30 minutes in her 90 degree apartment!  But while she thinks I'm the one blessing her...and I suppose I am...SHE is so full of spunk (and worry) and joy (and worry) and fascinating life stories (and worry), that I'm pretty sure I derive the most pleasure from our encounters.   

I fear I shall be a mite lonely when she's gone.  Long live Ms. Julie!!

The Blessing

"The Lord bless you and keep you; the Lord make his face shine upon you and be gracious to you; the Lord turn his face toward you and give you peace."

I no longer lift my hands to receive that blessing with even the slightest bit of indifference.   Having experienced the loss and extended absence of each of those blessings, the restoration of them is dear and precious.  To have them spoken over me each Sunday is powerful.

Music Monday: Dynamic Duos

Luke Winslow King & Esther Rose

Corey Chisel & Adriel Danae

Over the Rhine - Linford Detweiler & Karen Bergquist

Whitehorse - Luke Doucet & Melissa McClelland

Jay Ungar & Molly Mason

Civil Wars: Joy Williams & John Paul White

Shovels & Rope

Jason Isbell & Amanda Shires

Music Monday: A Communion Hymn

LOST, ALL LOST IN WONDER

Thomas Aquinas

 Godhead here in hiding, whom I do adore,
Masked by these bare shadows, shape and nothing more,
See, Lord, at thy service low lies here a heart
Lost, all lost in wonder at the God thou art.

Seeing, touching, tasting are in thee deceived:
How says trusty hearing? that shall be believed;
What God's Son has told me, take for truth I do;
Truth himself speaks truly or there's nothing true.

On the cross thy godhead made no sign to men,
Here thy very manhood steals from human ken:
 Both are my confession, both are my belief,
And I pray the prayer of the dying thief.

I am not like Thomas, wounds I cannot see,
But can plainly call thee Lord and God as he;
Let me to a deeper faith daily nearer move,
Daily make me harder hope and dearer love.

O thou our reminder of Christ crucified,
Living Bread, the life of us for whom he died,
Lend this life to me then: feed and feast my mind,
There be thou the sweetness man was meant to find.

Bring the tender tale true of the Pelican;
Bathe me, Jesu Lord, in what thy bosom ran---
Blood whereof a single drop has power to win
All the world forgiveness of its world of sin.

Jesu, whom I look at shrouded here below,
I beseech thee send me what I thirst for so,
Some day to gaze on thee face to face in light
And be blest for ever with thy glory's sight. Amen.

(translation of Gerard Manley Hopkins, S.J.)

The Idol of Obedience

"All the way...right away...with a good attitude...every day."

What an absolutely wretched paradigm for parenting.

Unless, of course, our aim is to create either perfectionistic, self-righteous little Pharisees, or defeated, self-loathing little prodigals.

This is NOT Christian parenting!  This is gospel-denying, moralistic striving that engenders smug self-satisfaction in those inclined toward obedience and cynical disregard in those inclined toward rebellion.  Neither of these are fruits of righteousness.  Both are antithetical to living in the Good News that Jesus has rescued ALL of us from ourselves...the obedient and disobedient alike.  BOTH need him because neither can save himself!!

I regret parenting under this paradigm.  Even though I thought it was *right* at the time, I now see that underneath it was my own moralistic striving to prove myself worthy of the appellation "Christian parent."  Make that GOOD...or better yet..."EXCEPTIONAL Christian parent."  Obedient, moral children would prove that my own faith and life were genuine.  What a burdensome way of life, not only for me, but for my sons.

In reality, this is simple proof that I am in as much need of the gracious gospel of Jesus as my sons were/are.  Because of the mercy of God in Christ, I don't have to despair of my parenting failures.  I have confessed my sins and errors to my sons and though I hope they have heard and responded, my hope for them does not lie in my ability to adequately confess or right my wrongs.  My confidence is that HE is fully capable of bringing them to himself and healing any hurt, damage, or distorted beliefs they have as a result of my parenting, whether through or apart from my acknowledgement.

Bottom line: even if I had parented as perfectly as humanly possible...even if I had more accurately taught and displayed the Good News, in the end, the ONLY thing that will save them...or ME...is the work of Jesus Christ, who loves us and delivers us and draws us near even when we don't obey all the way...right away...with a good attitude...every day. 

Our father is forever faithful, he knows our frame, he gives us eyes to see ourselves when we're ready, and he grants us repentance and life.  And we can trust him to do the same for our children.  Thanks be to God.

NOTE: This is not about self-flagellation, nor am I seeking accolades for my parenting, nor is it an indictment of my sons!  I dearly loved my boys and tried - in the best way I knew how at the time - to shower them with love, to train their hearts to love God, and to allow them joy in the process.  I did some things right along the way.  BUT...as I grow and change and experience The Good News in new ways in my own life, my perspective changes and I see my parenting differently.   I hope to challenge/encourage young parents or to-be parents (such as my own sons...) to formulate their expectations for obedience from a more gracious stance and with a view to their children's AND THEIR OWN ongoing need for Jesus.

Win-Win

I drove nearly 1000 miles this weekend to watch my boy play basketball.  

