...present help for a changed earth

On this day four years ago, storms of fierce intensity ripped through Alabama, making it one of the largest outbreaks of super-tornadoes in state history. Indeed, the period of April 25-28 marked one of the most violent super-tornado outbreaks in recorded US history. On that day, the earth changed, very literally; but more than that, perhaps, peoples' psychic topography was forever altered. There was a seismic shift that day in the way many of us viewed security, permanence, and the future.

The question, then, becomes, 'Where do we turn when the earth changes?' Apparently circumstances may seem new, but questions are not, for the Psalmist looks up from the ruins of a changed earth and seeks what help may be found, a refuge and strength, a help, in a still-mysterious 'God'. We still may.

I am drawn and re-drawn to Psalm 46 when my earth changes. This post originally appeared on September 11, 2013.

God is our refuge and strength,
a very present help in trouble.
Therefore we will not fear,
though the earth should change...
     ---from Psalm 46

The world of Psalm 46 is fearsome --- full of natural disasters, the man-made disaster of war, and, most of all, 'change'. When has the earth changed for you? Was it tsunami, wildfire? The Gulf War Syndrome or traumatic brain injury that have followed our fighting men and women home from war? The day we remember today, when terrorists flew planes into the twin towers of the World Trade Towers? The day 50 years ago when cowards in Birmingham set off bombs that took the lives of four little girls, and dogs and fire-hoses were unleashed on the youth of the city? Or has your earth changed more privately? Beloved friend or family member wasting away with cancer? A child wandering away from you? A failure at work or in marriage?

Obviously, our belief in God didn't protect us from these disasters of circumstance, of nature, of hatred, of gaps in medical knowledge; nor were we protected from our questions about how these things happen to 'good' people in God's world.

In this 46th chapter of the Psalms, though, God is described as 'refuge', 'strength', 'help', 'presence', 'with us'. Right here, right now, amid our troubles, God is present with us. When the earth changes, God is with us. When the whole world seems to shake with the portent of evils now or yet to come, God is with us.

Be still; acknowledge God's presence. When we need to hide from the changes and be quiet, God is here --- refuge, strength, help. God is here with us.

...breathe on me

Breathe on me, Breath of God, fill me with life anew,

That I may love what Thou dost love,

And do what Thou wouldst do.

Breathe on me, Breath of God, until my heart is pure,

Until with Thee I will Thy will,

To do and to endure.

---Edwin Hatch, 1878

There is a holiness about a small child, snuggled under your chin, sleeping soundly. There is a deep, even, peaceful breathing that is like no other sound or sensation on this earth; and before you even realize it, you have fallen under its spell. Your breath pattern speeds or slows, shallows or deepens, and matches the child in your arms. In an elemental way, in that moment, you will what that child wills. A holy moment.

I wonder if perhaps hymnist Edwin Hatch had experienced such a high holy moment, whether he called it to remembrance as he penned these words. Imagine, if you can, matching your breath to the very breath of a living God. Breath that would enliven, empower, inspire, embolden. Breath that would draw you into communion with a God Who has been in love with you since the beginning of time, wanting nothing more than to breath in unison with you. Breath that would fill you like that. I could use some of that.

Breathe on me, Breath of God…

...wage peace

Through war-torn streets where hope is dead,

Fly bombs and anger ‘round our heads.

We raise the cry, “God hear our plea

And guide our feet in paths of peace.”

Through homes where love cannot to be found,

And violence spreads the fear around,

We raise the cry, “God hear our plea

And guide our feet in paths of peace.”

Through lands where food just will not grow,

And streams of water never flow,

We raise the cry, “God hear our plea

And guide our feet in paths of peace.”

Through minds where illness takes first place,

And wholeness longs for any space,

We raise the cry, “God hear our plea

And guide our feet in paths of peace.”

Through challenges of this our time,

Through rage, neglect, greed’s paradigm,

We raise the cry, “God hear our plea

And guide our feet in paths of peace.”

