Borne To Blog

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com Copyright 2011 Milt Wear
Borne to Blog
Contents
INTRODUCTION .........................................................................................................3 FAMILY ........................................................................................................................6 VALUES......................................................................................................................13 FINDING WAYS ........................................................................................................19 CHRISTIAN HUMOR ................................................................................................25 INSPIRATIONAL .......................................................................................................33 WITNESS ....................................................................................................................41 GIFTEDNESS..............................................................................................................49 ADDING VISUALS TO YOUR BLOGS ...................................................................65 BIOGRAPHY ..............................................................................................................65
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Milt Wear
INTRODUCTION
While the cover of my book may at first seem a little off point, the title of the work is Oh Yeah! This joyful exclamation is not necessarily confined to a response to cool music, but may well be extended to reward and acknowledge all forms of expression that may recognize the wonder of Gods creative gifts. The Psalms declare that we make joyful noise unto all of the earth, citing the many ways; trumpets may sound, voices lift, the sea may roar, and as here - guitars may strum. While noise itself may fade away, it leaves peace and encouragement in its wake then traveling onward to find the voice of others for their unique renditions. If we are favored with the gifts of writing, visual art, or music, the message may linger on in the hearts and halls of the beholder, resounding beyond its limitations. The power of the internet as that vehicle, that instrument is astounding; often commanding Oh Yeahs in the form of posts and comments from around the planet. I have been borne by the Spirit and not born in the sense that it was in any way my destiny to be an online blogger. If you would have asked me two years ago; what do you think of the idea? I would not have considered it. As it is with all creative endeavors, our efforts come from the Spirit within. He helps us choose the means and method to deliver Gods messages. It is He who carries, councils, and encourages all of us. For many years my (our) choice had been to deliver that communication through painting. In that process, I had explored many options; watercolor, acrylics, graphite, colored pencil, scratchboard, and pastel. Most of these works were explicitly spiritual in nature. They were shown and sold in galleries and elsewhere in public places such as governmental and galleries. My energies also had been directed at delivering those messages, and to enable others as well, through an Art Ministry that I called The Witness Group. They were twelve professional artists. This brought me into contact with additional artists, visual and other, in public venues, churches, and engaged me in personal presentations to groups of creatives young and old. After four years, at an obvious turning point of these ministries as they wound down, and as I sat at my drawing board reaching for new inspiration, the Spirit said within me; Lay down your brush and pick up the pen. I was startled and surprised. For some years previous I had, only incidentally, been involved with writing in school as an English major, and then very much later, as a bridge to my family. Essentially, I wrote to share what I believed important spiritually. Often this took the form of poetry which came easily, and was directed mainly toward the children of the family. The two following years after this new mandate of the Spirit, I spent much of my time in writing and still creating a number of etchings of nature subjects. Images were provided to me by a professional photographer friend. This culminated in my writing an E-book directed toward artists who were Christian, and who may have been having difficulty defining their creative direction. In that sense it was limited to that group. It
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was published and marketed on the internet as Seeding Art in Holy Ground . I must concede it was poorly done in the area of planning and editing. Thankfully, God is one of second chances, and a good deal of writing has gone over the dam since that time. You certainly may be the judge as to whether I need a third one; book that is. In the wake of this, I set aside further effort in writing until I came across the opportunity to start a Blog - feeling that I could reach a broader audience of readers; and, on a variety of subjects. I chose a free resource - the largest Christian blog on the internet; Christian Blogs. I wrote several times a week under the name, hiswitness. Then later, an additional one based in Singapore owned by a friend. It is called Christian Blessings and I write weekly under 4hispraise. Since then I have been totally committed, even obsessed, with the exposure and opportunities they provide. What I well may have lacked in my earlier book writing experience has been greatly enhanced by my choice to write nearly every day, and the important discovery that I apparently was more suited to the idea of short posts (less than 400 words) than expanded dialog. In the process I found that my skills were sharpened by the requirement to refine my technique, sift ideas, do research, and carefully edit my submissions. Some 250 posts later, 60,000 views, and many comments, I was convinced that these same blogs might be considered as fuel for another book. I have since discovered that Technorati, a credible search engine, numbers one million and a half blogs published internationally, as of December 2010. Among the many categories, there are 6420 in Religion, and 11083 in Arts. Word Press.com, the leader hosting service for bloggers of all descriptions, logs as of February, 2011; 392,366 bloggers, 453,434 new posts, and 394,923 comments. This is a long way of saying that the concept certainly has arrived. Opportunity is limitless. This book divides its attention to a variety of subjects that concern all of us, as we each are gifted by God in a great variety of ways. I pray that some of them would serve as guideposts for your walk as Christians; or others that are somewhere in the process of discovery. Further, I hope that you might consider blogging as one of the many choices that could well help build purpose and direction in your life. Beyond that, help enable you, as communicators, to make a difference in the lives of others. What this book does not deal with is the whole idea of how to, but more about the why of it. As it is in many undertakings, Google has it all. Sites like ehow and problogger provide tips on blogging successfully, and how to start one. In all it depends upon your motivation and how you define successfully. It is fundamentally about opinion and life experience. Either come aboard one of the many existing sites, Christian or otherwise, that are free or have modest fees - or put your own site together at a relatively low cost. I would define my success to be characterized by reaching those people that I can influence in making good use of their God-given gifts (that would be all of us). Beyond that, to convince them try to find ways to deliver that message to others and bring them to their own level of personal success.
Milt Wear
The book is arranged in categories of thought. One of which is expressed in the following post of a year ago that I think is particularly appropriate; LEAP AND THE NET WILL APPEAR Who among us has not felt real fear about our first efforts at doing something new? None of us were born with the skills or inclination to climb Mt. Everest, ride a unicycle or write a blog. Somehow skills were acquired through falling short of someones expectations, and often by generating a lot of bad stuff. God did not endow us with the ability or incentive to do just a few things. Admittedly, some things are more intimidating than others and are outside our often shallow comfort zone. We climbed, however, our first stairs at two, rode a three wheeler at three, and wrote some stammering message to the little girl or boy in fourth grade. In between then and now we have failed, fallen, embarrassed ourselves, and have created much that secured the less than favorable comment; Very interesting. Did we give up? Certainly; Too soon? Probably. At times - Thank God ! To the point; What about this writing of a blog? I am certainly a newcomer to this business, and junior to many of you who could write the book on communication what with your texting and social networking. I speak only to those who say, No way Magoo. As I go back over a number of my posts, I have tried to discover what it might take to get read. The figures are available to me. From my old advertising classes, I was aware of the power of a good, curiosity stimulating title, and the role of the first two sentences as a hook; And, the need for a clear indication as to the category of interest. Titles of some of my better- read posts were Ode to a Mustard Seed (biblical familiarity), On the making of Mud Pies, (curiosity), Snap Shots of the Past (recollection), Help is on the Way, (promise) and the top one so far; Diary of a Christian Artist, (reflection and revelation). All draw upon human emotions. I suppose it is, in part, vanity to know that we are read, but for those of us who are committed to witness; to support, and to engage in Christian dialog, and develop our own faith and that of others, it is a worthy effort. It has been a means of shaping my own understanding of how God fits into my life; better yet, how I fit into His. We may approach this idea of blogging timidly, or with reservations, as may be revealed by our early efforts; But, we must not judge ourselves by some standards that are not Gods that do not reflect His intent for us. He does not expect perfection. The extent to which we are effective depends upon our ability to live with doubt and do it anyway: And, with the love and support of those similarly involved in the registering of their comments. In that we are continually strengthened and motivated. Obviously, this is one of the tenants of all Christian effort.
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FAMILY
THE POT THAT NEVER BECAME We are the clay and thou art the potter, and we are the work of thy hand, Isaiah 64/8. Ever make a pot or vessel from clay? If you did, you were involved in the very slow process of adding and subtracting, smoothing and incising until you judged it good; or, even better, perfect and truly representative of the best that is in you. Then you fired it only to find that it had become broken because of some imperfection that you overlooked - some failure on your part, or perhaps no accounting for it. It is a fairly simple thing to say, you cant win them all, and move to another day when all is well, and try again when fortune may smile. Or we might retrace our steps, maybe do an autopsy on the failed project and try not to duplicate the error. Draw the comparison from Gods view as the master potter. He decides what kind of vessel He will make, what task it will perform, totally unique unto it. He has done all of the above over time and set us forth to become, hopefully be, what He has intended. We are that pot, unique and lovingly crafted to be complete, and enduring in His kingdom. Yet, as above, we are always subjected to the last test of fire in a world that could render us broken and useless: Due, not to the fact that we were not well made and quite indestructible - But, because we did not believe in His power and promise to make us new in that event. Compare the similarity to our role as parent-creator of our offspring; that tiny cellular structure that could or would become. We likewise have a plan; that it should be beautiful, functional, and durable. We have molded, added and subtracted to point we judge it to be the very best we can do. We open the door of life, and find, in the course of surrendering it to the fire of experiences, it cracked and has lost its ability to be what was intended and hoped for. It cannot be remade by our hands. We cannot ourselves be broken as well because we missed a step in the process, or failed to puncture that little destructive bubble under the surface. In many ways we arrive at the same place. Only God can reach into that brokenness and reconstruct, rebuild, and make new. We cannot. All of the Kings horses and all the Kings men could not. Humpty Dumpty knew that. However, the King can and will. While we despair, take blame, and agonize; the pot can blame the kiln. We can blame ourselves, but the child - perhaps even ourselves, remains dysfunctional none-theless; unless we understand that we must surrender the job to Him, we cannot be whole as a parent or child.
Milt Wear
So much of who we seem to be is defined by genetics these days. Our means of suggesting outcomes and behavior depends upon our parents. The same can be said for our physical state; whether we have seeds of disease or health. As we come to recognize this in our family, we level observations; You are just like your mother, father or You could be twins the way you two think alike. Or; Yes, she had it too. While it often questionable as to whether these things are inherited, or are the product of our environment, we thank God for them or deal with them. LIKE FATHER, LIKE SON This title reflects an idiom used when different generations of a family behave in the same way of have the same talents or defects. This says nothing to credit good genes as a necessary forerunner to our dispositions or abilities. It bears no spiritual reference to our relationship to God or His Son to Him, which has far more to do with our behavior and ultimate path that we take in life. In secular terms, we can benefit from human relationships in some way or we may be disadvantaged: We have no idea. We cannot be disadvantaged in our father- son-ship in God. Currently, as far as I can tell, there are fourteen books, songs, and plays titled by writers that expand upon that same title. In the best case we take the good from our fathers or mothers and build upon it. Where there is recognition of giftedness, Jim Taylor, PhD, makes some interesting suggestions in an article; Do you want a gifted or a hard-working child? He suggests that those children did not own their giftedness. They frequently have early success and little or no failure. Sooner or later they reach a point where they land up where every one is gifted (Says Harvard, the Olympics or Julliard); They may well end up in the brain shuffle if they do not have a work ethic. This brings me to ask, how in the world do you think they got there in the first place? He suggests, dont tell them they are gifted. Erase the word potential and substitute realize their ability. What would our Father God say about that? I suspect we all know. He has expressly said, Neglect not your gift Not if you have one, dont neglect it. He would not find the word, potential risky, for He gave us that in specific quantities, each to His, Gods, own measure. We love our own earthly fathers because of good lessons taught. We will never extract real power from him or his genes. That is delivered only by God within us who says You will receive the power when the Holy Spirit comes upon you. My father was never afraid to call me gifted. He didnt tell me that one should work hard. He just did! He learned it from his father and his. and his. I learned it from them. Our children learned it from us: A pretty simple, non-genetic formula.
WHAT TO BE WHEN I GROW UP
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You would think that, as I go into my eighth decade of living on this earth, I would have figured things out. Yet, I feel a little like the character in Thurbers story; Walter Mitty. He tried to wear so many hats, that he became an ineffectual dreamer; a laughing stock. The problem is that it was not at all funny, for he ended up dying either by extreme misfortune or by his own hand. That is pretty dreary. I have no plan for that, except the dying part. Most of us rise from dreams and expectations that others have for us when we were younger. We graduate to some satisfaction of our own desires that are so often tempered by economic reasons. We toy with vocations; with concentrated study, sprinkled with happy accidents or hobbies that do not really change our course. Each experiment has its own lessons, be they self-serving roads to nowhere- or worthy in everyones eyes. My list is long my path wide. My hobbies tended to be creative; music and art. My hands were restorative; fix up, remodel from old cars to real estate. My work-a-day passions were to help people grow- fueled by being a scout leader to many years as a corporate trainer and trouble shooter for troubled franchises. My retirement years were not so much Walter Mitty-like, but more Don Quixote, who chased windmills. I chased the idea of bringing the arts into and developing artists within the church. I have no idea how the Don finished up, but I suspect that he did not secure the attention of the windmill nor did I really engage the church in a meaningful way; much to the sacrifice of Gods mandate to help find and recognize all gifts in His children. There is still time and place. Writing may be it. Much of what I have done may have little to do with eternity. We must all come to grips with our actions and motives; are they seeds of purpose that have continued to sprout along the way as evidence of Gods plans and intentions or are they just weeds of no consequence that we can just walk over and forget about? We could sail into the minefields of predetermination and predestination; to assume that all of our ways are set surely as our DNA. Or, we can count ourselves as one who has choice and responsibility. I prefer the latter. It is what we do with these gifts and whether we recognize and water them in ourselves and for others, all of which matters to the Giver. What will I do when I grow up? I have taken so many shots at it, its a wonder purpose is still standing. Yet it is. At this point in life? I would surely be a farmer with some previous experience, just tilling the ground; then looking for a promising sprout or two, trying to keep others from stepping on them. We will know our success at harvest time, wont we?
SINS OF OUR FATHERS
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This is a sequel to my blog Like Father, Like Son, where I talked about heritage. I Kings; 14/22 says, Judah did evil in the sight of the Lord, and they provoked him to jealousy with their sins which they had committed, above all their fathers had done. Psalm 78/8 says nothing about our own sins, but again those of our fathers, as in, Do not hold against us the sins of our fathers; may your mercy come quickly to meet us, for we are in desperate need. We know how our own sins convict us, but we are said to be recipient or victim of what our fathers do or not do. Frankly, I know nothing of this transference. But I do know that the Lord blesses us through our fathers good works. There is no more prime example of this than of Elijah and his son Elisha. Elijah was a John the Baptist sort, primitive and unpretentious in his firs and leathers and gruff intensity. He brought fire and wind to make Gods points. His son Elisha, certainly as a witness to these terrible manifestations of his fathers divine power and his fathers status as a prophet, asked for a double portion of his inheritance. He went on to do twice the miracles done by his father. All were acts of mercy as opposed to his fathers acts of retribution. Since we are all sinners, father or son, it would seem to me that we would concentrate upon those redeeming qualities of our fathers past; even study and dwell upon them that we may pass them on. God has dealt with the rest and will release us in our own confessions. Most every time I think on this, I hear the prideful strains of Fiddler on the Roof; not the if I were a rich man- but the shouts of Tradition! I am one of seven generations (over three hundred years) of Milton as a middle name. In my research of the family I try not to look to close, so as to find a culprit or two, but hopefully yet another in the line of spiritual sons that I believe is the case. My first and only grandson, Kienan, said proudly, only recently, at the age of nineteen; My first boy will be another Milton- like his dad, and his, and his. This is no small matter. Tradition! And, may he be worthy in his calling. As promised I will not burden you with large quantities of poetry at one time, but dole them out a few at a time. It is not as if they are all that cerebral, but there are a few that even I havent figured out ; perhaps you can help me with them.