No...he isn't spoiled.  And no...I am not an obsessed, overly-involved mother who can't let go.  But this is kind of a big deal.

This Man-Child of mine arrived at this place by a long, circuitous route.  He wanted to attend Covenant College since he was about 13, but for various reasons, it was never an option until this year, and he had to overcome some fairly large obstacles.  It's true that some very caring souls stuck out their necks to assist him, but ultimately the risk and the work to shed the burdens that haunted him, required commitment and perseverance on his part. 

Every mile was worth it because it allowed me to participate in the joy of a son who has cast off his past and is pursuing his passions.  His dreams are simple: Teach.  Coach.  Love kids.  He is on the path to fulfilling those dreams and for me to be on the sideline cheering him on, is the fulfillment of mine. 

Music Monday: Norah

Gender & Grace

I finally finished VanLeeuwen's book.  She asks all of the questions I have been asking for years regarding Christian assumptions  and conclusions about gender and sexuality, and she attempts to answer them according to her knowledge of science and consistent hermeneutical principles applied to Scripture.   I believe she succeeds, offering Christians a solid biblical approach to a host of questions that plague us.  For those of you who panic at the very thought of placing our gender views under the microscope, perhaps (*perhaps*) the closing paragraph of the book might put you at ease:

"When all is said and done, the struggle for Christian freedom is not between men and women, nor even between feminists and traditionalists.  The struggle is within each one of us, male and female, between the old person and the new person, between the flesh and the Spirit, between the impulse to be first among all and the call to become the servant of many.  Debates about sex and gender will be around for a long time to come, both in the community of the church and the community of social science.  But long after our current questions have been settled or forgotten, the radical words of Jesus to his followers, both women and men, will ring down through history from the Gospel of John: 'Unless a grain of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it cannot bear fruit.'  And this is a saying which will rightly continue to offend us all." 

STL: The Best Baseball Town

I know many unknowingly accuse St. Louis of naming THEMSELVES as the Best Fans in Baseball, but I can assure you that isn't the case.  St. Louis is a relatively humble town.  We LOVE our baseball team and are proud of their history and proven performance year after year, and we enjoy some of the names that have been applied to us, but trust me when I say, they are NOT self-assignations!   Imported players and TV commentators are the primary source for the "high-praise" that comes to Cardinals' fans, and now we can officially add The Commissioner to that list of those who recognize something special about the relationship between St. Louis and baseball.  

Maybe one day I'll write about that connection, but for now, I'll leave you with Mr. Selig's contribution to the conversation: 

"With world championships, perennial contention, a pipeline of homegrown players, [a] beautiful ballpark [and] continuity on and off the field, the Redbirds embody the blueprint for every team, not only in baseball, but in sports. I commend [owner Bill DeWitt Jr.] and his entire organization for building an era of Cardinal baseball that is a fair reward for the St. Louis fans, whose unwavering support continues to amaze. I really -- I wanna say this. I go to all 30 cities, obviously there’s supposed to be a neutrality, but I’ve said this many times and I’ll say it again: You are the best baseball town in America, and there is no doubt about it."  

--Bud Selig, January 2015

When We Two Parted

WHEN WE TWO PARTED

by: George Gordon (Lord) Byron (1788-1824)

When we two parted
In silence and tears,
Half broken-hearted
To sever for years,
Pale grew thy cheek and cold,
Colder thy kiss;
Truly that hour foretold
Sorrow to this.

The dew of the morning
Sunk chill on my brow--
It felt like the warning
Of what I feel now.
Thy vows are all broken,
And light is thy fame:
I hear thy name spoken,
And share in its shame.

They name thee before me,
A knell to mine ear;
A shudder comes o'er me--
Why wert thou so dear?
They know not I knew thee,
Who knew thee too well:
Long, long shall I rue thee,
Too deeply to tell.

In secret we met--
In silence I grieve,
That thy heart could forget,
Thy spirit deceive.
If I should meet thee
After long years,
How should I greet thee?
With silence and tears.

I'm Fine -- How Are You?

At the end of recent visit with my Grandma Waggoner, she gave me this piece of paper and had me read it out loud to her.  She gave me the copy, which I treasure because it is in her handwriting!

I'm Fine -- How Are You?

There's nothing the matter with me,

I'm just as healthy as can be.

I have arthritis in both knees,

and when I talk, I talk with a wheeze.

My pulse is weak, my blood is thin,

but I'm awfully well for the shape I'm in.

My memory's failing, my head's in a spin,

But I'm awfully well for the shape I'm in.

Old age is golden -- I've heard it said,

But I sometimes wonder as I go to bed.  

With my ears in a  drawer, my teeth in a cup,

and my glasses on a shelf until I get up.

And when sleep dims my eyes, I say to myself,

Is there anything else I should lay on the shelf?

The reason I know my youth has been spent,

Is my get-up-and-go has got-up-and-went!

But really I don't mind, when I think with a grin,

Of all the places my get-up has been.

The moral of this as the tale unfolds,

Is that for you and me who are growing old,

It is better to say, "I"m fine" with a grin,

Than to let people know the shape we are in!