When things seem worst, we hear the song

Hope sings above the din of wrong:

The song of One who hears our plea.

Christ guides our feet in paths of peace.

---Leigh Anne Armstrong, 2005

tune: FERNDALE

By God's tender mercies,

dawn will break on high,

bringing light to us who sit in dark,

in the very shadow of death,

to brighten the way to the path of peace.

---Luke 1:78-79 (para. laca)

During my prayers and meditations this morning it passed through my mind that, though our individual and tribal agonies and tragedies seem freshly goring with each new wound, we have been hurting for a long time now. We have been needing peace, in our climate, in our world, in our homes, in our hearts and psyches, for so long. Most of the time we move through our days, numb to the violence around us, blind to the damage inflicted on our brothers and sisters by systems and power and pure plain meanness and evil. The world is engineered for numbness, for dulling the senses to the pain of others, even our own pain. 

And then sectarian and tribal violence turns into mass slaying of school children and college students. Or the pain of mental illness spills over into unspeakable tragedy on a massive scale. Or families have to take stock and rebuild love where it grows for their children. 

And through all of this, faint, is the song of hope. Not the kind of solid thing performed by a symphony orchestra with a festival chorus. More like the caught wisp of a melody, floating out of an open window on one of those rare, fine days when open windows might be acceptable in our part of the country. You might only catch a few notes, a rise and fall of phrase. But when you do. When you  do. It may just give you the courage to wage peace in this world, where all the violence seems continually new.

...cross, grave, sky

Soar we now where Christ has led, following our exalted Head;

Made like Him, like Him we rise; ours the cross, the grave, the skies.

Alleluia!

---Charles Wesley, 1739

Here we are at Easter, the simplest day of the year to follow Jesus! Soaring where Christ has led, rising like him…feels pretty wonderful, right? And we need a day like Easter, because the rest of the year is sure to follow. We are promised that if we follow Christ by owning the cross, and the grave, that we will also own the skies with him.

Made like You, to follow You, we turn with expectation toward a future that includes, the cross, the grave…and the skies. Alleluia!

...but Mary stood

Early on Sunday, before sunrise,
Mary of Magdala came to the tomb
and saw that the stone had been moved 
from the entry.
So she ran and told Simon and Jesus' beloved disciple,
"They have taken the Lord, and we do not know where."
They both set out toward the tomb.
While they ran together, the beloved outran Peter
and arrived at the entrance first.
He bent over and peered in, 
seeing the grave clothes lying empty,
but stood by.
Here came Simon, following, 
straight into the tomb. 
He saw the grave clothes, too, 
and the head cloth to itself.
Then the beloved disciple, 
who had been there longer,
also entered, and he saw and believed
(for they did not yet understand the scripture, 
that Jesus must rise from dead).
Then the disciples returned to their homes.
But Mary stood weeping there.
---John 20:1-11 (para. laca)

There is Mary. Maybe as a last act of devotion. Maybe seeking solace at the tomb. Maybe unbelieving at the events of the last days. Maybe because she has literally no place else to go. What to do, when you have staked your future on one man, his dream of a reign of peace and freedom and mutual respect and love, his promise of a life eternal --- and his own is stripped from him so quickly and brutally? Where else do you go?

Mary went to the tomb. And the world tilted a little on its axis. Even the dead body of the good man she had loved was gone, stolen by common bandits. That was the only explanation. Yes, something tickled at the farthest, darkest corner of memory, but...no, it was gone...third day...the grief must be getting to her. Peter and the one Jesus had loved most would need to know, must know. They could say what to do. She had gone to the tomb.

They had gone home. To wait? For what? To return to their lives? To pick up the pieces, after 'fishing for people' hadn't worked out the way they had hoped and dreamed? Had it only been a week since the chanting, palm-waving crowds had hailed Jesus on the way into Jerusalem, welcoming him in as the coming King? Had they not felt the reflected glory of the welcome, secretly thrilled at the thought of assuming seats of power in the righteous administration? What had it been that has turned the tide? Surely not just Judas; none had assumed he had the power to sway public opinion. What had been the strategic error that had made things go so horribly awry? Where else do you go?

