...all nature sings

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 H. 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

Thinking tonight of evenings spent making music with folks who love it, too. Nights when we sat in a circle, and played and sang with, and for, each other. When 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.

...defying and defining

Praise the One who breaks the darkness with a liberating light;

praise the One who frees the prisoners, turning blindness into sight.

Praise the One who preached the Gospel, healing every dread disease,

calming storms, and feeding thousands with the very Bread of peace.

---Rusty Edwards, 1987

Under cover of darkness. They kept me in the dark about their true intentions. Mysterious as the dark side of the moon. Are you afraid of the dark? …these are a few of the things that come to mind when I think of darkness. How about you? Are there sayings, song lyrics, lines of poetry that stay with you when you think of darkness?

I’ll be adding the first line of this hymn to my darkness ‘quotable quotes’, because it is fab.u. lous. The image of ‘breaking the darkness’ immediately evokes daybreak and the break of dawn (and though I haven’t witnessed overly many daybreaks, I hear sunrise is glorious!). I can close my eyes and picture the dark, shattered by the inexorable, irresistible force of light, uncovering, revealing, illuminating. I imagine squinting against the sudden brightness, my skin soaking in the growing warmth.

And I can only begin to grasp what freedom there would be in light, if I had felt bound till the breaking by an endless night of dark. What that liberation must feel like, when the first hint of light glows on the horizon. It would be enough to send me to my knees in praise.

It was Anne Frank who said, “Look at how a single candle can both defy and define the darkness.”

Break the darkness, liberating Light, and not just for me…

...in the chaos, in the calm

Holy, holy, holy! though the darkness hide thee,

though the eye of sinful man thy glory may not see;

Only thou art holy; there is none beside thee,

Perfect in power, in love, and purity.

---Reginald Heber, 1826

It has been a little while (ahem) since I last studied child development, so this week I did a bit of refreshing on the concept of ‘object permanence’. The theory behind object permanence is this: once human comprehension develops to a certain level, we can grasp the idea that objects can exist, even when we cannot see them. I was imagining that the age for developing this sense might be a year to 18 months old, and was surprised to find that current research supports a range of three to eight months as the time frame for this understanding to emerge. Imagine how terrifying a game of peekaboo would be for a young child with no sense of object permanence --- when you cover up your face, you are actually gone!

Though we would all agree that God is not object, this hymn suggests that a sense of object permanence is necessary in visioning Godself, for us individually and as a people. At times both the shadows of this world --- hate, violence, disregard, presumption --- and the shadows of our own souls --- hurt, fear, envy, pain, disappointment --- keep us from laying eyes on the glory, the evidence, of God’s presence with us. None of those shadows, though, none of them, keep the reality of God’s presence from us.

As we, then, whatever our stage of human or divine development, seek a sense of communion with Holiness, may we remember: seen or unseen, hidden or revealed, speaking or silent, God is with us, close as breath, holy.

...prayer, with skin on

Will you leave yourself behind if I but call your name?

Will you care for cruel and kind and never be the same?

Will you risk the hostile stare should your life attract or scare?

Will you let Me answer prayer in you and you in Me?

--John L. Bell and Graham A Maule, 1987

What would be the impact on a life of ‘leaving self behind’? What transformations could happen from walking away from the mirror, and looking out the window, then walking out the door? How might old patterns be broken and rebuilt through new pathways of truly selfless service?

In this hymn full of questions, challenges arise. Two of the most challenging questions are set loose in this verse. Is the way we care for people affected by the demeanor of the needy? Can we care for both those to whom we are naturally drawn, and to those who may annoy, anger, or repulse us--showing the generous love of a God who loves us fully at our most unloveable? This question has me returning to take a look in that mirror I was talking about earlier.

Likewise, how prepared are we to be outcast for how fully, and how freely, we love? I have been challenged to see how very many times in the gospels that Jesus faced resistance and anger--not for restricting his circle of love, care, and acceptance; but for the times he drew his circle outlandishly wide. Are we ready to love so deep and wide that our lives send people (even people that look like ‘our people’) running for cover…and throwing stones?

And what if all of this turned out to be what prayer looks like, with skin on?

...believing in 'all'

Pardon for sin and a peace that endureth,

Thine own dear presence to cheer and to guide;

Strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow,

Blessings all mine, with ten thousand beside!