REST IN HIM What wandering soul could ever rest In wanton sins he feels are best ? To breathe Gods air so heaven sent With restless dreams be thus content
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Its not in sleep we find at last Those treasured coins our heart has cast But in our faith where peace resides Within the will of Him, our Spirit Guide In showing want for God alone We craft sweet dreams of His condone His lasting promise of tomorrow lives In each morns blessing He always gives
PACKINGUP Quite some time ago I wrote a post; Help is On the Way. It was about my now six year involvement with Oregon Health and Science University and their world class, generously (for them) funded Brain Study. The effort has been to bring into focus some of the ideas of what normal ageing, and, beyond that, an understanding of such impediments as Alzheimers, Dementia and related disease. There are two hundred of us involved with different aspects. I am in nearly all or their studies. Among their many objectives is to develop modalities for strengthening brain function through exercise, community involvement, and game playing; finally, through Skype (camera for internet interview), motion detectors, and weekly reports to determine the status and well being of the subject. And, ultimately to develop strategies for helping the elderly to age-in-place as an alternative to conventional care facilities. Just this week, we began a series of progressive making up of stories to challenge our imaginative skills. These stories were wild and creative, funny and revealing (particularly for the technician). Intel visited my home to make of film of my responses to their new monitoring equipment that they installed in an area of my home. That film was to be presented at a forthcoming Electronics show in San Diego. I had previously stated that my energies were devoted to help address the absolute emotional and financial tsunami to be born by the boomers - our children and theirs, in the coming years - Healthcare, notwithstanding. I dont view this necessarily as a Christian undertaking. In the program and testing there is little made of Gods role in our care. It is about science and problem solving. I cannot leave Him out of the picture for it was He who gave me the opportunity to participate and be a legitimate contributor. I since have been in Legislative meetings for questioning about the program. The Christian part, it seems to me; after all the talk about directives, wills, cremation, brain donation, and other arrangements, that each of us can, with comfort, surrender to the idea that soon it may be over. It is a simple as moving from one State to another and having made plans for it, and by praying that we have left something behind, and little undone.
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As we go about our daily lives we are reminded of lessons that appear out of nowhere; where our focus has been distorted by our desire for recognition or growth. Many times there is a sacrifice to be made in the process. In this story, as you may guess, the old man in the following story is me.
ON RAISING TOMATOES
There once was an old man who planted a vegetable garden. The beds were carefully prepared and fertilized. Among the many plants were five tomato plants. Over many months a single one grew to amazing height and size, towering above all others. The man, so impressed with his fortune, dreamed of the future of his Jack and the Beanstalk plant that he began thinking; Guinness Book! And he pictured himself picking the fruit from a tall ladder - Maybe a feature story, a television spot? Surely he was most fortunate, perhaps even clever. Curiously however, as he began to favor this plant by extra care and fertilizing, he found it had many, many blossoms but no fruit. The other smaller plants flourished and delivered red tomatoes in abundance. The only difference, he observed, was that the giant one was shaded by the other ones, and there was little or no sun upon its roots. Soon, came the September rains, heavy and in long duration. One morning the man, on his daily vigil found the giant plant had fallen to the ground against the fence. His grand plans for it and his potential celebrity had been shattered overnight. It was wilted, dead in the water that should have nourished it. So it is with all living things as they grow to be impressive and with great promise all of the feeding and intense (though misguided care) cannot make it what it was intended to be, without sun upon its roots. The biblical Paul, the Master Gardener, often had strong words for the Church: that they must be aware of all things that make them fruitful. Size was not necessarily one of them. Postscript: Since this writing, I went back and propped up the plant and trimmed it aggressively to less than half its size, and secured it to its cage. In time, while it produced far less than hoped, there were some useful (though a bit distorted) fruits that appeared. They were ugly-delicious. I leave you to decide upon the parabolic message contained here. Could it be that even the fallen, overblown and pampered, can rise again to fill Gods intention? Could it be that we should never give up in apparent disasters? It is tomatoes (food) for thought.
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TEACHING OLD DOGS How old do you have to be when you are no longer teachable? I suspect there is some level of Been there, done that in all of us. Perhaps we fall back on the old adage; You cant teach an old dog new tricks; or worse You can lead a horse to water, but you cant make him drink. I have an old dog and she is teaching me tricks all the time: Never had a horse. Last week I signed up for a series of classes in portraiture. The teacher, Kumi, as it developed, is highly recognized and qualified. She warned; I will treat everyone as a beginner. Only if you can do the basics well, can you progress at your own speed. I was not prepared for; this is how you draw and eye, nose, ear, lips and so forth. I was expecting to dig right in and draw a whole person doing something complicated and dramatic. Yet I grudgingly did the exercises; thinking -Gimmie a break! What I found is; that it is good to go back to the basics, even me - as the poster child for the lets get on with it syndrome. Chances are, we all are like that at times assuming that we have it, when we need to check our basic understanding before we move to bigger things. So it is with our spiritual life. We think we can paint a portrait of Gods infinite love, grace, and mercy, but we may not be able to sketch it when the light hits it a certain way that we had not expected; or what grace looks like as it may vary from microbes to the majesty of the universe; or what mercy looks like until we have drawn a fallen bird to safety, or pictured a fountain bursting forth into the mouths of a thirsty village. When we have mastered this and so much more, we can comprehend what it takes to bring the whole body together in a gallery devoted to showing Gods intention for us: His step by step creation of all that we behold in reverence and wonder. He made mountains, lakes, and sunflowers, with a snap of His fingers let it be! He made us from clay; eyes nose, ears, and lips. He had an image in mind. ..Himself !
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VALUES
TO DIE BEFORE WE WAKE This mornings Seed; More often than not, the Spirit wakes me with a thought, saying in effect. See what you can do with this one. Its not as if I dont have original thoughts, its just that I know when it comes from Him. How many of you seasoned readers recall the prayer or your early years, taught to you by your parents? Now I lay me down to sleep. I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take. Die? Im only five years old! Im thinking at age ten and looking back.; Moms pretty morbid! This morning Im thinking. Not so much. There are at least twenty five other versions of that prayer that removes the reference to death. One such poem, in part, is Now I lay me down to sleep. I pray the Lord my soul to keep. May angels watch me through the night; and, wake me with the morning light. While at five or twenty-five, it may seem odd to suggest the eminent reality of death; one might agree, to die in ones sleep is not a bad option. We observe; What a blessing, he died in his sleep! At the end it remains; will God take our soul? I abandoned my childhood version of this prayer to focus on things of the time and circumstance. The Spirit would now turn my attention to considering it again. Not because I am old, and the odds ore good that it may be appropriate; but because it has nothing to do with age. The concern belongs to any of us who wait too long to surrender and find a home for our souls. Thank you mom. Should I die - Thank you, God.
In the process of growing as a family, there are landmarks that tell us that we have been there, and document events that have shaped us. People do that through collections of things that tell something of our parents, and theirs. They lay on shelves and in cupboards and boxes in the thought that someone will want them; perhaps pass them on. However misguided that may be, once and a while a granddaughter in a weak moment might say; Grandpa, write a story of Grandmas and your lives or, May I have that whatever-trinket now or later. Here are a few references to that;
KEEPER OF THE FLAME How does that look? my wife Audrey said, as she finished hanging a group of seven newly framed pictures on the family room wall.
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They seem to be going uphill I said. Perfect! She concluded, All families should be going up. There were thirty one faces - boys and girls, men and women, taken in black and white and in color: Even Sepia (earth tone) which was a style of the twenties. All seven generations represented will reside there for perhaps another ten years, then upward and onward as she said. While Audrey has been way more than a keeper in our marriage of soon to be sixty years, she has kept and documented the days of our family life in twenty-eight albums; hundreds of snapshots done the hard way. Those she will dispense, in their relevant content, to the youngsters when they are ready. Where does this penchant for posterity come from? So many books and movies- even Christian ministries have been dedicated to keeping the flame. We remember in the early days when keepers brought oil to the lighthouses it is much the same in substance. We do not have to look far to the source of the real inspiration which begins with honor thy fathers and mothers and, thou shall teach them diligently to thy children There is much evidence of this same disposition in our family girls: The boys? Well they just will be boys even as men. As to the faiths of all those pictured, I cannot entirely say; but most of their works and reverent character spoke for their spirituality. Im sure that they might be known to sing the ancient hymn, as we surely have; Faith of our fathers, living still living still which ends; through the truth that comes from God, we all shall truly be free. In all - what a flame burning so brightly! - Showing us the way into the future by tenderly remembering the past.
AMONG BURNED SACRIFICES Often we hear testimonies of dramatic revelations concerning Gods will for us. He steps into our lives as some great force from without. We may be transformed and suddenly see the light. Yet, in truth, we are borne to know Him by a great variety of ways, suited best to our own makeup and skills. All of us learn step by step. We do not wake up with a sudden understanding of algebra, poetry, gourmet cooking, or how to deliver a curve ball. We do not wake up with full comprehension of what faith is all about. It may come about by repeated flickers of light, or successes and failures that cancel out, or build upon one another. At one point we may cease to be the total object of grace, and become the seeker assembler. We know light when we see it because we have helped build it into something useful and permanent that we can use; what God can use. My poem speaks to that process;
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THE CANDLE We have a lighted candle; parts found by the wayside Gathered bit by bit, and fashioned in a jar One small piece of string With colored wax surround Simply plucked up from the ground We now bring to life three useless things Now each day we start the flame That burns brightly in Jesus name From such as these thrown away With nothing of itself to say Our faith begins to thrive and grow So little of its old self to show And as this assemblage grew It forms a light we never knew Each night its placed away from view To rest is warming light found true To purchase tomorrows strength anew
THINKING OUT OF THE BOX David Wolpe, in his book; Teaching your Children about God, says. Children do not study shoe boxes to manufacture better boxes. They study them because they are. It is a rare but wonderful devotion. It is important and necessary to study things for some purpose. It is holy to study them for no purpose. Each moment is precious not because of what it can be used for, but simply because it is. Creation is only one use of time. Another is appreciation. Pictured with this post is an old worn cardboard box that was used to transport cantaloupes. It is over 30 years old. It has resided in one or the other of our closets for all of this time. It has contained toys for our grandchildren. Battered and distressed- ( the toys, not the children) as they are, they are part of our collected history, as is the revered box itself. The latest of these children is our year- old great grandson, Elijah. Soon after being introduced to the box and contents, he was taken to the idea of getting into it and emptying its contents toy by toy; tiny figures, old wood blocks, books, trucks, and legos; all with an obvious display of satisfaction in the broad smile upon his face. The process took many minutes because he had to study each item and decide as to whether he would throw it or set it down gently. This rather speaks to the whole idea of studying things carefully before casting it aside, because each item is unto itself. Christ spoke of the wisdom of little children; even that we should come to Him as one.
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When any of us doubt the value of tradition, or wisdom; we should observe little Eli and fully realize that before one can even begin thinking out of the box we must first get into it; Wisdom, out of the mouths of babes.
WINDOWS
As I look out at the road ahead And rest upon my lifes bed I think the path that brought me here A thousand steps, each one so dear Leading long and bearing straight Filled with gifts to fill my plate While others hold some regret My life; a joy that He has set A God who ever blesses me With love, in all that my eye can see As earthly windows start to close He brings me riches; only heaven knows
AS EAGLES FLY This post has an etching that I did of an eagle. I have done several of them in the past. This must be a symbol of my desire to rise above stuff that limits me in my walk. You might share this desire as well. Eagles have long been cultural symbols among many nations. Some twenty five counties have the image on their Coat of Arms. Churches have used this as a depiction of John the evangelist. These birds represent power, strength, gracefulness, and majesty - Yet, often bearing an intense sense of privacy. Songs have been written. Scripture quoted. In this respect we may remember our own be like desires or impressions formed in visits to the zoo with our children; the silliness of the monkeys, the tiger in his fierce stalking, the Elephant in his bulky dominance. But measure the eagle sitting there; singular, on his high perch of contemplation then see him soaring the heavens. The songs offer; I would fly Higher than an Eagle; You are the wind beneath my wings Michael Jonas, a priest, carries it further; Under His Wings (meaning God) shall you find trust and refuge. Isaiah 40 /31 They shall lift their wings and mount up as Eagles and further; Bear you the breath of dawn; Make you shine like the sun, and hold you in the palm of His hand Pretty lofty thoughts.
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Some of you may have read my previous Blog; Sleep, Perchance to Dream, and know that I am a frequent flyer by night- not so regal as an eagle, but bent upon swooping from the tree tops into the valleys in my dreams. If this dreamy metaphor would ever happen in my real life, it would not be by my own power, but by the breath of our living God beneath my wings. Oh breathe on me breath of God Fill me with life anew, that I may love the things You love, And, do what You would do.. following, So that I would never die, But live with You, the perfect life for all eternity. Now that, my dears, is real altitude.
THE MOVING FINGER The moving finger writes; and having writ moves on; nor all your piety, nor wit, shall lure it back to cancel a line. Nor all your tears wash out a word of it. Omar Khayam This quote, over time, has attained biblical proportions in its recognition. Amazingly, however, it does not reflect a shred of biblical truth. It is one that I have remembered from my college days when I believed that so many things could be final, unchangeable, immutable. Strangely coupled with this is another famous quote that comes even as I write this from Of Mice and Men - For all the sad words of tongue or pen, the saddest are these; it might have been Whittier. Both of these voices attempt to convince us that; he who hesitates is lost, or you only get one shot at it; or that somehow there is a finite window of opportunity and in this lost situation there is great despair. If there is one tenant of the Bible that should be etched in our heart, it is that our God is one of second chances. How many of us grew up with an etch-a-sketch toy; A little box full of something like sand that, with a twist of a knob, we could erase a picture that we had drawn to get a clear screen? Whatever the moving mechanical finger had writ could be totally cancelled no might have been. The image disappeared even beyond memory. We can, in the same way, recreate a whole new image for our lives. Great testimony to this can be found in the Bibles use of the preface; Re reconciliation, redemption, revival, rebirth, resurrection. Then the common use; readjust, reappraise, rearrange, reassure, reclaim, and on and on. We may end this with a final re; an admission of what is required of us as we establish new life; that would be regret in the form of acknowledgement of our past sins; that the slate could be made clean. Many would believe, I among them, that God is one of more than second chances again and again His grace can fall upon us, the fallen, the forever- forgiven. That can be permanently etched on our hearts. There is no erasing it.