Mary knew where to find them. They were home. When they heard the news, they took off, disbelieving this hysterical woman, but gut reactions telling a story closer to her truth. Peter, the bull in the china shop, a force of nature. The beloved, more cautious, but still entering the dark cool of the rock cave. Seeing. Believing.

Believing. But what? It's pretty clear their belief wasn't in any resurrection --- we are told they didn't yet understand scripture concerning this. They believed Mary's testimony here, the first of her two testimonies from the tomb, that Jesus' body was gone. A final indignity to pile on top of the shame and blinding disappointments of the past 72 hours. Just. Gone. 

So they. went. home.

But Mary. Maybe she's got nothing to lose. But Mary stays weeping there.

And, oh. my. God. Rabouni. 

Mary stayed. And the world's story changed.

...rip down the curtains

When it was midday, dark overtook the land for hours.
At the next watch, Jesus cried out,
"My God, 
have even 
you
forsaken me?"
Then with a loud breath,
Jesus breathed his last.
And the curtain of the temple, 
the one dividing the Holy of Holies,
was ripped apart,
top to bottom.
---Mark 15:33-38 (para. laca)

The veil of the Temple was man's best effort to keep God and people separate from each other. It protected the Holy of Holies, the Ark of the Covenant, the supposed residing place of God's spirit, from contact with any of God's people, save for one priest, one day per year. God was, almost literally, kept in a box, behind a curtain, too holy and remote to be involved in the lives of God's people.

On God's Friday, with Jesus' submission to the powers that called for his death, that veil was torn in two from top to bottom, not  as if by human hands. Jesus, then, was God's best hope for tearing down forever the barrier between God's realm and ours, between God's existence and ours, between God's heart and ours. Jesus' 3:00 Friday was God once and for all refusing to be contained by human hands, or by boundaries human minds create.

It was time to rip down the curtains.

...for my sake

My song is love unknown, my Savior's love to me,
love to the loveless shown that they might lovely be.
O who am I that for my sake my Lord 
should take frail flesh, 
and die?
---Samuel Crossman, 1664

How overwhelming, that God stepped into the same skin that we walk around in, knew the risks, took on the aches and pains, shouldered the heartbreaks.

Chose this life. This death.

Chose not to walk away.

For my sake.

...stay with me

Go to dark Gethsemane, you who feel the tempter's power;
your Redeemer's conflict see; watch with Him one bitter hour;
turn not from His griefs away; learn of Jesus Christ to pray.
--- James Montgomery, 1822

They went to a place, a garden, Gethsemane; 
and Jesus said to his friends, 
"I need you. Stay here with me while I pray."
He took some of those dearest to him, 
and his distress and heartache became evident.
He said to these beloved,
"My heart is breaking; how can I go on?
draw close, abide, with me, sit up a while with me now."
---Mark 14:32-34 (para. laca)

Stay. Just stay here with me. While I wrestle with my destiny. While I stare into what looks an awful lot like an abyss. While I question this whole crazy ride we've been on together the past few years. While I wonder if the voice I heard was the voice of God, or just some voice in my head, telling me things I wanted to, needed to hear. While I decide whether to walk away from the whole deal. Whether to blend into the Passover crowd, wander back to the Galilee, pick up a hammer and nail, and become just another dusty craftsman, like my father before me. Let the idea of some beckoning Father fade away into distant memory, let someone else save the world.

God. What am I supposed to do now?

Friends, stay with me.

...with rare perfume

A prophet-woman broke a jar, by Love's divine appointing.
With rare perfume she filled the room,
presiding and anointing.
A prophet-woman broke a jar, the sneers of scorn defying.
With rare perfume she filled the room,
preparing Christ for dying.

