,,,the wind changes everything

Wind who makes all winds that blow ---gusts that bend the saplings low,

gales that heave the sea in waves, stirrings in the mind’s deep caves ---

aim your breath with steady power on your church, this day, this hour.

Raise, renew the life we’ve lost, Spirit God of Pentecost.

---Thomas Troeger, 1983

It was one of those days. The kind when you slap bugs crawling up and down your back, and find it’s sweat pouring down your spine. When your gaze across the blacktop of the supermart parking lot is crazed and zagged by waves of rising heat. When the silence is so thick your ears ring with it. When you walk bowlegged, just to keep your thighs from rubbing together where they are chafed, from rubbing together on days just like this. Five days, ten. All of them. It has been this hot, this humid, this still, for. ev. er.

You have work to do. The heat, the stillness won’t stop you, won’t keep you from working with skill, with dedication, with honor. Won’t cause you to throw up your hands, throw in the towel, throw up the white flag of surrender. You believe in the work you do, feel called to it, even. Leaving it undone, or half-done, feels as wrong as planting without mulch to protect from the harsh sun. Beside all that, you are no quitter, are you?

So you keep on.

But, playing with your sweaty curls, ruffling the hem of your red-dusted work shirt, sending pecan leaves trembling is a freshening, a breeze. You raise your eyes to the horizon, edge of disbelieving…but there it is, again. You are still, almost afraid to move for fear the wind will disappear. But you do. And it doesn’t.

And that wind. It renews. It envigorates. It restores the joy to the work you were doing. It colors your shades of grey world, reminds you how good, how life-giving, your labor was. Is.

The wind? It changes everything.

...one epic jam

The earth is God’s flute, God’s cello and chime,

the wind draws the notes. The seasons keep time.

At dusk and at night, from the sunrise past noon

God’s playing and singing a ravishing tune.

---Thomas Troeger, 1985

Thou rushing wind that art so strong, ye clouds that sail in heaven along,

Thou rising morn, in praise rejoice; ye lights of evening, find a voice.

Thou flowing water, pure and clear, make music for thy Lord to hear;

Thou fire so masterful and bright, that givest us both warmth and light.

Alleluia!

---Francis of Assisi, 1225

I spent this evening making music with some of the greatest guys I know. We sat in a circle, and played and sang with, and for, each other. We learned, and taught, suggested, improved, polished, sat back and enjoyed. Some of my favorite times are those I spend sitting with people who love songs like I do, making them come alive.

I spend a good bit of my free time with music. Listening to music, singing, playing, writing music---marrying text with tune to find the just-right expression that transcends both. The first hymn text above, from Thomas Troeger, asks us to imagine Creator God, sitting in a circle with all of creation, making sacred sound that becomes more beautiful as more, and more diverse, elements are added to its harmonies. Imagine sitting in that singing circle! After living with the charming Troeger text, my mind was drawn, repeatedly, back across centuries to the words of celebration and praise left us by Francis of Assisi. He so connected with Creator God through God’s creation; this text is praise to the Creator and thanksgiving for the music of creation.

Grab a drum or guitar, or warm up your pipes…God is gathering all creation for a music circle! Let’s not be late…I hear it will be epic.

...and now we wait

Match the present to the promise, Christ will come again.

Make this hope your guiding premise, Christ will come again.

Pattern all your calculating and the world you are creating

to the advent you are waiting: Christ will come again.

---Thomas H. Troeger, 1985

Wait. WAIT! Wait. There are so many different ways to say one simple word, so many colors and nuances to it. We wait --- in line. on hold. for that check in the mail. till hell freezes over. for that second chance, and the break that will make it ok. to be older. to be old enough. for time to heal all wounds (or wound all heels). till your father gets home.

And even Tom Petty knows, the waiting is the hardest part. All that standing still, and not doing anything, all the stasis and buzz of inactivity. All of the un-. So this Advent –time of waiting can seem pretty…well, pretty un-. Sitting around waiting for…for…God knows what, really. A baby born in a manger? A king, arriving all stealthy and incognito and un-kinglike? A household of God’s own making, realized in Heaven but reachable on earth? The Kingdom come?

But what if there is another way to wait? What if waiting on God’s household to come is the most active thing we can do? What if this waiting is full of dreaming, and planning, and co-creating along with the God who never really stopped in the first place? What if we play a part in ushering in that kingdom characterized by hope, peace, joy, love? What if this Advent waiting is anything but un-?

Come, Lord Jesus. We wait on you.

...the day after the parade

When day dimmed down to deepening dark

the crowd began to fade

till only trampled leaves and bark

were left from the parade.

Lest we be fooled because our hearts

have surged with passing praise,

remind us, God, as this week starts, 

where Christ has fixed his gaze.

---Thomas Troeger, 1985

Holy Week. What a whiplash-inducing, last set at Wimbledon high-speed volley it is. In the span of 5 days all the people of Jerusalem, it seems, go from hailing Jesus as their new king, triumphant in the Davidic tradition, to loudly demanding his death, blood be on them and their children. 

What?

And, #spoileralert, three days later crazy stories start spreading that soon set little pockets of the world on fire. Because you can't keep this Good Man down. All that hate in the world, mixed into a toxic cocktail with all that power, and Love is still stronger. 

Told you it was crazy.

But today. Today, it's the day after the parade has passed. and what's left is some palm fronds sitting in a box in the choir room, and a few stray green leaves down the center aisle, and echoes of a celebrating crowd. 

And a lonely man, with decisions to make --- about power, and obedience, and sacrifice. A man at the crossroads, with his eye on a cross.

...what's in a name?

"This child shall be Emmanuel, not God upon the throne,
but God with us, Emmanuel, as close as blood and bone."
The tiny form in Joseph's palms confirmed what he had heard,
and from his heart rose hymns and psalms for heaven's human word.
---Thomas Troeger, 1985

Throughout the history of God's called-out people, divine love has been claimed, and spoken, and worked in intervening acts. God has made love known for a precious nation in a thousand large and small ways, noticed and unnoticed. God has broken into history in mighty and powerful ways, rescuing and restoring God's people time and time again.

And time and time again the love of God fades into the distant memory of the beloved people.

So God takes on a new name, and this name changes everything. Because as much as I love words, they only go so far. Because the most logical prose, the most moving poetry, the best-ever 140-character zingers have their limits. Because being there, in the flesh, means more.

Emmanuel, God's new name, is 'God with us'. Because when love words don't break through, sometimes you show up in person.

Thank God.

...hope past hope's believing

View the present through the promise, Christ will come again.
Trust despite the deepening darkness, Christ will come again.
Lift the world above its grieving through your watching and believing
in the hope past hope's believing; Christ will come again.
---Thomas Troeger, 1985

We wait and watch here, in the darkness of the 'before' time. We shake our heads at the state of this world. We whisper, we cry, we shout, we pray, "How long?" How long now till things are made right? How long till good is rewarded, and evil is punished? How long until the weak are protected from harm? Till justice rolls down like mighty waters?

Lord, how long? We wait and watch. For it to happen. For us. To us.

In this relatively new text by hymnist Thomas Troeger, our waiting and watching is no passive thing. To a world grieving starvation, disease, wanton violence, stony disregard for the suffering of others; to this world, hope comes with power to rescue. Our hoping, our believing has a presence to lift this world. Because our hope is in a transformative Christ, who grieves this world with us, who comes to set things right. To feed the hungry, to heal the sick, to break the sword.

And most of all? To fill the hearts of humanity with the desire to do the same. Could it happen? Hope past hope's believing. I believe.