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I HAVE A HOPE This would be a fine Christian song that Tommy Walker wrote on the subject. I am still working on how to get it from You-Tube to here; another time when my wizard daughter can drag me through the process now Dad, YOU do it. HOPE Having Our Peace Endure James 5:11 Behold, we count them happy which endure. Psalm 71:14 But I will Hope continually, and I will praise thee more and more. We speak of Hope as casually as I hope it doesnt rain. Or that it does. We speak of greater Hope for our children and their lives. We speak of the greatest Hope for our own future in the Lord. Eph 1:18 provides the vital key to that door; The eyes of our own understanding be enlightened, that ye may know what is the hope of His calling. Does that not make Gods intention clear? That it is the understanding of our calling that brings Hope to the whole equation? Can we merely wait for Hope to be poured out upon us because of our pure endurance? Endurance often has that unfortunate connotation that if we just somehow suck it up we will make it through. God would certainly have made us more than long-suffering recipients of His grace. In Zec 9:12 we have a glimpse of the process; Return to the stronghold of security and prosperity, you prisoners of hope; even today do I declare that I will restore double your former prosperity to you. Maybe the Word is just saying that we can be imprisoned by the inactive, passive, bearing state of Hope. It is our understanding that our Hope and our Calling are synonymous, and an active continuum, as the Psalmist declares. We can lose it (Hope) and pick it up again repeatedly, or it can endure as ongoing peace and security in our lives. It is assured in Gen 15/15 ;And thou shalt go to thy Fathers in peace; thou shalt be buried in a good old age. If age can be good, that would be my desire. That it would be Hope-filled, would be His.
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FINDING WAYS
THE BROCCOLI CAPER When we look upon our lives, most surely we recall the times when our cup was overflowing. But, in all of that, we surely savor some of the struggles and near misses. It is in times of need that were somehow met by Gods grace that we may take heart in the fact that He may test us now and then to see if we are getting it. This is much the same as any parent would check on our progress; how we are coping with lifes challenges. And to find if we understand what is truly good and important. As one, like yourself, who may have experienced a series of really bad jobs as a student looking for money and finding it in hard places; factory work, swing shifts, and hernia promoting physical challenges; I had decided I would almost pay someone to give each of my four children tough assignments. Each of them found it in paper routes, busing tables, elevator operating, to factory work. Among these was the mentioned Broccoli Experience. Our daughter Vicki, our ever industrious and responsible daughter now fifty six, returned at twenty- something from the University and found absolutely no work. This was to pay for her part of the expenses. She found an advertisement for Summer Work at a nearby Green Giant plant. She landed it; rather it landed on her. The first day she came home vowing never to go back. Not only the only word she could interpret was hola, but hers was the job of broccoli inspector; that translated into picking up the worms and debris out there on the conveyor. She refused to go back, period; end of story. It was not for my wife and I. We drove her back, crying and emotional, the next day. She finished the summer, soon to be contributing- not extracting, almonds to green beans; then to be running a portion of the shift at more money. She had learned more Spanish, and respect for those who had less opportunity. Since that time, in moment of weakness, she would admit the experience having a good deal to do with her current and substantial success in the business word. She is still not fond of broccoli, however. How true can it be for us at times, in our often elevated sense of importance and aspirations that we find ourselves where we really dont want to be. God may well put us right in the middle of a broccoli factory picking out worms from the good stuff. As Shakespeare would lament; Suffering the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune. Why would He do this to (better yet for) his beloved? Much as any father; to give us an opportunity to gain perspective and appreciation; not just imagine it; to prepare us for the battles and bring empathy into our lives. Perhaps some day Vicki will demand broccoli. God will surely add a few almonds. He does that.
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REASON IN RESTORATION If one is going to restore old things we must have a reverence for timelessness and likely a pocket full of money - perhaps suspect priorities. What exactly is worth years of work and sweat, banged knuckles, and not a little frustration? Some would say that my project, a 1936 Chevrolet coupe, might be one. This is one of several cars that I have brought back to the living over a period of the last 20 years; before a more compelling interest in art and writing kicked in after I retired. The former is a hobby, the latter, a form of ministry. In each one it takes time, money, patience, and perseverance; traits that the Lord would find commendable, depending upon who it served. He watched me for years, scraping and sanding, painting and processing, scouting and securing pieces and parts to restore something I never intended to drive, but basically to show off. Essentially, it was an indulgence and beyond that of a hobby. It kept me off the streets in my retirement - that is the problem. I should have been on the streets doing the Lords work with that same energy; directing my resources to something more worthy of my fundamental commission to serve Him. The question was posed often; not unlike our golf or tennis swing; How long did it take you? I would proudly reply, Years! In my subsequent painting years, the answer to the same question changed to; As long as necessary - which did little for those who admired a dedication vicariously. There is a difference between those answers. One might say more accurately; Im not keeping track since I have been using my gifts that have no expiration date, no limitations, or timetable. Please understand me; I believe that God desires us to be refreshed by hobbies and small indulgences that we may be re-energized and strengthened. All work and no play not only makes jack a dull boy, but also very tired. I only say that if these thing conflict with our true commission in life, we should reconsider our priorities. My life has changed as I began to do that. I would hope that this may be the reason God has given me a long life, a pencil and brush, and the voice of the Holy Spirit, that I may truly begin to fill His intention for me. Perhaps this is my way of taking it to the streets. Say, tennis anyone? We would reply, Maybe after I finish work.
OUR PLANNED SURPRISES Those of us who have traveled a good deal, and particularly for pleasure, may have mixed emotions about the whole process; passports, lines, and frustrated expectations. While my wife and I have had our share, we tried hard to minimize them. I have always been committed to serious planning; often with a plan B or two: Perhaps to an absurd extent (some would say). Many times the planning was, for me, as much fun as parts of the trip,
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It is not that I hate surprises, but I dislike circumstances that frustrate opportunity for their enjoyment when they do come. Many of our trips have been very basic do- it ourselves rather than tours. We have few reservations except for arrival and return, and the wonderful freedom of the Euro rail pass; to get off and on at will. Every planned destination had, if possible, three options for budget (penchion) lodgings; located in the center of things, and within walking distance of the landmarks. We backpacked, so our worry about luggage, and what to leave or wear was settled with the simple requirement that our pack weigh no more than 30 lbs. All of this is to say that if we were to enjoy the destinations, things had to be fairly predictable, and our load light. Draw, if you will, the comparisons with our spiritual journey. It may be very like that. The effort we put into the planning for our trip to eternity is obviously more important. Our map is The Word, carefully studied; which not only prescribes our route, but gives us mileposts along the way. Notwithstanding this, we are at liberty to stop anywhere and feed our own needs and interests. Salvation is not a group tour. If we are frugal we will make it without borrowing. If we pack light, we are not encumbered by things we cannot lift, or have to depend upon others to carry; it is so much easier to climb the long hills. The surprises are revelations and grace. I have come to the point where my travels may be ending sometime soon. The journey now is to meet Jesus who prescribes the way and the accommodation. Would I have done anything differently? Certainly. I would have spent more time studying the Map (word). I would have packed lighter. I would have absolutely no reservations. I would have taken more souls with me. What is your plan and destination? Whos your guide? How much space will you need?
THE GRACE-FULL LADDER Our first newly-wed apartment was near the downtown Law School campus (my place of study) and the Sate Capital (Audreys place of work). It was most convenient because we had no car (sold it for the ring). The rent was $45.00 per month, the bed came out the wall and fully occupied the living room. The kitchen could almost accommodate both of us. Ournook?- seating four for dinner. We had an indoor potty, and a lovely old grandma type for a landlady. I do need to mention that this would be sixty years ago. Thence, we came to a wonderful progression from that, to a rental house, to our house, to our houses. Our first house; $10,250 brand new (my raise to qualify me for the loan was $340.00 a month), our first car, $50.00 (blown head gasket); our first new Station Wagon $3100 - gas 30 cents a gallon. Then came a second $200 beater car to carry about our first, then second, then third, then our fourth child.
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This would be a familiar story told by many an old grandpa who loved his fantasy stories about how he walked 5 miles to school in the snow with no shoes, and only a small apple for lunch. We can say that things are relative and be right in many ways; $45.00 then might now be $450.00. They are not so different in others. The un-relative part is that I absolutely loved (still do) the progression of it all. It was a step at a time, cash only no credit card. It was if there was some, hardly predictable ladder, where it was one step at a time. I wonder if some today, say from birth to boomer, may not be a bit disadvantaged; deprived from the absolute joy of climbing that ladder leaning against modern day values; the rapture of free-andclearness. Can they show the process of planting ones foot solidly upon each rung before going to the next? I do not mean to disparage all life styles of today; only those which would drop in by helicopter with card in hand. What might others learn from that? How many rungs are there? I have no idea. Im looking down at the moment, surprised at how many are below me. With Gods grace and two good legs that still work, I will find out. In the meantime, it is of great satisfaction to find that our kids have borrowed my ladder from time to time in their journey upward; and agree first things first pretty darn often.
WHAT IS LIFE LIKE? For Forrest Gump;.. It is like a box of chocolates: you never know what you are going to get. A sweet thought, and there is an accounting for his simple but passive outlook. Life is full of surprises, good and bad. If it means surrender to coincidence, and have life do us, instead of our doing lifethen we are just a victim, a passenger. God rewards us with gifts, and sometimes a punishment for our decisions, as do all fathers. We know it as answer to our prayers or the result of our obedience or our indiscretion. If we are to surrender to any providence, divine or otherwise, lets listen to a few optimisms: Beyond the dim unknown, standeth God, within the shadow; keeping watch over His own. James Lowell. Minnie Haskins in God Knows And, I said to the man who stood at the gate of the year; give me a light that I may tread safely into the unknown. And he replied; go out into the darkness and put your hand into the hand of God. That shall be to a better light and safer than the unknown way, I will not respond in any other way than to move forward respecting the past, not knowing the future- but for the light that will always be provided. May you always venture forth and share its revelation and brilliance in the coming years.
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OUR ELECTRONIC VOICE In these days we place so many things in the context of our technology. I am almost afraid to ask Whats new? and realize how far behind the times I am. People are talking E-book and I never even owned an A- book! Our thoughts and relationships are placed on the billboards of Twitter, Facebook, and Me- Phones. I am embarrassed often by the inquiry Whats up? and I have to make up something bizarre to stay in the game. This all speaks to our innate desire to be heard or listen to, and to secure responses to our deepest disclosures (but too often found shallow). We may bring God into the process as we seek inspiration to write or respond to a blog. We declare that it is His will that we share. We go when He says go and stop when He says stop. I can recall more than once when my e-mail or post was somehow erased or curiously undelivered. As I look on these occurrences, I credit my good fortune (and His good grace) that it happened because of some insensitivity on my part, or the feeling that I should have said. On the other side of the coin, we have firewalls and spyware that stop incoming communication in its tracks; that would label worthy but foreign messages as junk perhaps to the extent of throwing the baby out with the bath water. At times our dear friends who forward or bring gifts to us enter the door and unknowingly track mud on the floor with their feet in the form of viruses. Our walk into others lives, on a personal level, may be similar. We come to the door with the great intention of bringing the gifts of experience, information, or wisdom, yet our own actions decry the whole effort, as we fail to spend the time to refine the message for what it says about us. What it says about Him. The ultimate ware for sifting the good from the bad, truth from lie, carelessness from care, is Gods Word. We must run a scan of our communications daily preemptively and not after the fact. We are blessed with media to share His views. Whichever vehicle we choose, it should be used to serve His purpose first, our social needs second. I propose a marriage between the two: that we even expand upon these opportunities; just run the scan first for consideration and content. God will see that it is forwarded.
WHERE IS HOME I dont know about you, but some of my best work is done in the morning. While all of our problems and desires rush at us like hungry wolves demanding to be fed, we know that one voice can rise above all. While used to the competition, the Holy Spirit knows our basic desires for place and positioning. He will respond every morning to our call. Suddenly, then displaced in our fussing over our often shallow concerns, we make way for God who would give us peace and purpose for the day. When He said be perfect, He is prepared to show us a way. The world that God made limits all levels
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of perfection, but allows joy and pleasures in its things. The constant pursuit of these blessings slows us down and causes detours in our lives, and reassigns our priorities. We gather these rewards, rituals, and relationships as reparations for our toil and troubles. These may well become our God. As Christians, we are called upon to treat them for what they are; transient, and can be displaced by the true and the timeless; the reality of God within our very natures. C.S. Lewis in his Readings captures it; Our father refreshes us on the journey with some pleasant Inns, but will not encourage us to mistake them for home. Any morning that I awake with that understanding is not only my best work - But, the unquestioned beginning of a good day.
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CHRISTIAN HUMOR
Is this a human trait or is it an oxymoron when it is applied to the Spiritual. There are many an inquiry into the nature of God, and that of Jesus. There is a suggestion that being Christian is serious business. If it is true that God made us in his image, He in fact did invent the funny -bone. All of us have one, however buried under the tissue of human tribulation. I will not try to stretch the scripture to provide Holy evidence of His sense of humor. I would only point to HIS motivation for making a Duck Billed Platypus, a Blue Footed Booby, a Giraffe, an Aardvark or a Hippo. You finish it. Would Jesus have smiled when He suggested it would be easier for a Camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the Kingdom of heaven. Did the rich man smile? The poor man did for sure. Dr.Charles Swindoll says in his book, Laugh Again, I know of no greater need today than the need for joy - Outrageous joy. There is bad news, long faces, and heavy hearts everywhere even in houses of worship (especially in houses of worship). I have included this HUMOR section as an attempt to bring a smile; perhaps even to make a point; Gods point! AN INCISION DECISION Dr. Pensive stood over the patient, as he had done so many times under the hot lights of the operating room. Sweat dripped from his head onto the covering drape. Nurse Hardway mopped his face muttering Just do it already! The first stroke of the number three scalpel blade (huge) sliced him open like a watermelon. The retractor was placed in the hand of Dr. Dubious. It was a number 10 (really huge). It was inserted to open him up, belly button to chin. Doctor D!, screamed his assistant, Rufus; What is it? Surely its not.. The room fell silent; even the respirator that had been chugging away. What tha? came the cry from Hardway. Then from Dubious; as he barked, Yes, Yes! Theres a poet in there, it happens every time; God help us, none of us are safe. Close him up before it spreads further1 Yes, somewhere deep down inside all of us lives a poet. Maybe not the rhyming, iambic pentameter kind, who writes in musical tones; but one who writes from human experience; Truth he knows well. This poet may not have all the words in the dictionary, but he sets out fearlessly sifting the ridiculous to the sublime for a way to engage the Spirit in him; who is some writer, as we know. The Spirit does not always write about religion or intense drama, but of simple things that need to be told about life. He may write dark things of rebuke, but He remains always the encourager. He is the teacher. He will keep pace with us as we grow. He
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sees only that single fear, that cloak of timidity that says; I cant! He replaces it with courage. All is changed by being free in Him as a relentless and worthy spokesman. So, should you be called to the table with Hardway looking over you, take the easy way and just say Thanks, but no. I already know whats in there; A Poet - And, dont forget to count yourself.