The Spirit knows; the Spirit calls, by Love's divine ordaining,
the friends we need, to serve and lead,
their powers and gifts unchaining.
The Spirit knows; the Spirit calls,
from women, men, and children,
the friends we need, to serve and lead.
Rejoice, and make them welcome!
---Brian Wren, 1991

In that day, says the Lord, I will pour out my spirit on all people;
your sons and your daughters shall prophesy;
the old among you will dream dreams,
and the young in your midst shall see visions.
On people of every station in life, women and men, 
in those days I will pour out my spirit.
---Joel 2:28-29 (para. laca)

...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.

...the lips of children

All glory, laud, and honor to Thee, Redeemer, King,

To whom the lips of children made sweet hosannas ring.

Thou didst accept their praises --- accept the praise we bring,

Who in all good delightest, Thou good and gracious King!

---Theodulph of Orleans, ca. 821

Count on a kid to tell it like it is. Maybe this is the reason for the old adage, “Children should be seen and not heard.” Over the course of our lives we develop the ability to filter our thoughts before they become words. We also sometimes lose the child’s ability to see things as they are, without expectation or preconception. Kids? They see it like it is, and say it like it is.

In today’s text, hosannas stream from the lips of children. They were onto Jesus, and seemed attracted to him without reservation. They saw what they saw, and liked it, and joyously praised Jesus. May we today be like children…no filters, no prejudices, no reservations about praising our redeemer, Jesus Christ.

Let at least one of those hosannas be mine, Lord.

...for all the days we have

We praise all we know of you!
We praise you in holy places we have made for worship.
and in holy places you alone could have dreamt into existence!
We praise you for what you have done,
we praise you for the essence of who you are!
We search for ways to praise you ---
with horns,
with strings,
with drums and shakers,
with pipes,
with bells,
with crashing cymbals,
with the dance!
We, all of us who take our breath,
from the first day you give us till our last,
we praise you!
We praise all we know of you,
in all the ways we know, 
for all the days we have!
---Psalm 150 (para. laca)

...in the face of this cold

Praise to you from the beloved community,

rising to you from your own!

For you do what is needed 

for us to dwell secure,

for our community to continue 

after our own time is done.

You grant freedom from anxiety

and freedom from need, 

filling the fields with lovely wheat.

You let your word be known,

like swift-flowing water.

The snow you send is like a 

fine wool blanket,

the frost like ash,

the hail like crumbs---

how are we to stand 

in the face of this cold?

But your word, that swift word,

is sent from you,

and melts them away in an instant;

you breathe the gentle wind into being,

and the frozen waters flow again.

You make your word known to your people,

in a relationship shared by none other.

Praise to you from your own!

---Psalm 147:12-20 (para. laca)

...open-eyed awe

My song rises from a thankful place;
a song accompanied on strings.
You cover the sky with clouds,
they grow heavy with rain 
you intend for the thirsty earth,
for the new grass reaching skyward 
on the hill.
This is the cycle you spun out of 
creative vitality
to provide the animals with their food, 
the young birds with what they need.
You take delight,
but not in the strength of power,
like a mighty stallion;
you take pleasure, 
but not in the feat of speed,
like a lithe runner;
your deep joy is in those 
who approach you with 
the open-eyed awe of children,
who put their hope in the 
steadfastness of 
your love.
---Psalm 147:7-11 (para. laca)

...full of grace

I lift your name,
you who will not be named.
It is good to let praise rise to you;
for you are full of grace,
and a graceful song is fitting.
You build up your beloved community;
you gather us, outcasts all.
You heal the broken hearts,
you bind up the torn places.
You number the stars,
you name them.
You are great in mystery,
abundant in strength,
measureless in understanding.
As you cast the wicked mighty to the ground,
you lift up the lowly downtrodden.
I lift your name,
you who will not be named.
---Psalm 147:1-6 (para. laca)

...thanks be, blessing be.