From the Sea

From the Sea

by Sara Teasdale

All beauty calls you to me, and you seem,
Past twice a thousand miles of shifting sea
To reach me.  You are as the wind I breathe
Here on the ship's sun-smitten topmost deck,
With only light between the heavens and me.
I feel your spirit and I close my eyes,
Knowing the bright hair blowing in the sun,
The eager whisper and the searching eyes.

Listen, I love you.  Do not turn your face
Nor touch me.  Only stand and watch a while 
The blue unbroken circle of the sea.
Look far away and let me ease my heart
Of words that beat in it with broken wing.
Look far away, and if I say too much,
Forget that I am speaking.  Only watch,
how like a gull that sparkling sinks to rest,
The foam-crest drifts along a happy wave
Toward the bright verge, the boundary of the world.

I am so weak a thing, praise me for this,
That in some strange way I was strong enough
To keep my love unuttered and to stand
Altho' I longed to kneel to you that night
You looked at me with ever-calling eyes.
Was I not calm?  And if you guessed my love
You thought it something delicate and free,
Soft as the sound of fir-trees in the wind
Fleeting as the phosphorescent stars in foam.
Yet in my heart there was a beating storm
Bending my thoughts before it, and I strove
To say too little lest I say too much,
And from my eyes to drive love's happy shame.
It seemed like other names to me, and I
Was all unconscious, as a dreaming river
That nears at last its long predestined sea;
And when you spoke to me, I did not know
That to my life's high altar came its priest.
But now I know between my God and me 
You stand forever, nearer God than I,
And in your hand with faith and utter joy
I would that I could lay my woman's soul.

Oh, my love
To whom I cannot come with any gift 
Of body or of soul, I pass and go.
But sometimes when you hear blown back to you
My wistful, far-off singing touched with tears,
Know that I sang for you alone to hear,
And that I wondered if the wind would bring
To him who tuned my heart its distant song.
So might a woman who in loneliness
Had borne a child, dreaming of days to come,
Wonder if it would please its father's eyes.
But long before I ever heard your name,
Always the undertone's unchanging note
In all my singing had prefigured you,
Foretold you as a spark foretells a flame.
Yet I was free as an untethered cloud
In the great space between the sky and sea,
And might have blown before the wind of joy
Like a bright banner woven by the sun.
I did not know the longing in the night--
You who have waked me cannot give me sleep.
All things in the world can rest, but I,
Even the smooth brief respite of a wave
When it gives up its broken crown of foam,
Even that little rest I may not have.
And yet all quiet loves of friends, all joy
In all the piercing beauty of the world
I would give up--go blind forevermore,
Rather than have God blot out from my soul
Remembrance of your voice that said my name.

For us no starlight stilled the April fields,
No birds awoke in darkling trees for us,
Yet where we walked the city's street that night
Felt in our feet the singing fire of spring,
And in our path we left a trail of light
Soft as the phosphorescence of the sea
When night submerges in the vessel's wake
A heaven of unborn evanescent stars.

Happy New Year Y'all

A grand celebratory performance from the usually thoughtful and artistic Mumford & Sons, the rowdy bluegrass crew from Old Crow Medicine Show, and the absolutely out-of-their-minds band Edward Sharpe and The Magnetic Zeros:

Music Monday: Over the Rhine

A new-to-me husband and wife duo: Over the Rhine  

HT: Ryan Laughlin - thanks for the intro.

Gender & Grace

I was first introduced to Mary Stewart VanLeeuwen in the early 1990's through a Presbyterian journal. Although I wasn't quite ready for her ideas, I was impressed with her attitude of humility and her gracious tone.  

The distinguishing marks of prominent feminists at that time, were anger and denigration of men, NOT humility and grace!  I found Ms. VanLeeuwen antithetical to my views of feminism.  I also found her theological views antithetical to mine…or at least too much of a stretch for me to assimilate at that time.  But her attitude and tone struck a basic chord in me and caused me to remember her.  

In particular, her call to women to wait patiently and humbly for the Spirit of God to do a work in his people that would lead to greater respect for and incorporation into the "important" aspects of civic and church life, was powerful.  Though she sincerely believed that things were askew in the church, she also sincerely believed that being assertive, angry, and demanding were not Christian avenues to fomenting biblical change. 

I am just now…nearly 25 years later…getting around to reading her books.  My respect continues to increase based on her scholarship and her honesty.  She holds tightly to the foundational truths of the Scriptures, holding them in higher regard than American cultural norms…something MANY of us are hard-pressed to do.  We perceive the interpretations of our own time and place as representative of The Truth, and sometimes refuse to see the distorting effects of the Fall on our own application of God's creative and redemptive work.  She assigns responsibility to both men and women for the current state of gender perception and roles.  She considers multiple anthropological studies, philosophy of culture, created design, nature, nurture, biology, psychology, etc. as influences on our perceptions of gender in the narrative of creation, fall, redemption, and restoration.  

Because of her wide-reaching approach and her reverence for God's Truth and creative design, I commend her writing to you as worthy of consideration.