WHAT MAKES PENS BLUE ? The light came on, and the blue pen resting there on the table squinted at the clock on the nightstand. Hes doing it again it exclaimed. Its 3:00 AM and he wakes me again for one of his deeevine inspirations. Seeing the pens frustration, I explained; some thoughts are profound, some are simple. One never knows; one might be as basic as my boyhood antics, or as challenging as where do we go when we die. I know where I will go when I die said the pen; in the wastebasket! Theres an antic for ya. I continued, There was a time when the words came free and easy. I could remember them until morning and you could spell them! And just when were you free and easy? When did you ever start anything without; There once was. The pen countered, pulling itself upright to its full height, girth, and blue-ness; brushing a bit of pocket lint from its shiny clip. I have always been true blue for you, I thought you knew it said, smiling at his first rhyme of the day. I gave it the thumbs up. Pens desperately need that. O.K, I said, Lets get to it; There was three wise men, mounted on kamels, it wrote. I threw the pen down and exclaimed in my most frustrated tone: There WERE three wise men, and Camel is spelled with a C not K. There you go again it cried; shooting the messenger the minute I start to warm up! It IS the message that counts, right? By now I had to agree with my sleepy old friend who was obviously beginning to lose its ink skipping words now and then. My last thoughts before dozing off were; We had ritten sew much together, large and smell, but always from the nib. I turned out the light and was snoring instantly. Im thinkin that Blue is surely going to need sleep for in the morning for when we start over. But agin, who nose if we will be still talking; I may have Blue it.
AND THE LORD SAID I WILL MAKE A CREATURE. I will call it dog, and it shall have dominion over man. Yours shall be called BriAm, and she will follow the ancient Chinese tribe of
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miniature Palace dogs. She will be a creature of a thousand laps, and she will be known by her lying on. A warning followed; that if her legs should touch the ground in other than natural pursuits of eating and elimination, verily her feet will turn to stone, and your name will be mud. That was the warning label that we peeled off as we vowed to treat her humanely, and preferentially. She would know her place. It happened, however, that her place would be our place. As time went on we would be trained to take her for walks on the end of her leash; to feed her demand for tasty, well presented foods, multiple sleeping quarters, depending always upon where the sun happened to be. Now, sadly, she is going on twelve years old, and is suffering from seizures, and smells a bit when we fail to take her to the beauty parlor. She still logs her lap time with any stranger who may be nasally impaired. She has the strength to bark briefly at the mailman, and turn her back on little people who pinch. I never doubted that God knew exactly what He was doing when He fashioned us; yet when I view BriAms traits of love, obedience, and simple nature and needs, I wonder that He might have spent a little more time on us; to be more like her except for the licking part. My wife says emphatically; when she is gone, thats it! To which I reply, stroking her softly, looking deeply into those big eyes; her tongue delivering a kiss upon my hand (the dog, not my wife), Yeh. Right, talk to her Maker, its out of my hands, and into His lap.
GET A GRIP
For those of us that keep tabs on our bog readership, and I confess that I do, there comes an occasional blip that suddenly convinces us that we have literary genius. I can only say beware that we do not break our arm patting ourselves on the back. I am looking at one of mine; The sea is so great and my boat is so small - (which incidentally breaks my rule of only short titles). It has had some 2000 hits in eight months. Thats way good for me. I have long thought that if one has a fairly short post, a catchy title, and a good first sentence or two, you can get away with a ton. It seems true in this case. Google picked up on this one and carried it much further than it deserved. With the same yardstick I have tried to duplicate this. Its a little like getting a bucket of balls, shanking half of them, getting a few out about 100 yards, and having one blow out there near 300 due to a minor change in my grip. I gave up golf a long time ago, but I am sure as heck going to keep blogging if it is just a question of grip. Lets see now If I move my thumb over a bit on top of the pencil and totally relax. What do you think, 1500 hits ?
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AH POETRY Poets, like painters, thus unskilled to trace the naked nature, And the living grace, with gold and jewels cover every part, And hide with ornaments their want of art. Alexander Pope This speaks in the face of a previous observation that we are all poets just some are better than others. That would be biblical, not in the moral sense..but just common sense. We are endowed, each of us with this (her) own kind and level of giftedness. The reading of poetry takes absolutely no skill; perhaps a little rhythm, and just a little patience. The world is filled with it. The Bible resounds with it. We have little choice but to recognize it. Perhaps even understand some of it. Here is one writ today; Most people wonder why one writes poetry, Thinking it is easier said; just say it! Or pack up and take a shot another day. Poets milk their thoughts until all that is left, Is some kind of weird symbolism. Having sifted all the words there are, measuring The hard and the soft, until almost nothing says it all. And so crafted, like a tiny faceted jewel, It requires light for it to sparkle. At its best poetry draws you in- so sure that your Very own heart wrote it, or could have If it would hold still long enough For you to grab a pencil. What a complex responsibility for a restless heart, And, a very small piece of graphite.
THE ART OF BEING There once was a gathering of artists. Soon into the event, the conversation begins, as it often does; What is it that you do? This is just after one has fully explored what he does. A small blond lady with a kitten in her arms shares I make childrens bracelets out of fur balls. Another very tall man in a baseball cap and soiled overalls announces; I paint with oil: Mostly 10W30. I make decorative plaques out of chewing gum, follows another; pushing another stick of Wrigleys into her mouth. Then from a distant corner of the room came a tentative, near whisper from behind the huge potted persimmon tree:
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Excuse me mine is the art of being Among the smiles and titters, a response came from a lady holding a magnum of Chenin Blanc; Surely youre not serious! (giggle); Of being..what? She says, spilling a little wine on her pure white gown as she turned to confront. After considerable pause a more confident voice, even against this air of vapid ridicule, returns; The art of BEING what God intended A hush of deep contemplation quickly covers the scene. Verily, a single pin drop could be heard. That voice may well have been my wife, Audreys; though I cannot imagine her speaking through a persimmon tree to deliver that reticent response. She would declare that I have absolutely no talent whatsoever. Im just a homemaker. Youre the one that does the art! The fact is that she has honed, practiced and perfected her craft of being wife, mother, grandmother and caregiver for over eighty years. Recently, when the announcement came that our Grand Daughter, Amber, is having a baby, you could see a new light begin to glimmer in her eyes. She was thinking; Amber would need to return to work, and there will be NO day school for Elijah. Who is but twenty minutes away? Me! She had work to do beginning now. Her routine began at 8:30 on the high school track for twenty minutes, followed by fifteen minutes of stretching. She would be fit for being a great grandmother. Warning E mails appeared regarding plastic (ugg) baby bottles, harmful chemicals, unnatural fibers and supplements. Supportive information regarding health, hygiene, and samples of new amazing Huggies have shown up in various mail boxes. A fancy crib has shown up in our bedroom, with a nightgown laid out and ready. A large sign has been placed on it OPEN FOR BUSINESS. The search has begun for a used, but pristine, play pen. She exclaims, Thank God we kept the kids high chair in the attic. Milt, bring it down so we can take a look at it. All of this births the question, What is Art, if not all this? BEING what God intends - Only its so much harder to do for a lifetime. And the lady with the bottle of rare wine says; Ill drink to that!
WHAT MAKES FRIDAY GOOD A request has been made on the site to share Sunday messages. Today, Pastor Jack Hayford, from the Church on the Way in California visited us. He has been a mentoroff site father of our Foursquare church; and, historically close to our many pastors. He shares this joke as an opener; Little four- year old Susan sat on her grandfathers lap, lovingly stroking his weathered and wrinkled cheek. She asks, after some thought; Did God make you Grandpa? He answered, Yes, baby, a long time ago. Again; Did He make me too? His response, Yes dear, not very long ago.
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Susan smiled broadly and concluded; He sure is getting better at it, isnt He? The sermon was from Matthew, dealing with the last week of Jesus life; a traditional focus for the week before Easter. While much of it related to biblical truths surrounding that time, he came to a contemporary issue. He voice grave concern over the churches role in the politics of today. He reminded us that while it is right and proper to take a stand against those civil acts that violate Gods law; that the fact was, Jesus was neither Democrat or Republican- not even an American. He was the son of the Creator of all. Further; that whatever distractions we may create or be part of that serve to distract us from His mandates, may well bring ultimate ruin to us as individuals as a nation. Our first order is prayer for guidance. Jesus washing of feet, so sorely objected to by Peter, and brings proof of His great love for those who have traveled the dusty roads to be by his side. There is a time to take off our armour, and a time to put it on; but only after we have surrendered, in prayer - every bone, every cell in our bodies to the listening to his voice in every matter.
BE YOURSELF, EVERYONE ELSE IS TAKEN
We would smile at this not necessarily because it comes as words to live by but it suggests that we might be pretty cool as it stands, and we should not warm up to others works or standards. Shakespeare refines it to say: Unto thine own self be true, suggesting that we not indulge in self deception, In truth, this may just be a good mantra for a self-help guru and his book on awareness. In some opposition we are told, even as children, as we are sublimated or compared; Why cant you be more like.. or You are just like ( in a good way). It is true that we are uniquely gifted, but not because we are like Uncle Fred or Aunt Martha. Acts 11/17 refines things, seemingly to contradict our uniqueness in one way; For as much as God gave us life gifts unto us That would be all of us. Further in Acts 11/16; John was baptized with water. But ye shall be baptized with the Holy Ghost that again would be us as followers. As we see and compare and emulate others for what we see in them as desirable even to become as they are, we know that the grand similarity in all of us is that we are of God. If we be ourselves as followers, we are surely to be more like Jesus and led by the Holy Spirit. We may still be unlike anyone else in the world in response to that dictate. There is no formula; none established by religious practice, or by performance tests.
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Being more like Jesus is the ultimate test, and it is within our unique and unlimited potential to do that. To be (that) or not to be, is the (only) question. William Shakespeare . LOOKING AHEAD BACKWARDS In yesterdays reading, I came across a couple of things to share; This is a quote from Teddy Roosevelt called, Blessed No other successes in life of being President, or being wealthy, or going to college, or writing a book, or anything else- comes up to the success of a man or woman who can feel that they have done their duty, and that their children and grandchildren rise up and call them blessed. The Word calls up duty in many ways; mostly connected with the preface; thou shalt or shalt not and essentially to, raise them up. All this having reference to giving example. We can have achieved some goals in our life, but Teddy came to one conclusion. We may wait, as parents, for an open declaration of respect, but their conduct says it all. And that is enough that they rise up and do likewise. The process doesnt begin at some age of understanding, but earlier than one might expect. Perhaps you might smile at the attached profound and anonymous statement of a third grader who says; Whats a Grandmother? A grandmother is a lady who has no children of her own. She likes other peoples little girls and boys. A grandfather is a man grandmother, he goes on walks with boys and they talk about fishing and stuff like that. Grandmothers dont have to do anything except to be there. Theyre so old that they dont play hard or run. It is enough that they drive us the market where the pretend horse is, and have lots of dimes ready, or if they take walks, they should slow down past things like pretty leaves and caterpillars. They should never say hurry up. Usually grandmothers are fat, but not too fat to tie your shoes. They wear glasses and funny underwear. They can take their teeth and gums off. Grandmothers dont have to be smart, only answer questions like; Why isnt God married? and How come dogs chase cats? Grandmothers dont talk baby talk like visitors do, because it is hard to understand. When they read to us they dont skip or mind if it is the same story over again. Everybody should try to have a Grandmother, especially if they dont have a computer or television, because they are the only grown-ups who have time. I say; Pretty much.
THE BRAIN DRAIN Seven years ago I was asked to participate in a lifetime Brain Study called; The Effects of Ageing on the Brain. This is ongoing at our University Medical Center. I was selected for the following reasons: My brain is very old. It had not been terribly beat up by extrinsic stuff. And, though not expressed, I get the feeling that it was
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thought not to be terribly used; pretty much like a vintage car with low mileage, Perhaps just needing a good wax job. After extensive and repeated challenges by testing, scans, and in-home monitoring systems, it was found to forget in a fairly normal fashion and my motor skills (like the old car) had good brakes, but could no longer burn rubber at stoplight. Most of us would start to make inquiry as to what is normal? Some earlier thought, now dispelled by modern study, said we begin the process of physically dying right after our birth, and that our brain cells start to disappear when we get old. If we are to believe Princeton, and now many others, we can be somewhat assured that we continue to make muscle and brain cells until we depart from this world. My take is; that while this may be true, the weights on the exercise machines are putting on weight, and the new cells, however reproduced, are not as smart as the old ones. While I continue, as does the study, to make measurements- even delude myself with the idea that I am not just getting older but better; I have the great consolation in the fact that the Spirit in me tires not, dissipates not, and remains determined to carry any load brought about by the physical/mental ageing process. The University has not yet been able to measure His powers, but they surely know they are there. The Spirit tells me that it is necessary to care for the vessel, to continue to be a student, an ardent exerciser, a faithful lover of God, and to go to work every day in His Garden. I am encouraged not to worry about stuff.. .. I dont for very long. There is much work to do out there, and way enough time if I get up early, and, maybe have enough good cells that havent gone down the drain of time. He did make the Stopper you know.