---Thomas O. Chisholm, 1923

The blessings of a life with God are many and varied, and this familiar hymn explores lots of them. One verse speaks of the blessings of nature --- the change of the seasons (although I am about done with this ‘all four seasons in just one week’ thing), the constellations in their utterly predictable paths, all of nature witnessing the attentions of a good God with imagination and aspiration.

I will admit to the next verse being my favorite, though, and it’s all about the third line --- “strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow.” God provides for us not only what we need to get through whatever presently troubles us --- worry, sorrow, fear --- but offers us a view of a tomorrow bright with hope. This seems to me the gift that keeps on giving.

All I have needed, Thy hand hath provided, indeed.

...love, with an accent

Lord, your church on earth is seeking your renewal from above;

teach us all the art of speaking with the accent of your love.

We would heed your great commission: “Go now into every place;

preach, baptize, fulfill my mission, serve with love and share my grace.”

---Hugh Sherlock, 1960

I am always interested in the decision of television directors and producers---mainly of news, documentary, and reality programming---to decide to use subtitles to “translate” the speech of characters or interview subjects with broken English or thick accents. I am continually amazed (and amused) by the great diversity of ways that we speak “American English”---cultural, regional, and even generational differences. Yes, generational---I sometimes think folk of a certain age might need subtitles to understand the everyday slang of teens and twenty-somethings, and I know for a fact that lots of the lingo of 'seasoned folk' go right over the heads of young whippersnappers out there! One of the most humorous choices, to a (mostly) southerner like me, is subtitles applied to a thick southern accent---how could anyone have trouble understanding that?!

I think what fascinates me is accent. People who specialize in training actors can sometimes isolate and identify accents not just by country or region, but by city, or even borough or neighborhood in the case of New York City. They can train actors to speak with the dialect of a certain location, a certain people group, a certain era.

Imagine with me what the sound might be of all of us speaking with love’s accent. What would our voices sound like? What words would fill our vocabularies? What tone, what timbre would govern our speech? How does love sound, translated into everyday language? Would the world recognize love’s accent on our tongues?

Would we need subtitles to translate love?

...let's make something!

The love of Jesus calls us in swiftly changing days,

To be God’s co-creators in new and wondrous ways;

That God with men and women may so transform the earth,

That love and peace and justice may give God’s kingdom birth.

---Herbert O'Driscoll, 1989

“Let’s make something!” These are the words, this is the invitation, that sets things in motion. At my son and soon-to-be-daughter-in-law’s home, you can bet the end result will be sweet, or savory, jewels and gems from the garden or kitchen. At my house, there might be music to be made, with everyone’s voice or instrument playing a part. In some homes, in some places in Alabama, quilts are being pieced. At your house there might be a puzzle to be put together, or a craft project, or an object d’art, a play to be staged, or a tale to be spun. At your place, goody bags for the weekend backpack program might be stuffed, or items for Christmas jail boxes might be gathered and shoeboxes might be wrapped. At our gathering, signs of encouragement, support, protest. 

In this hymn we are reminded that Jesus calls us to ‘make something’ together with God---to be co-creators of a new realm where love and justice and peace are the guiding lights. Wait. We…are co-creators…with THE Creator? How in the world is that supposed to work? What could you or I make that could stand alongside God’s work? What could we craft, of love, or justice, or peace, that would advance the household of the Prince of Peace? That, I think, is part of what makes the Good News good---our creation doesn’t have to stand up to God’s…it stands with God’s, as part of a beautiful whole, every person’s contribution to the creation of this new world consecrated by its dedication to our co-Creator.

Let’s make something! It will be glorious.

...don't make me go

Glorious now behold Him arise, King and God and sacrifice;

Alleluia, Alleluia, sounds through the earth and skies.

O star of wonder, star of night, star with royal beauty bright,

Westward leading, still proceeding, guide us to Thy perfect light.

--John Henry Hopkins, Jr., 1857

Christmas is a strange kind of baby shower for Christians. Even as we celebrate the birth of Jesus, with mirth and pure joy, we know that the week of Christ’s Passion is around the corner. We welcome the baby with the angels’ song echoing in our ears; but we know the rest of the story. We anticipate crying “Crucify!” with the crowd disappointed in the vision of a Savior who won’t destroy Roman rule. Just like the chore of putting away the Christmas decorations, we turn the corner between Christmas and Good Friday with reluctance.