The earth hums with frequencies
of deep joy before you!
I join the eternal procession of all
echoing the gladness of abiding 
in your presence.
I have known on my very soul 
that you are God.
You have made me for you,
and you shepherd me.
I draw near to you garbed in gratitude,
close to you perfumed with praise.
Thanks be,
blessing be.
For you are the heart of goodness;
the steadfastness of your love 
began before, and lasts into forever;
the steadiness of your faithful attention
is for generations long gone and yet to come.
Thanks be,
blessing be.
---Psalm 100 (para. laca)

...an acceptable time

As for me, Mystery, 

I lift my prayer to you.

At an acceptable time,

when your steadfast love 

overflows its bounds,

answer,

for I call out and the silence is deafening.

At an acceptable time, 

when your faithful help

flourishes like wheat,

rescue me,

for I am sinking and the waters are deep.

At an acceptable time,

when your pity

churns like the tide,

save ---

from flood, 

or deep, 

or Pit.

At an acceptable time,

answer, 

you whose goodness

is defined and demonstrated

by steadfast love;

turn to me,

show me the fullness of your mercy.

Let me look into your face, and

look into mine;

I am falling --- how long

shall I wait for you?

Draw near,

pay the price for me,

at an acceptable time.

---Psalm 69:13-18 (para. laca)

...bright hope for tomorrow

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 (can I get an Amen for the beautiful weather lately?), 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.

...etched on their hearts

The days come, they come,
says the Lord,
when I will make a new covenant
with my beloved in Israel
and in Judah.
It won't be like the covenant of old,
when I led the children by the hand 
up out of their bondage in Egypt---
a covenant broken, 
even though I stood as head of household 
for them, strong and caring, says the Lord.
But this is the new covenant I will make 
with my beloved people after those days,
the Lord says: 
my law will be an inner guide,
etched on their hearts
as surely as if on stone;
I will be their own, 
and they will be mine.
The need for second-hand knowledge of me
will pass away;
"Know God" won't have to be spoken,
for my people will know,
from least to greatest in the land,
says the Lord;
for I forgive the shortcomings
of my beloved people,
and cede my right to remember their wrongs
from now till forever.
---Jeremiah 31:31-34 (para. laca)

...the good of the crossroads

My prayer for the holy city:
"May the lives of all who love you
be enriched in the very act of loving.
Peace fill the spaces between your walls,
pervasive safety make watchtowers obsolete."
For the sake of love,
for my beloved ones, I gladly say,
"Let peace reign!"
For the sake of the abiding place 
of Mystery, the heart of love,
I will seek the good of the crossroads.
---Psalm 122:6-9 (para. laca)

Jerusalem is an important city, and has been for thousands of years. The meeting place of three major world religions, and too often their boiling point. Open the newspaper (or, more likely, your home page) and, chances are, it won't be hard to find a headline concerning unrest in the Holy Land. Ironically enough, as holy days approach, the tensions ramp up, religious fervor fueling the fires of suspicion and hatred.

Open the Scriptures, and you see the same stories, Beta version. Jerusalem, the city with peace (salem) in the name, but none in the streets. Religious strife, political machinations, tribal feuding all kept Jerusalem from experiencing shalom, the 'wholeness that leads to life' that we translate peace.

And we should pray for peace in this holy place, pour out our hearts for peace. And we should add feet to our prayers, acting in ways that promote peace in this part of the world where it is possible for us.

But the world is a kind of Jerusalem. Through global travel, internet, and media of all kinds, our world has shrunk considerably, and our global village is just that. And our Jerusalem is an incredibly diverse place, with innumerable divisions of race, clan, faith, gender, politics, and economics. And those divisions cause distrust, and inequity, and violence, and hoarding. And fear, which may be the long, ugly taproot of them all.

Our Jerusalem is this world at the crossroads. And we are all in the crosshairs. We can be destroyed by the fear we foment. Or we can be enriched by the very act of loving. This is peace.

Seek the good of the crossroads.

Enjoy a beautiful sung prayer for peace by a talented woman I am privileged to know, Amanda Powell:
https://youtu.be/VX9L3zfZ_dc