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INSPIRATIONAL
SKYS THE LIMIT Did you ever participate in track events? How about high jumping; pole vaulting. How do you measure your individual success? Gonna make it? Form is excellent. Looks high enough, but is the pole going to tick the rod at the last moment to disqualify you. The predestination purist might offer; Only if God wills it. Job 14/15 says, Man who is born of woman is short lived and full of turmoil. Since his days are numbered, the number of months is with thee. And, his limits thou hast set that he cannot pass. This is offered by decree and the course has been arranged by God. We may be surprised by a report that we have cancer, our stock has plunged to new levels, our job has been terminated; or a myriad of unpleasant and mysterious things have come to be. We are asked to accept the will of God as being absolute, immutable, unconditional, just, good, and righteous. Romans 8/28 modifies it by saying; God causes all things to work together for those who love God. Back to the pole vaulter, and whether he might clear the bar; does the Word say; Only if he loves God? Or, that if he is an atheist or agnostic that he cannot possibly. My question is; If the modern, revised, idiom God (or the devil) is in the details can be translated into everything from winning touchdowns, boxing knockdowns; winning lottery tickets or academy awards why do we bother developing the skills to clear the bar, win the game, or get lucky? I have trouble assigning my success or failure totally to Gods prerogative or that we can necessarily do all things in Him. I am wonderfully made, but not that wonderful. God has clearly defined my limitations and potential. All the hope and prayer in the world cannot make me 7 ft. tall and able to jam a basketball while resting on my heels. His Spirit, however, will help me grow into His intention and design; to be able to do the job that I have been commissioned to do. Despite this - a game winning point or two wouldnt hurt: Especially if I am playing His game under His rules. May I be predestined to do just that. NEWS FROM DOWN UNDER This comes on Thanksgivings day 2010, and is my response to an E-mail of that day; There are days, and there are days. All of the Thanksgivings that we have celebrated lie in the shadow of this one. Some years ago we were privileged to meet a couple of Internationally known professional photographers who, in the course of several extended junkets, used our place as home base coming and going on their nearly year long trips by R.V. We purchased and sold Motor Homes for them. They live in Southern Australia.
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An amazing friendship began with these two who shared their many exotic nature photos, that I might paint them. I kept them in wheels for their year-long trips to this and surrounding countries. Starting some years ago, a steady invasion of cancer had begun on Robs body. After several surgeries he began a long series of Chemo treatments, he was told by the doctor; if he had one more trip to make that he better attempt it now. He said what he thought was his last goodbyes to his family. We were all reconciled - that he would be doing the thing that he loved most; photographing Gods creatures and creations in the far reaches of his Northern Australia bush country. Never did he openly express his faith; yet his love for his fellows, his reverence for the things of nature, spoke eloquently of that possibility. He and wife Cynthia packed up their new Mercedes 4 wheel diesel for the first and last time, to go north for an indefinite time. We prayed. They returned just days ago after some five months of travel. On this day Rob writes; Hi Milt and Audrey. I held off this E-mail until all results were known. Against all odds, I was given the all clear! When we commenced our trip north, I had doubts I may see anyone again. The oncologists prognosis and my weakened state did little to promote optimism. He continues, Your direct line, up above, must have worked! We are grateful for your contact and support. Many times when we were enjoying superb scenes, I thought; Milt would enjoy painting thisAnd further on; Would you appreciate a condensed version of our images of the trip? While it is his spirit, and an obvious new and enhanced relationship with God that is tantamount, the greatest gift to me is that he knows that our prayers may have played a part in his recovery. God will surely be in these pictures that he is sending me, for He went along with them on that final journey to His eternal heart. Praise God from whom all blessings flow Welcome back you two! Signed; All creatures here below, Come now, tell everyone stories about us. cc. Rob
THE TONGUELESS BELL What rider spurs him from the darkening East, As from a forest, and with rapid pound, Of hooves, now light, now louder on the hard ground, Approaches, and rides past with speed increased. Dark spots and flecks of foam are upon the beast. What shouts he from the saddle, turning round, As he rides on , Greetings from Nineveh! it seemed at least. Did someone catch the object that he flung? He held some object in his saddle bow, And flung it towards us as he passed;
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Among the children then it fell most unlikely; no, Tis here; a little bell without a tongue, Listen; it has a faint voice even so. Edna S.V. Millay It is understandable that as we are bombarded today by the written word, we miss many a point. As I finish reading Millays work, I am so taken by her meter and musicality, I return to the one word that makes the point of the whole piece. We have to watch that in poetry, where even one word can make all the difference. Here it is Nineveh. Im thinking it may as well be never-never land for all I know. The story is; that it was a magnificent city in the 700 BC era; a huge palace of at least 80 rooms, and built of 160 million bricks perhaps to rival our own Capitol building in grandeur. It was a victim of its own self importance and skullduggery. Does it remind you of something? God disclaimed it, and set Jonah to the task of bringing redemption and return. Jonah hated the assignment because of what it had represented and the harm that they had done to Israel. He hoped his ministry would fail, and it did. Today it is a stretch of ruins; Iraqs Ninwa Province, home of 150 Sunni Muslims. Millay, a Pulitzer prize winner, lived from 1892 to 1950. Much of her work had strong Christian content. She used the metaphor Bell without a tongue- that had A faint voice even so. We can only guess her meaning, but it is about Gods judgment. He forgave them that they might repent. Ninevah, not too big to fail, did so in short order; not for political or financial reasons, but for disobedience. I would compare the rider to the Holy Spirit who delivers Gods messages from the East thousands of years later. We will never still the voice of our Creator. As it was with Elijah, after the earthquake and fire, there was heard. A still, small voice. Millay must have seen those darkening clouds many years ago, and dropped the bell into our midst, fearing that we might be a Nineveh ourselves. Perhaps the time is now. Plan for our Gods answer to our lack of hearing and disobedience.
IF A TREE FALLS IN THE FOREST And, there is no one around to hear it; does it make a sound? Some of us will remember the philosophical inquiry from school. The answer No is absurd to most of us and foundational in our life experience. Is there an ocean because no one swims in it, no birds that fly because we see them not; no love because we do not experience it? Many agnostics even atheists would say; Dont be silly, of course it does! You dont have to hear it for it to be. What a giant step it is for them, however, to believe there is a God when you do not see Him? There can be no truth, no lies if no one
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listens. How far can we carry this? Yet it is given legitimate argument in the scientific and secular world. It has been resolved by most of us; that it is not the absence of sound that should be considered, but the absence of awareness. It is not necessarily a matter of belief. You do not have to believe in sound for there to be noise. We do not have to believe in electricity to use it. God does not need our belief for Him to BE. It is Gods conclusion that what He created was good. Had He not made man, all else would have existed. If all that he created required our witness to exist we would be in a sorry state; perhaps we really are. There would be no truth; Gods view of reality that would reveal a lie, no sense of morality or social responsibility. In short, humanism stakes much for granted as in the noise the tree makes; the unbelievers can cut it up to build their house that never was, on the lake that doesnt exist because no one sails upon it. It sounds silly to us as Christians, but as long as there is some conviction by anyone that he or she must believe in God for Him to exist; that somehow He depends upon us we are terribly misled. There will come a time when the ultimate question becomes one of - Do I exist in Gods eyes? I suppose that it depends upon the sound we make in His ears as we live our lives.
A RIVER RUNS THROUGH IT Many of you will recall the award winning movie and book written by Norman MacLean, having the above title. This is a quote from it; Eventually all things merge into one, and a river runs through it. On some of the rocks are timeless raindrops. Under the rock are words. This is pretty deep. and we do not really understand it until the story develops; perhaps it is difficult even then. The story tells of the different paths of two sons of a Presbyterian minister. The book carries a descriptive quote that captures the behavior of the young son. Edna St. Vincent Millay, my favorite poet, composes, My candle burns at both ends. It will not last the night. But Oh my foes and Oh my friends, it gives a lovely light. This is easy to understand, and captures the tragic life of the brother who died young in a life of self indulgence, never leaving home. The older son leaves and returns a solid, respected writer/teacher. This is certainly a twist on the Prodigal Son of the Bible. The father observes, Each of us will look upon a loved one who is in need, and the same question arises; Lord, but what, if anything is needed. Whether we dont know what part of us to give, or more often than not, the part that we have to give is not wanted and so we live with love. While there are spiritual undertones, the story does not deal with much more than the frustrations of reconciling the course of his two sons lives, and their ability to love yet not able to understand one another.
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I can relate to this having been characterized as the do everything right older son, and having a brother who died young as a recovered alcoholic who never measured up to his fathers expectations. While in truth I was mischaracterized, and far from perfect, I had a lifetime of endorsement from my father. My brother did not. As a painter in my later life, I have had an obsession for painting rivers, depicting the balance and beauty of Gods creativity. Rivers experience a complex series of impediments: twists and turns, rocks and rivulets. They change and recover and reconverge again and again. Likewise, a river does run through all of our lives. From the Christian viewpoint, it is Christ Himself; separating, rejoining, leaving raindrops upon the surfaces of our lives leaving His words to be discovered. This brings me to compose; Close our eyes and we see No beginning and no end We see an unending landscape Of unique and timeless blessings The rippling and murmuring sounds Speak unending praise We open our eyes and see unimagined Truth, enduring and universal The books younger brother, and mine, died with the same vision, but their focus was upon catching life; rather than letting life come to them.
Many years ago I wrote a number of poems that intended to share with my children. As it often happens, we dont always make the connection we desire. Fortunately we all grew up, and a time comes when some one of them might say; What was that poem? I dug these out of my files that I may catch someone ready for them among my little band of readers. In keeping with my own advise, mentioned before, I chose what must have been a provocative title, as they have been fairly successful with the viewers; I begin with the title Short Childrens Poems I continue; By that I dont mean poems for short children (though you may have one or three for all I know), they may work for tall children as well. To be inclusive they may be for neither, depending on your view of size and perspective. But, for children? I would admit at that time, forty years ago, I could write little that was particularly adult, and I am still having trouble. Nonethe-less you risk being under-whelmed by these; ACCEPTANCE Count the wonders near and far Count the rainbow, count the stars Every mountain, every hill
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Explain them all if you will How these things came to be Sometimes puzzles even me Long ago was the story told, you see God simply created all from dust Call it anything if you must AWAKENING I awoke one day and God had gone away My life turned bleak and cold Loneliness had filled my spirit So often had I been told I listened but didnt hear it God will come, and seem to go Just in my troubled mind Were never left alone, behind Life thus would be so hollow He simply leaves to reach a higher place Its just up to us to follow
REASONABLE BEAUTY Though we travel the world over to find the beautiful, we must carry it with us or find it not; Emerson Whoa! I wonder if you are, as I am, one of those who often say; I wish I had said that Whether or not we are that profound, it is important that we feel things that are important to our souls as is beauty. Keats further confounds us as he declares: Beauty is truth, truth beauty, that is all we know on earth, and all we need to know That is, until the Word says; I am the truth and the way and put a lid on it. Shakespeare gives his light to all of the above by sharing; If circumstances lead me, I will find where truth is hid, though if were hid within the center. That would be a common thought if it were pronounced by a lawyer who will defend either side, but we all as Christians know its not hidden, but in the Word. For those of us who remember the path of deductive reasoning from some obscure class in the past, we can reach reasonable conclusions that may not be true. It is also said that reason is not the means by which we come to know God. Shakespeares referred to center is, I believe, God - the center of all creation and thought. As God first believed that we were visual creatures, His first works were creations of infinite beauty. The seeds of reverence for beauty are not learned, they are innate and
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irrevocable. We carry it with us because they are visual declarations of His truth. No one has to define it for us; beautiful sunsets, the grandeur of a mountain canyon or surging ocean, the intricacies of hummingbird or zebra, or the open tenderness of a new mother and her nursing child. These are but a few of the infinite number of truths that our soul comprehends without word or argument. We may travel the world over, but if we know not these truths, we cannot find reason in God: An ugly place to be in the midst of Glory.
THE WINTERS OF SPIRIT I dont know about you, but its been a long winter so far; One that tries the Spirit that looks most anywhere for respite, and probably for many, strength or peace. We rely on that brighter day promise offered by the Word. There are 232 verses in KJV that refer to Strength, and some 429 that refer to Peace. At times those are just words, and we seek another language, another expression. We look beyond our four walls. I wonder if we appreciate how much an outdoor book the Bible is. Passages that within walls seem improbable or incredible outdoors seem merely natural. This is because outdoors we are confronted everywhere with wonders; we see that the miraculous is not extraordinary, but a common mode of existence. We may forget the great and continuing miracle by which water (with soil and sunlight) is turned into grapes. We overlook the power of silence, but for those of ongoing nature that sing glory through the nights and days of our Spirits many winters. I count the following poem, Along with Gods word, as an expression of that in His Works.
SLEEPING IN THE FOREST I thought the earth remembered me, she took me back so tenderly arranging her dark skirts, her pockets full of lichen and seeds. I slept as never before on the riverbed, nothing between me and the white fire of the stars and my thoughts, and they floated light as moths among the branches of the perfect trees. All night I heard small kingdoms breathing around me, the insects, and the birds who do their work in the darkness. All night I rose and fell, as if in water, grappling with a luminous doom. By morning I had vanished at least a dozen times
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into something better. Mary Oliver; Twelve Moons. Thank you Mary for that small vacation until Spring!
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WITNESS
LEAN NOT ON OUR OWN UNDERSTANDING Luke 21; 14 instructs; Resolve and settle in your own mind not to meditate and prepare beforehand how you are to make your answer. For I will give you a mouth and such utterances that all of your foes combined will not be able to stand against or refute. This may be hard to accept because we have been told, even as a Boy Scout, be prepared. We are in good company, for even Paul had difficulty in accepting the above concept when he worried many times about what he would say. When we reconcile this with our own nature to be ready, to be studied in the art of argument and the idea of predetermination; finally in the goal of winning, it is a stretch. We allow, however, the Holy Spirit to speak through us many times to alter our course. Yet as I write this post and other writings, I do not agonize over each thought before I lift a pencil. Words just happen. Writers might call that stream of consciousness. I figure, whats to lose, but when I face an adversary I want to prevail. It must be considered thought. God has given us the Word which is entirely sufficient. Perhaps the only thing that is. No situation will occur when it does not have application. The answer lies in reconciling our own reason; then leaving it to Him. Robert Browning confirms, All that we have gained by our unbelief is a life of doubt diversified by faith. While sometimes this may be viewed as a passive stance, we are commanded, Leave not to our own understanding.
I LOVE A MYSTERY Few of us will remember radio as The voice of all news and communication. For those who were not living in the thirties, I would picture for you that big, rounded mahogany box (to enhance the sound) with fat control knobs and a grill covered with tapestry fabric. It sat on a mahogany table in the living room with a crocheted doily under it. The antennae, cleverly strung over the door casing. Those who can imagine that scene can recall the all time adventure series; I Love a Mystery, circa 1939 : Each captured the mysteries confronted by Jack, Doc, and Reggie. So influential was the show that it even inspired the Hanna- Barbera cartoon, Scooby Doo, Where are You? In that, I have just invited aboard those who remember the late sixties and early seventies. It seems that not knowing what comes next, or being scared out of our pants rates pretty darn high on the entertainment scale from the very early days.
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The bible holds its own with anything we can conjure up in the miraculous and unseen, for it shows the world where regular life is continually touched by divinity. The unseen world of the divine and miraculous power is measured against everyday stuff. People today often think of miracles as events that defy the laws of nature, as in the rising of the setting sun, and the intervention of Jesus where nature was altered. When the bible was written, there was an entirely different perspective; they believed that God governed everything that happened; Seed and harvest, feeding the birds of the air, clothing lilies the simplest of things. Then and now, whatever we may attribute to things of God today, He holds the key to the future, and chooses His own moments of revelation. It is an every day serial where He chooses to broadcast His will and way. We just need to stay tuned. Then, the wall between the ordinary, visible world and the unseen will dissolve. As Paul said: We see in the mirror, dimly, but then face to face; 1 Cor 13/12. We are challenged by the mystery of it and, like the child I was, I love it except now there is no static and it no longer scares me out of my pants!