This Epiphany hymn celebrates the gifts of the Magi: gold, a gift fit for a king; frankincense, an offering to a god; myrrh, an embalming spice foreshadowing Christ’s death at the hands of unchecked political and religious power.

Guide us to Your perfect Light.

...beckoning, urging

I want to walk as a child of the light; I want to follow Jesus.

God set the stars to give light to the world; the star of my life is Jesus.

In Him there is no darkness at all; the night and the day are both alike.

The Lamb is the light of the city of God: Shine in my heart, Lord Jesus.

---Kathleen Thomerson, 1966

In the total dark the smallest light stands out, bright as a beacon. There is no question, the source of the light, the direction from which it shines, how to aim to walk toward it. 

In the shining grey of dawn, that same small light is not so easy to pinpoint. Where it is shining, how big the light is, what it reflects off, even how to walk toward its source--none of this is as clear in a changed environment. Is the light shining down, out, up, around, over? 

Who knew light was so hard to put your finger on?

This text deals with the duality of light, peculiar to religious expression. In the faith view of Christianity, Jesus is a light out front of us, to guide us in the right path. This light guides both our belief and our everyday action, leading us to consider the quality of Jesus’ light to form our own quality of life.

But there is a second aspect to the light that is Jesus. That light exists not only outside of us, to guide, but dwells soul-deep to light our inner lives. Jesus lives and works in the world, but also lives and works in our hearts--both beckoning and urging. This light guides our steps, and illuminates our spirits.

I want to walk as a child of the light.

...remedy, not ruin

life is full, and frantic, and beautiful, and challenging--when, each moment, our lives become ever more imbued with the sacred; when, each moment, christ is reborn in us , fully human. this one wild, glorious life just may be, with its sacred holy days, our remedy rather than our ruin. #ibelieve #wildlife #onelife #love

...throwing open heaven's door

Good Christian friends, rejoice with heart and soul and voice!

Now ye hear of endless bliss: Jesus Christ was born for this.

He has opened heaven’s door, and we are blest forevermore.

Christ was born for this, Christ was born for this!

---Medieval Latin caril, 14th cent.

In their masterful score for the movie Frozen, the writing team of Robert Lopez and Kristen Anderson-Lopez penned a line that sticks in my head, and in my heart. The context was a blossoming romance, but the line applied to all kinds of interactions before the movie was finished. It is, simply, genius:

            Love is an open door.

If I ever talked with the Lopez duo, I believe I might ask them if they are fans of medieval Latin carols. I’d ask, because this carol, from as early as the 14^th century, really contains the message on the lips of so many little ones (and bigger ones) after Frozen became a world-wide sensation. In this carol, we hear the good news—Jesus was born to fling open heaven’s door. Jesus did it then, over two thousand years ago, and Jesus continues to do it today—throwing open heaven’s door, leaving it wide open (Jesus…were you born in a barn???)…almost as if just anyone could go walking in.

Like he was born for this, this kind of endless bliss. Like, like love is an open door.

...being enough

A confession? This time of year gives me an inferiority complex. I continually seem to come up short, run late, disappoint myself.

Advent beckons to me, to come away, to quiet myself, to slow my breathing, to wait in stillness for the world to turn upside down. And year after year, my already tumped-over world gets in the way of my good intentions. And year after year, my 'meant to's turn into 'should have's, and anticipation becomes regret.

Christmas beckons, with its glitter and sparkle, its jingle and laughter. And year after year, I run out of calendar on the way to making magic. Just-right gifts don't get bought, wrapping paper stays wrapped around the cardboard tube, carols remain unsung. What good is being a visionary, with these feet of clay?

I want to believe, though, that what I bring is enough. That this broke-down season, this cobbled together holiday, this Charlie Brown tree of a practice that is my attempt, despite my best intentions--that this offering is enough. Leonard Cohen wrote:
     Ring the bells that still can ring
     Forget your perfect offering
     There is a crack in everything
     That's how the light gets in.

Still trying. But I will be the one, bringing up the rear, toting my imperfect offering.
It's enough. Thanks be to God.