ON THE MAKING OF MUD PIES Most of us know the writing of C.S. Lewis; one of the greatest travel guides in history for the journey from atheism to absolute belief. It would be expected that an Oxford Professor might confound many of us with his intellect. Some of his observations are certainly over my head, or at least hard to grasp because of his prodigious vocabulary ( a word he might use). Often though, he surprises us with very simple truths; particularly when he takes us from our perceived responsibility to religion, and the restraints that it might be involved. He says, that if we ask; What is the highest of virtues? Most all would say love; that is considered to be unselfishness. He suggests that we consider that love may not be the idea of securing good things for others; that perhaps the happiness of others is not as important as the notion of self denial as the ultimate end. While it does not describe my concept of what love is, or maybe yours, it is a common perception that has biblical support; take up our cross of self denial. Further, as to this idea to desire our own good and to hope for lifes enjoyment is a bad thing; he says balderdash ( or whatever they say in England), and he counters; If we consider the staggering rewards promised in the gospels, it would seem that our Lord finds our desires not too strong, but too week. We hare half-hearted creatures, fooling with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered to us. Like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at sea. We are too easily pleased. St. Thomas Moore, perhaps his equal in Christian scholarship, as he probably spoke from within his hair shirt (part of his religious practice) agrees, in that The problem is never spirituality in itself, which is necessary for human life, but the narrow fundamentalism that arises when spirituality and soul are split apart.
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More than two great minds have challenged the concept that we must suffer in and for our Christianity. I believe that our soul and the Spirit within us says; let me breathe the pure and sweet air of Gods grace and promise; no hair shirt, no mud pies - Just the idea that allows us to dream for ourselves, and at the same time be reverent, without guilt, immodesty or forced humility. I believe that is what Jesus had in mind.
VISITING PSALM 90 The riches that are to be found in the Psalms lie in how we interpret them. Often it is a challenge; for sometimes the meanings seem obscure. I believe a very good way to increase our understanding is to rephrase them for ourselves. As in the case here, interpreting Psalm 90.
Lord God we dwell in you Ruler before all, or will ever be As to dust we return, you dream infinityAs if it were only yesterday Each life can spring anew as in seeded grass That knows not yet the morning dew Your answer to our sin and willfulness is anger As we become old and gone to this world Our fear lingers, as our heart struggles for lost gifts Of your great compassion and love May we bathe in Your wisdom Even as we are the source of our own afflictions Found in last light is your unfailing love, as we testify To those around us, unto generations and beyond; This is an everlasting blessing; as you now describe Our path to your door through forgiveness As our hands now know the permanence of your grace We witness eternity as be begin that journey In your perfect timing- Perfect love.
AFTER THE BALL IS OVER Most all of us will recall Yogi Barras observation; Its not over til its over. Heres one; courtesy of me: We are not yet what we will become It is equally oxymoronic. The most accurate summation would be; its not over until God says it is. Life is full of landmarks that suggest finishing points; Hooray! Ive graduated. Thank God the kids are grown; retirement - Now I can do what I want! These are only
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transition points in our lives; the end of something and the beginning of something else. We are still becoming, yet we carry our past experiences that shape us into what we will be. The question arises in one form or another; Why am I here? the idea that we have to accomplish a certain things in life to make it worthwhile. With this comes a level of anxiety that is not particularly encouraging, but rather judgmental. Perhaps we think we do not have enough time left. How we fit into things is not necessarily our choice. We may be most ordinary by some standards, or overflowing with talents. Our task is to be prepared for Gods invitation. It may come sooner, but never too late. For instance, one of the greatest things one can do is to raise a child to be happy and wise; to be a good neighbor, an involved citizen. Even the most accomplished or elevated of our citizens treasure ordinary life, friendship, family and connection. If we have experienced these things, we know that it is our soul that required these reassurances. If we have not fully realized them, this may well be the source for our being re-energized and recommitted. There is always a season for that kind of introspection and discovery. I think of the despair inspired by the well known song; After the ball is over, After the break of dawn, After the dancers leaving, After the stars have gone, Many a heart is aching, If you could read them all, Many a hope is vanished, After the ball. Very sad? but, for us the faith-full, our partner has not abandoned us, the music continues; perhaps even more sweetly than before. And, the dance is not over until God says so. And, its never now.
AND THERE WAS Just days ago the question of which came first; the chicken or the egg was resolved. A team from two credible Universities examined the formation of a chickens egg under the microscope and found that the shell was made from a protein found in the chicken ovaries. Now, why didnt I think of that? Probably because I always threw them out with the yucky stuff before I dropped it in the skillet. Actually, I never have lost much sleep over the issue, since I was sure that God never made ovaries first, anymore than many elements of creation such as mountains, oceans, trees, chickens or Eve. He made everything complete, finished. Nothing had to mature or mutate into what it is. And, it was all good.
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Nor can there be an issue of what was created first; light or darkness. He created light to cancel out or displace darkness, Let there be, and it was easy as that (for Him). There was however underlying darkness; distress, morning, perplexity, ignorance, death, realities of war, oppression, abuse, and greed. These were intended to be overshadowed by light in the form of peace, joy, and love. In turn, when we walk in His light, we become light; demonstrating what is acceptable, exposing what is not. It is no wonder that we have such a reverence for Gods first act - light, as we sing and write and paint to bring that brightness into lives. Artists have attempted to illustrate it in one way or another, to bring focus and emotion. The Hudson River painters of light, Kincaid and a host of others featured it even above color even content. We are energized as though solar powered in the bright things we create. We are required then to be batteries for others to be jump- started on that cold day; and to light the path when shadows form to misdirect and confuse. Darkness was always with us in some form or another. It will be so in at least half our lifetimes. But always will it surrender not dominate; and, be ever subject to Gods will and our enlightenment.
THE BLINK OF AN EYE Within the context of Gods timetable, our life on earth is as a blink of an eye. He is with us in the beginning, and with us at the end. We appreciate this on our own as we grow older; when the days grow shorter. When things seem like only yesterday. We can learn this from the lives of others as they reflect, examine and assess their lives fulfillment and purpose. Most notable is the witness of Moses; arguably the most revered of men who walked this earth, save Jesus. When he was banished from the Egyptian kingdom he, in effect, squandered his life tending to sheep for forty years before he began to live in Gods grace - then to become His instrument for change. There are 150 Psalms in the bible, less than one half written by David, but only one attributed to Moses; Psalm 90. He shares that same perspective about time in verse 2: Before the mountains were brought forth or even You (God) formed and gave birth to the earth and the world, even from everlasting to everlasting, You are God verse 4 For a thousand years in Your sight are but yesterday. And finally verse 10 The days of our years are three score and ten (seventy years) or even by reason of strength, fourscore years; yet is their pride (in additional years) only labor and sorrow, for it is gone, and we fly away. This lament for lost years can occur at anytime when we begin to assess how we have used the time we have. As with Mosses, we may be allowed to give away years and years of opportunity then discover our loss; perhaps to change and bring true meaning to our existence. That is if we know what true meaning is.
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If life has become a series of going to school, getting a job, getting married, having children, getting married again; then retiring to take stock of things so as to come to the grand conclusion that there is very little time left we have fallen into the normal pattern of things. Moses predicted that it is soon gone. During this whole interval described in verse 2; God is God in the everlasting. That is real time! My perspective, being more than fourscore year of age, is; If by reason of strength suggesting that it may be my strength, nothing can be further from the truth. It can be only in His strength. While few of us are rewarded in direct measure to our holiness (great or small), we can only believe that it is according to our value to God as His servants; how we use our time. In the case of Methuselah, of Abrahamthe servant in them was graced with biblical, often symbolic proportions. There resides in each of us a servant than can and must awaken for that blink of an eye when we may be given reason to our lives. We must not look away at any ageeven for a moment; for as we, as Moses says; fly away we leave eternity behind us: This is a dear price to pay for our dereliction.
ON EATING HAPPINESS. The poet Millay composes: I must not die of pity; I must live Grow strong, not sicken; eat, digest my food. That it may build me, and in doing good To blood and bone, broaden the sensitive Fastidious pale perception: We contrive Lean comfort for the starving, who intrude Upon them with our pots of pity; brewed From stronger meat must be the broth we give. Blue, bright September day, with here and there On the green hills a maple turning red And white clouds racing in the windy air. If I would help the weak, I must be fed In wit and purpose, pour away despair And rinse the cup, eat happiness like bread. Poetry is somewhat unlike music and art in the way that it may be interpreted; because, not for what it does to you like other arts, but for what it does with you. If I read this poem correctly, it is centered upon serving others needs, only after we are right and ready. We cannot help but be reminded of the adage; Physician heal thyself. If we are to spread peace, comfort and joy, we must first know what it looks like. Our recoveries, reinforcements, and rehabilitations are needful experiences. God does not require us to wear a hairshirt of a monk as our garment; or suffer desperation to drive us to discovery; but by first treating ourselves as His temple; redeemed, rinsed, and ready for the joy of service in His many missions.
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THE CLEVER MOUTH Picture a scene along a dock with three sailboats tied off, resting in an early morning introduced by the rising of the sun yellow and looming large on the horizon; sprinkling light upon a calm azure sea. The delicate masts and rigging are backlit showing in a maze of delicate horizontals and verticals: Flags waving in the strong westerly breeze. Words cannot describe the completeness. This is the image which accompanies this bog; We would say, artist or not. Gee I wish I could paint like that. I said it, but then looking further, I found that this artist painted it with a brush in his mouth: Mouthpainted, by Mariusz Maczka, who lost the use of his hands. He is one of 700 artists internationally who belong to the group MFPA. They paint and sell their works in a collective effort to try to generate income - not through charity, but through self help. There are some 70 0f those members in the U.S. one may use his mouth, yet another his feet. I am surprised that there is no mention made of any Spiritual motivation on their website. Certainly it must be there. The focus is however on self help and rising above handicaps. One artist who could not dismiss or discount the power of God to work in the whole process of healing and discovery, is Joni Earekson Tada. she has been a force in Christian Ministry for over 40 years. She is even more disastrously afflicted in that she is paraplegic. I imagine many of you have seen her on television appearances and through her books and poetry. She has painted all that time- until recently. In 2010 she became a victim of breast cancer. She was operated on earlier in the year and has since gone through chemotherapy. The prognosis is very good, but she still suffers intense pain in her back that seriously limits her. She vows to return soon to her busy schedule. In recent interviews she was asked the obvious questions. Among them was; why do bad things happen to good people? Her answer was; I suppose suffering is the result of living in a fallen world. Suffering is like a sheep dog snapping at our heels that drives us into the arms of God, where we would not otherwise go. That may well be the case for all of us. To sum it up; I cannot believe the strength of some lives that have been reduced to rubble- yet they have chosen to do heroic and miraculous moves and reconstructions, so they can answer Gods call to give witness to His gift in them. Many of us should be ashamed of our often feeble efforts to honor Him as whole, equipped, and functioning servants. I would count myself among them at times. Dear Lord forgive me, I pray that every time I am stricken with laziness, insecurity, or misdirection, you will be quick to call The Spirit into my weaknesses and encourage me back on track. Amen
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KEEPING IT SHORT There is the suggestion out there in the blogging world that posts be limited in size; that many readers will look at the size (number of words listed) and it would discourage some who feel that they dont have time for your seminar. As I have said elsewhere, I have subscribed to that idea; the old idiom; He who fights (or whatever) and runs away, lives to fight another day. Some have gone to part one, part two, etc. format to present free standing, shorter segments that address the same subject. The following is an attempt to do that. Somehow it has engaged a great many viewers. Visits are shown on each post. Under the theory that one can take only so much poetry at one time, and the reality that I cannot write long ones; I used this next title. SHORT POEMS FOR THE DEFINITELY TALLER CHANGES A touch of chill is in the air, Should summer not despair? Proud summer soon to yield Its fruitful bower, its grassy field. Yet it still has much to do That gracious host to me and you Way too sunny to be sacrificial But what about those signs of red? Spent flowers gone to bed Signs to me that falls official Yet fickle fall will have its way With subtle changes every day Must we now surrender too, To Gods promise of something new? Oh yes, we welcome seasons time That show new visions so sublime.
REMEMBRANCE Softly rings the venerable church bell Its sharpness gone round Roundness settling on the hills Of grass and wilted flowers It tolls the time of seasons gone Lost to those who lay Beneath the weathered stones
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Years have dimmed its once singular voice To sound much like any other Except for the whisper-faint echo Heard only by those who listen hard Those souls who rest in its long shadow Are listeners still, and remember why. John Donne writes; Therefore send not to know for whom the bell tolls, it tolls for thee
GIFTEDNESS
There can be little written about Christian calling that would not be found in the word of God. As Christian creatives, we can say that this would be particularly true. As God is the creator, we are privileged to create as well; Certainly not as originators but witnesses of all things that were, are, or may be planed for by Him. In that sense we are messengers with distinct and defined responsibilities and guidelines. There are those of us who believe that, in a large measure, we are shaped by circumstances and by those around us. We would not deny that we have within us a seed that predisposes us even before conception; to be harvested as a product inherent in our giftedness. We have, at the same time, a chosen path - chosen by God, and a choice as to whether or how we follow it in faith. We are instructed in Psalm 16: 11; Thou wilt show me the path of life; in thy presence is fullness of joy, at the right hand there are pleasures everywhere. The rewards are clear. Purpose is what we search for most of our lifetimes. We may find it and lose it several times. Some seeds seem to be annuals, fruitful for only a season. Some are perennial because they have been recognized and watered a lasting beauty in His garden. It may be our own will at times that would be a barrier to finding reason and purpose, but it also may be the lack of belief that purpose has already been established in us. We, in the arts, may chose life with a gift already fashioned for completion and delivery to those around us, or we can let it remain undeveloped and undelivered. We may further believe, and correctly so; that our gift may not even be our lives work, but it may well be the thing that makes our life work.
GIFTED SIN NO MORE What a break artists often get in the eyes of others. They are referred to as painterly. They are told that they are colorful, expressive, profound, stimulating, and a host of other adjectives, as though there is a special preference in the heart of God particularly if the work is Christian. That kind of adulation comes only from the voices of man.