...fit our feet

     From the abundance of mercies of a tender God,
     the dawn we have yearned for will break at the horizon,
     to shed light on us who are turned around in darkness,
     weak with the fear that darkness brings,
     to fit our feet for the paths of peace.
               --Luke 1:78-79/para.laca.

When the world has you turned around. When your eyes strain to see for the shadows. When you need saving--from this life, from the hands of those who seek your harm, from the fear that keeps you bound to the same old ways that didn't work even when they were new, from the image that stares back at you in the mirror, from your own self in the silence. When you're out of ideas, and energy, and hope.

Then. Then, it might be time to fit your feet for paths of peace. Then, it might be time to walk in the ways of peace beside your Guide. Then, if might be time to doggedly pursue the peace that so often eludes you. Then, it might be time to rise up, and be a maker.

Peacemaker. Blessed are you...

...call for ya

Mary got an angelic visit with a life-changing message. Shepherds got a world premiere anthem from the sky with promises of peace (and quite possibly a light show). Wise, wise science guys from the East got sky charts that lined up just right.

<sigh> Things were so much clearer, back in Bible times...

Calling. Do you have one? Have you always? How did it come to you? Has it ever changed?

...what if you're wrong? 

One thing I am certain of: I always pictured myself, at 50-something, knowing. You know, knowing what the path was. What I should be doing. How I should be getting from A to B. What A and B even ARE. 

<facepalm> Things were so much clearer, back in Bible times...

And then I hear the voice of the prophet:
     "For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord,
     "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, 
      plans to give you hope and a future."
               --Jeremiah 29:11
And I realize, from this side of 50, that those "plans" that God has for me, the ones that give me "hope and a future"--maybe, just maybe, those plans are less about doing specific things at specific times, and more about living with my face turned toward the light, walking in hope. Maybe, just maybe, life is the sign I've been waiting for.

...not saying I'd turn down a chat with an angel, though...

...born of wisdom

A common topic of tweets, taunts, and challenges of late has been who is 'smarter', who is the 'wise guy', who knows what is really going on, how the world really works. Lots of talk about wisdom--is there any way to separate the talk from the truth?

Yesterday's blog post was on the concept of righteousness, and how (sometimes) misunderstood it is. In thinking about wisdom, I believe it is difficult to come to a meeting of the minds on what wisdom is, how it is noticed, and in what ways it manifests in the lives of those who are wise.

For some help, I turned initially to the wisdom literature of Hebrew scripture. The Proverbs speak a lot to the subject, and in a way that appeals to the cerebral aspects of my personality. "Self," I say, "what do you think about wisdom?" I could have found plenty to fuel my thoughts in the sometimes pithy, occasionally intellectual statements gathered in these sayings.

In the end, I found guidance on wisdom, how to know it when we experience it, from the little, practical epistle of James. It left me saying, "Well, obviously. Wisdom could not make its way in this world in any other way." See what you think:

     Who is wise and understanding among you?
     Show by your good life
     that your works are done 
     with gentleness born of wisdom.
               --James 3:13/NRSV

So. Are you counted among the wise in this world? If you are, you won't need to tell anyone. Your gentle life will speak with clarity about your wisdom and understanding. The way you live will leave no doubt. 

...righteous, dude

Righteous is a difficult concept in our supercool world. Being referred to as righteous might be right up there with holy, or pious...perhaps a step below goody-two-shoes, or even (*gasp*) community organizer.

When did it become so problematic to be called righteous? What IS righteous, anyway? The dictionary says that righteous is "morally right or justifiable" (which I would argue may be worlds apart), or "virtuous". Hmmm...somehow virtuous sounds a little better. As a working definition, I think Spike Lee's 1989 movie title, Do the Right Thing, will do.

Once we get past the problematic moniker, how does one go about, well, BEING righteous? Again, we'd get pretty far referring back to Spike Lee (*ahem*). Three passages of holy text always come to mind as I contemplate righteousness; I leave them here, some in paraphrase, for your consideration.

     What is it that holiness asks of me? Simply this--
     to pursue justice, 
     to act from compassion, 
     to walk the earth in humility, alongside my creator.
               --Micah 6:8/para. laca. 