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The Word says: And when they come into the house, they say the young child with Mary, His mother, and they fell down and worshiped Him, and when they opened their treasures, they presented unto Him gifts; gold frankincense and myrrh, God recognizes things of our world, but seldom are they of His; Gold being the measure of exchange, further - things of the senses, even soul. Scripture always has a way of saying God favors no one gift, but all of them were equally dependant upon our motivations. Does He choose only the most beautiful voice for his choir, or the most affluent among His flock? Certainly not; to the contrary, He desires only the thing most personal, most valued and dear to us. This would be our praise in the form of His gift to us, developed within our own God-given abilities. His acceptance may well be qualified in the words; Go and sin no more - for He may well count as sin our failure to continue to use His gifts for His glory. Whether ours be fashioning Gold into a sacred cross for adornment and testimony, a considered prayer or verse for healing, or even an apple pie with its heavenly aroma, offered to one who has yet to taste one; they count the same in his kingdom. May those efforts be your best, however valued by man. May they be ongoing. May they be beautiful in His sight.
TALKIN TALENTS Nothing will bring us closer to the understanding of Gods plans for us than in the parable found in Matt: 25. The master had entrusted each of three servants with money to invest for his benefit; each in accordance with his own abilities: One talent to one, another two, and the last one, five. In todays money each one measured over the equivalent of $1000 a very dear sum in those days. Talent as used by Jesus, does not mean something we possess, but what the Lord possesses and loans to His servants; you and I. In that, we must reconcile ourselves to the fact that Gods gifts accomplish much more through some than others. Dr. Land, and expositor of the bible says; God does not attempt to put a lake into a bucket. The analogy may seem a bit absurd, but it is a fact of life that there is genius and industry among us that allows for larger accomplishments one over the other. Talent and ability do not mean the same thing. Talents are spiritual gifts. Ability is our fitness and personality attributes. The fact that one received only one talent was because he was not able to handle more. Many of us fall into the one talent category. Yet, those of us who have the least are bound to serve with what we have. We must never bemoan the smallness of His gifts to use. Dr. Lockyer, in All of the Parables of the Bible offers; It is better to have last place in Gods service in faithfulness, than first place in unfaithfulness. It we have one talent, we must use it to gain one more. God rewards devotion, not genius. More is expected of the five-talented servant than the others. He draws no favorites.
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Regardless of where we judge ourselves to be on the scale of vestments, all men are created equal in His eyes. Luke shares in 12/24; For whomsoever much is given, of him shall much be required. The parable may well not finish there. There is more. There are rewards and punishments. To embellish Dr. Lands metaphor; One never know the size of our bucket until we try to fill it. You may se sure that the Lord knows its capacity. He made it and he expects it to be filled. Your reward will be in that measure. If you will excuse me, I hear water running; is it my bucket or yours?
THE TRUTH OF IT In this world of abbreviated techno-conversation, it is hard to make the case for good ole story tellin. As Christians, we know where many of our best stories come from. John 1:1; In the beginning was the word, and the word was with God. From day one the narrative was in the mouths of the story tellers. Until the 10th Century and the time of King David, nothing was written down. At that time a great story teller might memorize an epic of some 30,000 lines of poetry as only part of his repertoire. Most of us had trouble with The Pledge of Allegiance at first. Learning by repetition was almost as important to the people that were listening as it was for the teller. Rarely would the listener let the story teller invent something new. The meaning of the tale could not be touched. It belonged to the people. Classic is the role of the teller in the Indian culture; to this date he is high on the totem pole. Contrast this with what has been termed as historical revisionism; which says that the interpretation of events need to be changed to fit contemporary values and objectives. Had this been the case of the Word of God; so that it would fit whatever objective, we would have had no etched- in- stone (literally) version to hand over to posterity. Certainly, it would have been easier to revise it as it was spoken. If the listener had not remained faithful to the intent and reason of the message; not to mention the intent of the Creator of the content, there would be little truth. No, they were steadfast listeners who revered the story and would not let it be distorted. Psalm 19:14 , dictates the responsibility; Let the words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart be acceptable in thy sight. Truth is what it is. There is no metaphor for it. It may not be embellished or altered to fit any agenda. We must be vigilant as stewards and story tellers, in and for our families, to make sure we all get it right as God sees it. Our writings must be considered as worthy of being etched in stone, not because they are clever, interesting, or thought provoking: But, because they are true; and do not fit into any new standard. May we seek opportunities to seek and connect, speak and listen, to dialog as old as the first words that come from Gods mouth; It is good- and for as long as the last words of Jesus, It is over.
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LET THERE BE LIGHT Straight forward glows a single eye Winking steadily in the darkness, As we push our way through the fog and foamy violent surf. Our sails are touched in white flashes. A distant bell dings a steady muted cadence. A single jeweled finger shows, broken, And disconnected into blurry fragments. Spinning danger upon the shores Of lapping, frothy-spew. We know at once that death summons. Our lungs fill with that grave image, and We turn around in absolute desperation. Our ship shudders in relief, As it bears against the pulling tide. Pure light now plays against our starboard. Creaking sounds deny the safety of our course, Yet we hear our souls sigh in deep release; As huge swells roll past our stern To wash away our last vision of doom. This, as our same silent Savior prepares to Light the path for yet another salvation: The legions of others who break in new desperation Upon the dark and distant horizonWith their broken compasses.
ART OF BEING 11 To be or not to be was Shakespeares question. To suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or take arms in a sea of troubles. 2 Cor. 5:17 Paul says; Therefore any man be in Christ, He is a new creature Psa. 104:33 relates: I will sing unto the Lord as long as I live. I will sing praise to my God while I have my being. Browning romanticizes; How do I love the. Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height my soul can reach. For the ends of being and ideal grace.
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These declarations leave us to ponder the range of beings. Is it unfathomable? Yes, and more. We come to this earth in at least three ways; our physical self; a soul that searches for God, and a gift for service that seeks to fulfill His plan for us. I have settled it in my own mind. That is all resolved in the art of being what God intended. Self can be. Soul can be, but the gift from God is an active, ongoing mandate because we find ways to serve Him by using it; each in our own fashion and to the extent that it has been given. The struggle within us all is that- we can agree to our having an ordained presence, but we argue about the gift: Even to the extent of not looking for it out of false modesty or even a real sense of humility. It is not our choice, nor is it our choice to neglect to help others in that discovery. Let us not test Him in this matter. Selfishly, it is the source of our own purpose in life that cannot be discounted or discarded.
BEFORE WE WERE BUTTERFLIES One morning recently, with nothing special in mind, I sat down at my art table waiting for inspiration. I often do that as I write or paint; sometimes out of the blue, it comes. As I looked out of my studio window onto the garden full of new blossoms, I was struck as never before, with the amazing symmetry in a black and white butterfly that had settled on a hanging pot of flowers; each wing an exact duplicate of the other- this, in stark contrast to the overall burst of colors all around it. Before I knew it, my brush had ventured into the world of butterflies; never a previous subject for me. Several paintings followed, each a different butterfly. I had often labored over explicit depictions of biblical subjects through narrative painting. How could this fit in? Yet, I knew the Spirit had something in mind. If you have read some of my writings, you know I am big on metaphors, so you would know it is no stretch to find one here. In the back of my mind, I had understood that the butterfly had long been the symbol of the resurrection process; The worm disappearing into a cocoon of retreat and security, to appear dead only to emerge infinitely more beautiful and powerful than before; scripturally raised in glory, sown in weakness, and raised in power; Gods truth, worthy of a Seminar, much less in a painting. There is something beyond this; we must die that we be raised. We are no more what we were. We have left our cocoon of retreat, security, and self indulgence and we would have perished, yet then to become beautiful in His eyes. We are unique in our own new symmetry, and we may ourselves wing our way into eternity. It is not strange that God has replicated that same process in most all of what we see in His creation. I have had the privilege of painting and writing about so many of these transformations in process. We all can do that, each in our own way as God has prescribed. It is your gift as well. Here I thought we were only talking about butterflies. But, nothing of the Spirit is ever lost. He does not deal in the accidental.
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WATERS ABOVE AND BELOW And God made the firmament and divided the waters which were under the firmament from the waters which were above the firmament, Genesis 6. And the earth brought forth vegetation: plants yielding seed according to their own kinds and trees bearing fruit and God said it was good. Genesis 11. Therein, lies the first dilemma for all of us as artists; each in our own way but not for Him. He had a plan, an ultimate design. The perennial problem for painter, poet, writer, crafter is; when do I stop, when is it good? When do we back away; frame it or post it, or show it to our friends? Our vision is such that we can only comprehend a finite portion of what is out there. Life, and all that is part of it, is an infinite narrative. We express it a word at a time, a stroke at a time, and act at a time; there is no let it be. We must do, whatever it is, well. And, until the Spirit calls it good; and we stop only when it is. God knows this- because He knew, and he knows the very end of things before the beginning. When we are crafted in His image, it has nothing to do with our having His vision. The minute we begin to assume He surprises us with revelations of our own foolishness and simple natures. What He does expect is that we respect the process, and know while the world was built around us in our dominion; we are simply stewards of our giftedness. We cannot claim ownership. We may think that this requirement for nurture is some kind of burden, but there is nothing that we can imagine that was not done for us, His children. When we take care that we do not shun the details of makes our life good by being professional and attentive. Slow to judge what is good in our own vision, rather than be judged by the Spirit, we make Gods job easier for Him to frame or publish us at the end as good and faithful.
GODS PAINTBRUSH In gods good and perfect lands We live in the wonder of His works Would we to borrow His brush How would I paint the day? I would make the sky as it rolls and rumbles Across the canvass of His World; Azure blue heavens dotted with cloudsEach shaping what we would make of them Piling one upon the other as they settle soft Into the near purple pool at the horizon
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The sun would surrender in the west casting Blood red shadows across the fading landscape, That bleeds staccato into the transient waves Jutting upwards would be darkened fingers Of rock, like giant exclamation points Planted deep, mirrored in the swirl Of whitest froth and spray-spread That ripples downward to the silvered shore Then erasing, and again replacing itself A lone figure, man, would stand looking outward He, being full reminded of transient beauty That begins and ends nowhere but at His hand Behind him waiting; a legion of those who beg For place in this fragile process, and long to Behold His works for just one moment Praying in unison that it be within His will And in His time
THE LIVE IN This post has a photograph of my studio door and two signs. Milts Art Studio, thats what I thought initially. I subsequently added what you can not read in the second, smaller sign; This is my Stronghold, Chapel, and my Sanctuary; and I pray the Permanent Home of the Holy Spirit. This is the door of my little hobbit house just outside my bedroom door. It is quite small, but equipped with all I need for my books, writings, computer, painting supplies, and with table for drawing, matting and framing. It is a bit crowded, with over a hundred (framed and otherwise) works stored there. Most are not for sale; they are for display, wherever possible, in venues where I rely upon them to create an opportunity for Christian dialog; stores, galleries, street display, and churches. In the past I have given a great many pieces to my family and friends (even my doctor and dentist). They would be thank- yous, birthdays, holidays, wedding gifts and the like. The playback from this has been very gratifying as recipients have located them in their offices, homes, and sanctuaries where they may be seen as an ongoing part of their own Witness for Gods Word, His Works. While some would fall way short of being great art, and would not sell in the secular marketplace, most all reflect workings through His Spirit. The above sign says; And I hope the Permanent Home of the Holy Spirit seeming to suggest that He may come and go. I no longer believe that to be true; or that He appears only for inspirations that I have always credited to Him. In this, I have
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arrived where many of you are in your beliefs. He NEVER leaves or forsakes us. While He may initiate creativity in whatever we do from time to time, He is in waiting for our display of discipline, a dedication to grow and develop what we already own: Gifted by God. If I dry up or become discouraged, He encourages what is already in me; but not necessarily to do the work Himself. If He does not show up, its because he doubts the seriousness of the invitation. You do not hang it on your door- but on your heart. In that His is resident, not guest. You may wonder how many ways I can talk about gifts and their use. There is no doubt that we can agree that we all have gifts. It is how God provides us with opportunities for their use that may be most important. Many of us may suffer, from time to time, from loss of purpose. Their use and our gaining purpose are synonymous.
A TICKET TO PURPOSEVILLE As I look for comparatives, it seems to me that a pretty fair one might be to compare having a Eurail Pass. For those who have not had the privilege; It is a pre-purchased pass that permits one (in Europe) to get on and off a train at any time without a specified prepaid ticket. Those who have had that experience know the joy of that instant response to opportunity. While all trips should have some structure, some plan; it often happens that the most exciting and gratifying experiences are where when we have said, after looking out the window; Lets do it and just get off . We know that another train will be along in a few hours or even minutes. You probably know where I am going with this. We all have a ticket; Gods gift. We may have predetermined how we are going to use it Yet, we have the flexibility of unlimited use and are able to look for challenge and newness as we look out our window at the countryside. The security then is- that God will come to take us back to our planned destination. Just this week came a call from Lucinda, an art teacher at Veritas Christian School; Can you come by and talk to five of my classes about your ideas about giftedness and show them how you do your art? Well, duh; does a duck have lips? A day later cam the call from Jean, an aspiring pastor, who has, for the past year, taught bible study at a very large Senior Care facility, asked me Can you visit and share some of our work that covers some of my recent scriptural topics? I had been looking out my window and the scenery didnt seem to be changing; but suddenly what a new landscape! From nine year olds to ninety year olds in two days, and, the opportunity to share Gods word visually. While it is debatable as to how much these villagers were blessed by these visits that would be a problem for the Holy Spirit who says; Let me worry about that; I have counseled you. You have my words on it. I praise God with all my heart for the ticket and, for all the stops along the way that I had never planned for, but that give my life meaning.
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Please.Check your pocket. Is the pass there? Good! Where did you plan to go? PURPOSEVILLE When are you coming back? Never, Its as lifetime journey Your ultimate destination? His heart It IS about the destination.
DIARY OF A CHRISTIAN ARTIST I cannot pretend that my work is ordained or anything that lofty. It is what it is; a gift from God much the same as we all have been given. There was a time when I thought I could create and sell my work in the market place, chasing the illusive pulse of the fickle and sometimes deluded buyer or gallery owner. Sufficient is the understanding that much is invested by Him, not to please men alone, but to glorify Him. Often we communicate what we cannot otherwise say, but in that delicate and heartfelt language of the arts; testimony from the heart and soul, entirely sufficient unto Him. If any of my work falls into that category, I am blessed indeed. The last two years of my work gives some real evidence of the Holy Spirit working in me. These revelations are not happy accidents as some are disposed to say. I live for those moments when I lose my intention to His. In every work now I do not look for hidden meaning but His obvious presence. I am strongly tempted not to sign any of my work until I find it moreover not to sign it at all. Many I will never sell. They will be offered as gifts. We are all given the means to give testimony. Some choose to give voice as leader or follower. Some will seek artful ways of doing it. Not one of us escape the responsibility of choosing HOW not whether we will do this. It is not strange that God would not only give us the means but the choice as to how we may be most successful. Some may have many gifts; others mistakenly say they have none. Nowhere does the Word say that a gift comes fully developed. As Jesus said to Paul; Do not worry what you say, or how you will say it, the Holy Spirit is with you. He will give you voice. Nowhere does it say that God requires perfection only, that we fully develop to the level that we have been given; each in his own measure. I would be faithful and as good as He has endowed..
WORDFULLNESS There are many events in the life of Jesus that speak to us in Parables and Miracles. We should note that while every one of those performed were acts of goodness and mercy, one stands out as a singular act of judgment. In that it has profound importance. It is interesting that when Jesus had many opportunities to condemn and destroy, and the power to do so, He would choose the failure, by interpretation, of us to use our gifts and be fruitful.
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As in the parable of the fig tree; the bearing of fruit preceded the development of foliage. This fact was known to everyone, yet the Lord in His hunger, lingered to make His point. Surely, in all of His power he could just make the fruit appear; yet He condemned it. In the challenge by Satan to turn stone into bread He did not. He never used His power to provide for himself, He depended upon others for His sustenance. He had one agenda, as with the woman at the well; He asked for drink and he gave forgiveness. The lesson here clearly is; How would it fare a man or nation when God comes looking for the fruits of righteousness, finds nothing but abundant leaves, boasting of fruitfulness, but empty of substance or promise. This is the malady of the ages. We characterize it as all show and no go an empty vessel, frustrating God with our plans for us, with hypocrisy. Dr. Herbert Lockyear, in his book Miracles, concludes; There are plenty of leaves of religious activities and performance, but so little of the fruit redounding to Gods glory. Failure to improve privilege entails removal of privilege itself. John 15, advises; If the branch fails to bear fruit it is taken away, Rev 2 The lamp which fails to shine is taken our of its place, Mat 7 Trees that do not bear fruit are hewn down and buried We are all given gifts to be used for his glory. Some of us will be trees or lamps or plantings yielding the bright or delicious; predictable in their purpose. The sin is; professing to be what we are not; to have yielded when we have not. Speak not of what we have done for God, lest we have done it, keeping even that in secret between ourselves and our maker, who already knows and has anticipated our fruitfulness.
OUR WALK Mathew, 14 , recounts ; Peter answered Him. Lord if it is you. Bid me to come to you on the water. He said; Come. Peter got out of the boat and walked toward Him on the water. But when he saw the wind, he was afraid and began to sink. He cried, Lord, save me. Jesus caught him, saying; Oh man of little faith, why did you doubt? More than once did the Lord calm the sea; as he has for all of us when we cry out. Our faith may be tested often, but we temper our requests with clichs like, Be careful what you ask for, or If the good Lord is willin and the creek dont rise. These idioms and others suggest we must weigh what we ask for; not simply as provision for the extraordinary, but as to our willingness to see things through to the end. We find ourselves being carried from one place to another by His grace, then having second thoughts about the risky ness of it all. We thought it would be fast and easy! Perhaps often we might not want God to be in charge for fear that we got the message wrong; Did He say come, come if you can, or come if you want to? Or that if doesnt work you still can swim out of it?
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In all, it is walking through the storm with the creek rising that allows us to know the full extent of Gods power and grace. It would be indeed foolish to venture forth without asking first, but even more so, to give up in the middle of His workings. Phil 4: 13, gives us license to step out; but there is a vast difference between those who proclaim I can do all things in Christ say, when you are building the temple of Babel, and the experience of Paul who found Gods heart there as he struggled in the storm of fatigue, hunger and persecution. He claimed victory, and bore witness to fulfillment. The temple and the city inhabitants were destroyed. Be careful of what you ask for may be Gods caution to us. Let His Spirit always be our interpreter who will set us straight and encourage us to remain steadfast until the end.
AN UP OR DOWN VOTE Time was, I shrank from what was right From fear of what was wrong; I would not brave the sacred light, Because the foe was strong. But now I cast that finer sense And softer shame aside; Such dread of sin was indolence, Such aim at heaven was pride. So when my savior calls, I rise And calmly do my best; Leaving to Him, with silent eyes Of hope and fear the rest. I step, I mount where he has led; Men count my haltings oerI know them; yet, though self I dread, I love His precept more. John Henry Newman As we know, Ethics is a study of right and wrong attitudes. Spiritually is our relationship with God, our fellow creatures, and with creation as a whole. Some would argue that we are born with the knowledge of right and wrong. As a parent, I wonder if there is evidence of that in a child. Does he instinctively know? My experience would say no. We learn it. We are not genetically disposed. Foundational is the command to glorify God; not just to stay out of jail, love our brother, or dont touch that! 1 Cor. 10:31 says ; Therefore whatever you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do it all to the glory of God. There is not communication or understanding of His laws without faith and adherence.
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Common sense, so often spoken as the yardstick for getting along in life, is a simple reflection of this. It is not a separate doctrine, but one of good and bad, smart and dumb, reward and punishment reduced to common terms; without crediting its origin. If we yield to the natural course of things in our conduct, we are traveling a long and rocky road. The book of proverbs was given to us to teach us right conduct; to think in terms of antithesis; In all labor there is profit, but idle chatter leads to poverty Matthew, challenges us to Enter by the narrow gate, for wide is the gate and broad is the way to destruction. Right and wrong are antithetic Failure to use His measure is anti-God.
A PRIMATE PUZZELMENT Imagine, if you will, the image of a crazy looking monkey with his finger in his mouth, in a humorous pose as a visual in this post. Is this some kind of example of dark humor, or could it be you contemplating your next dental appointment? Or could is just be one monkeys assessment (having no mirror) of the appearance of his fellow species. Actually this is another image I created for the wall of my new grandsons bedroom; one of a series to remind him of Gods creativity and great sense of humor. Think about it. Has there been anything that rivals His genius when He made the Aardvark, the Elephant, Hippopotamus, Giraffe, and on and on? Our concept of beauty is our own. Beauty cannot have long noses, big ears, huge bellies or toenails big as your fist; Horns? Why then did God create as he did? I wonder if it was to refuse to put beauty in a box, a pageant, or a commercial. but in perspective; His. Has you mother ever said Beauty is as Beauty does? and you say, yah whatever that means! My mom said it, and that was pretty much my unspoken reply. In His spirit, I would be optimistic that some day beauty will be measured by virtue of who we are in Christ and how we express it. When God made the mirror, He must have smiled at the quick way we began comparisons. He must frown also, as the mirror should be reflecting, in its own way, His Sons image. Lets not monkey with His vision.
EXPLAINING OUR GOD How do we explain God? Either He is first explained to us, or we try to explain Him to ourselves. Most of us find that, in various ways, someone has botched the job of making Him real to us; leaving the trials and rewards of our lives to become cases in point; some kind of proof- in- action. It is often a slow process for our understanding.
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If we are to do the work ourselves, we must, as in anything, start at the beginning. The word gives us Genesis which begins; In the beginning god created heaven and earth. Fair enough, but is it? Genesis begins to give credence to the unknown through poetic vision; the implications are so deep and far reaching that it seems miraculous that so much can be said in so few words; The earth was without form, and darkness was upon the face of the deep. Our minds are continually exposed to the constant flow of images; light, darkness, movement, color; the emergence of so many things that are now part of our daily experience as we go about living. There is argument as to the origin of all things that is proposed to have come about by other than the not so simple work of Gods hands. We may yield at certain moments when science tries to undermine Gods intelligence and design. We would be foolish if we did not listen to opposing argument, Can we otherwise find strength in ours? If the premise lies upon the initial issue of where did light come from, and we settle on the belief that it was created, the issue is then, by what or by whom. Once I settled on the belief that the creational process was true- then all things were possible. If by some way I could not take that first step; how could I trust the rest of it? As I close my eyes this very minute I can see the same workings in the emergence of so many things we cannot explain but they fit togethercreated to do and to be the predictable as planned. Deny the first sentence of the Word. and one cannot move an inch forward to the most important discovery of our lives.
WINDS OF FAVOR The common book of prayer offers; Who layeth the beams of His chambers in the water, and maketh the clouds His chariot, and walketh upon the wings of the wind. He may have been The wind beneath our wings, or He may have buffeted us from time to time that we may lean forward onto Him and be strengthened. My poem The Wind suggests that. When the blustery winds of this life have died down, And gently passed away; Bestowing bright futures promise, That grows stronger every day. I look to God the founder, And hasten yet to say; All trials and tempests frame us, And gird us stronger still. Our Fathers love commends us,
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As we surrender to His will Each day will have its sunsets, To introduce the dark. Each morn we put behind us We live to claim His heart. May the wind, though strong, be favorable all of your days
HIS HEALING HOLY FACE. It seems that most every day we hear of some disaster having struck a country: Seemingly, so widespread and so diverse as to have affected every culture, every age. There is no question that there has been selective response to the basic needs of the many thousands by churches and various groups. Never will there be complete answers to all the causes, or the mystery of where much of the funding goes; the people remain desperate, sick and dying. There is but one in control, and who can bring resolution. We must count on our prayers to bring lasting relief - HIS HEALING Blest is He who made the wine Then bled it full upon the cross. Our faith His risen breath defines; To fashion life, beholding loss Healer, giver, His Fathers sage, Promiser of heaven to every age, The Finder of souls so often lost; Brings love to bear decrying cost. His touch to eye or limb or brokenness, Brings blatant sinners to confess. How is it that we come to know, But for relentless pursuing so? We bow and wash you Holy feet. With tears of joy so mixed with grief. Nations sound their trumpets now With compassion-care of His endow. May your will be done in these poor lands. Find blessings full at your dear hands. Restore lost peace to all surviving face To carry full your lasting grace.
Let not your tortured sacrifice Fall swift to Satan cruel device.
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Striped bare we stand for that embrace, And hunger for your healing, holy face.
THE THIRD PARTY Father, Son and What? Living inside me? That was an early question for me- even as I viewed myself as a Christian. Why is it that we as believers can buy the supernatural as spoken in every part of the Bible; things like miracles of power and healing wrought by God and by Jesus? These things stretch our imagination; yet to conceive of a Third Deity, who takes up residence as the Word says in John 14 ; He shall give you another comforter, that He may abide in you forever? Everything from the birth and death of Christ happens outside ourselves and is done FOR us, much like watching a movie. Things are credible because we can see origination and completion with a full cast of visible characters. Some of you reading this will remember the Invisible Man series on the screen. It was entertaining, but we left the idea in the movie house. We believe that miracles do happen to others, but it is a leap to see them happening to us; until they do! We are assured that we cannot live the Christian life in our own strength, or our own goodness. We cannot determine our own destiny or purpose. What we can do then is look for The Spirit; but can we visualize this forever guest who lives and breathes our very future into eternity? Some say that it is mainly response though our gifts that He installed within us, others say that He is Gods voice pure and simple. In my own experience, I would say that it might never have been made clear if I relied upon miracles, or voices, or inspirations, or rebukes. It was based solely upon circumstances; happenings for which I had no explanation. The more that I treated them less as happy accidents- the more frequent they became: The more I could believe in the invisible man. Curiosities like Is it me or is it God began to trouble me. George Macdonald says; It is simply absurd to say you believe, or even want to believe, if you do not do anything He tells you. He says go there and I do, and He is already there. He says stop, and I do, and He provides a better alternative. He says rest at ease and it is easy. I have no idea how it works. I dont understand the process; but we are told that we dont have to understand electricity to use it. We simply have to switch it on.Let there be light no black wire, no red wire, no green wire. Reason is not the way by which we come to know God. We of simple faith may just call it a blessing.
WHAT WOULD JESUS DO? This question is often posed by those of us who would aspire to be more like Him. We may aspire to, and we may emulate some of His earthly traits of love, compassion, sacrifice. He has shown us the way, the path, the method as it has been interpreted and reasoned by others written or told.
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His life demonstrated, on the one hand, that He was like us; He had anger, impatience, fear, and other human traits; on the other, He was nothing like us in His authority as arbitrary as Gods, and His absolute mystery. Were we to be like that, we would be sacrilegious. There are times that if we took what He said or did, we would be confused by its obscurity. We so often must interpret (or have interpreted) what He meant. It is what He VALUED, in human terms that is our guide. It is strange to some that He preferred the company of the lonely, infirmed, and often despised, to that of the rich and famous. He depended upon His uneducated disciples to express what He meant. All of the time He lived under a death sentence; being fully aware of it and His mission. How many of these ways would we choose to be like Him? If we could go back in time of the actual Jesus; before He was turned over to the minds of the apostles, we would find that He was even more incomprehensible. I wonder if it isnt that we must believe more in what is meant through symbolism, than what appears on the literal surface. Does this call for a reasoning faith; what St. Anselm would call faith in a quest to know? Does this become an individual matter; to not always settle for the obvious, but to experience the joy of discovery of Truth for ourselves? Certainly, we must forever listen to the on-on-one revelations of the Holy Spirit; The Word within us. That requires little interpretation - Gods mouth to our ears.
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ADDING VISUALS TO YOUR BLOGS

A POST SCRIPT About halfway through my current blogs, or after the first one hundred, the feature of adding visuals was introduced. While it is difficult to fully estimate the effect of this on readership, I can say that it has been pretty major. Certainly the initial response builds more quickly, and this can be seen by the number of views and responses that are recorded before the posts go into archives. They may well double. My situation is a bit different because a number of my visuals come from my own paintings. That might add a level of comment and readership. Typically one would use the scanner on the printer to make PDF files of pictures that are saved for access and use. Many writers use a subject search on the internet for free, non-copyright, visuals and transfer them. The visuals produce interest in two ways; they serve as a springboard for what you want to say, and they must be relevant. The other would be to stimulate curiosity, through clever use of image, color or subject matter. I have not included my images here in the posts because of the difficulty of bringing color and separate content into a book form. I hope you will imagine a bit as I try to indicate what the picture is about or what it might be saying when it is a feature of the blog.
BIOGRAPHY
Milt Wear is a retired corporate executive who rekindled his interest in writing and art upon retirement. He is active as a painter/art instructor and a member of numerous writing groups, and lives in Portland, Oregon. He is a published author of Seeding Art in Holy Ground directed specifically toward artists who are seeking to develop and find venue for their work. His latest book Borne to Blog seeks to inspire writers to use this medium as a vehicle for developing and expressing their writing skills. All of his creative efforts carry the reminder of the scriptural directive; Neglect not the gift that is in you. He is convinced that this speaks to all of us, regardless of our current levels of talent or abilities. In that recognition lies our growth and purpose in life.
If you enjoyed this book please a comment on its page at: www.bibliotastic.com
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com Copyright 2011 Milt Wear

WHAT TO BE WHEN I GROW UP

SINS OF OUR FATHERS

BE YOURSELF, EVERYONE ELSE IS TAKEN

ADDING VISUALS TO YOUR BLOGS

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