     Is not this the kind of fasting I have chosen:
     to loose the chains of injustice
     and untie the cords of the yoke,
     to set the oppressed free
     and break every yoke?
     Is it not to share your food with the hungry
     and to provide the poor wanderer with shelter--
     when you see the naked, to clothe them,
     and not to turn away from your own flesh and blood?
     then your light will break forth like the dawn,
     and your healing will quickly appear;
     then your righteousness will go before you,
     and the glory of the Lord will be your rear guard.
               --Isaiah 58:6-8/NIV

     Jesus answered, "To love God with every part of your life,
     what shows and what only you know, 
     is the most vital element of a righteous life.
     Just as vital to righteousness is your love and regard
     for your neighbor and yourself,
     as dearly loved children of God's. 
     No law or prophecy contradicts these.
               --Matthew 22:37-40/para. laca.

In quietness and in confidence, let us reclaim righteousness as a virtue. This? This is a life I can get behind.

...leave no one behind

For the hanged and beaten.

For the shot, drowned, and burned.

For the tortured, tormented, and terrorized.

For those abandoned by the rule of law.

We will remember.

With hope because hopelessness is the enemy of justice.

With courage because peace requires bravery.

With persistence because justice is a constant struggle.

With faith because we shall overcome.

--The National Memorial for Peace and Justice

When I say, Life's not fair, I'm mostly kidding, at least when I'm talking about my own life. Little inconveniences, bad breaks, someone's bad choices (not always mine)--these comprise the extent of my life's unfair moments. So, were I to cry out for justice on my own behalf, it would mostly be a mockery, or misplaced, or a momentary self-pity.

But this I know, as surely as the other. If, because life is, on the whole, just for me, I should assume that justice is accomplished for all, and the time for striving after a just world is past, I am dead wrong with the sort of bull-headed wrongness driven in tight circles by ego, short-sightedness, and self-worship. If, because my life is fine, I decide that all lives are fine, I am only a mercenary and not a citizen, out to get the spoils of this life without regard for my sisters' and brothers' welfare.

Real justice leaves no one behind. Hope won't allow it. 

...all the time in the world

Is time the ultimate commodity in our too-busy, attention-starved, stretched-thin society? No? Then what would you give for another free hour per day, another free day in each week?

Okay...maybe so.

We even monetize the language we use around time.
We make time.
We take time.
We spend time, we waste it.
We save time, and invest it.
When we're in trouble, we buy time.
When we are slap out of luck, we run out of it.

When we're Cher, we wish to turn back time.
...who am I kidding?...when we're anyone, we wish to turn back time, every now and again.

Every appliance from the washing machine to the personal computer (to whatever is being dropped in its own IPO tomorrow) is marketed for the express purpose of saving time.

We are not so much slaves to the clock as we are slaves to the dream of mastering it. Is there a more hopeful thought than this--that there is enough time? There. is. enough. time.

Because there is One for whom time is measured differently. And we are embraced, for all time, by that One.
     A thousand ages in thy sight 
     are like an evening gone;
     short as the watch that ends the night
     before the rising sun.
                                      ---Isaac Watts

Go ahead, friend; take all the time you need. There's all the time in the world.

...filled full

A promise is the epitome of hope.

A promise is all potential-- freshman year, beginner's luck, pony legs, sloppy kisses. A promise, with all its good intentions, is riskily untested. Stepping out on a promise takes faith, is the stuff of faith, maybe. Trusting a promise is always a bit of a gamble, putting our eggs into a basket whose bottom we have yet to see.

What a comfort, then, to bear witness to a promise fulfilled! To tell the story, the way it happened in our own life. To breathe, and realize we'd been holding our breath for all of time, till now, till now. Heart overflows, eyes overflow with the realization that hope does not disappoint.

Promise fulfilled. Filled full of the good that is in store. Thanks be.

...a wish with feet

'Hope is the thing with feathers, that perches in the soul...' 
...opined Emily Dickinson, in her simply profound way.

Today, this day, I think, in fear and trembling, I may beg to differ. Today, this day, Advent begins, with armfuls of hope and heart swelled with song.

And after spending the day thinking about, talking about, sitting with hope, I think perhaps, that hope is a weightier thing than a flitting, flighty creature. I think, perhaps, that hope has heft, substance, mass. Hope is not the kind of thing you want to kick in the dark mid-night on the way to the bathroom; hope won't give.

The difference, this, between hope, and wish: hope is a wish with intention, with motion, with backbone. Hope is a wish with feet.

Hope is a wish with feet.