Whoa - ten years have passed. So much water under the bridge that there's been a sea change. Lots of trial, tribulation, rough sailing. Divorce, bankruptcy, career reset, cancer, recovery from cancer. And, some wonderful things. Five beautiful grandchildren. Answered prayers. Finally, a soul mate.
In the midst of all of it, there were times when I couldn't think, or write. I didn't have any thoughts worth sharing. Still not back to where I used to be. Maybe I never will be: I can't turn back the clock, and I have scars from some of the fights I've had. Many, many people have had a worse time - my road has been rough and rocky, but not impassable.
At this age, with all that has happened, I think the advice of St. Paul applies - to focus not on what is behind, but on the prize - the finish line. After all, Lot's wife was turned into a pillar of salt - Why? Because she looked behind at what she was leaving.
Pray for me, please.
Peace,
Miserable Offender
Friday, December 2, 2016
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
Parachutes
Today's issue of The Writer's Almanac, Garrison Keillor's daily review of poetry, includes a nice poem by William Stafford. Since today is also Mr. Stafford's birthday, Garrison reflects on his life and work, and concludes with this:
"About his own works, Stafford once commented, "I have woven a parachute out of everything broken.""
I wish I had thought of that. Seems like there's a lot of broken stuff in and around my life. Maybe one way to look at it is Stafford's way: If we can salvage the flotsam and jetsam of our lives, and somehow put it back together, we can make parachutes. Otherwise, as time goes by, broken things start to pile up all around us. It starts with a Camaro out back, then it's the dishwasher, somebody breaks a window in our basement, then it's a relationship, next it's our pancreas, and then the foundation of our house - and before we know it, it looks like "Everything is Broken":
Broken lines, broken strings,
Broken threads, broken springs,
Broken idols, broken heads,
People sleeping in broken beds.
Ain't no use jiving
Ain't no use joking
Everything is broken.
Broken bottles, broken plates,
Broken switches, broken gates,
Broken dishes, broken parts,
Streets are filled with broken hearts.
Broken words never meant to be spoken,
Everything is broken.
Seem like every time you stop and turn around
Something else just hit the ground
Broken cutters, broken saws,
Broken buckles, broken laws,
Broken bodies, broken bones,
Broken voices on broken phones.
Take a deep breath, feel like you're chokin',
Everything is broken.
Every time you leave and go off someplace
Things fall to pieces in my face
Broken hands on broken ploughs,
Broken treaties, broken vows,
Broken pipes, broken tools,
People bending broken rules.
Hound dog howling, bull frog croaking,
Everything is broken.
(Copyright © 1989 Special Rider Music - Bob Dylan)
My pal M. keeps saying that she gives thanks for all the broken stuff in her life - all the hardships, all the disappointments, all the crap. I guess what she's saying is that when the time comes, she's going to have the coolest parachute...
(P.S. You can visit The Writer's Almanac by clicking on the links on this page. Stafford's entry is from the Wednesday, January 17th edition)
"About his own works, Stafford once commented, "I have woven a parachute out of everything broken.""
I wish I had thought of that. Seems like there's a lot of broken stuff in and around my life. Maybe one way to look at it is Stafford's way: If we can salvage the flotsam and jetsam of our lives, and somehow put it back together, we can make parachutes. Otherwise, as time goes by, broken things start to pile up all around us. It starts with a Camaro out back, then it's the dishwasher, somebody breaks a window in our basement, then it's a relationship, next it's our pancreas, and then the foundation of our house - and before we know it, it looks like "Everything is Broken":
Broken lines, broken strings,
Broken threads, broken springs,
Broken idols, broken heads,
People sleeping in broken beds.
Ain't no use jiving
Ain't no use joking
Everything is broken.
Broken bottles, broken plates,
Broken switches, broken gates,
Broken dishes, broken parts,
Streets are filled with broken hearts.
Broken words never meant to be spoken,
Everything is broken.
Seem like every time you stop and turn around
Something else just hit the ground
Broken cutters, broken saws,
Broken buckles, broken laws,
Broken bodies, broken bones,
Broken voices on broken phones.
Take a deep breath, feel like you're chokin',
Everything is broken.
Every time you leave and go off someplace
Things fall to pieces in my face
Broken hands on broken ploughs,
Broken treaties, broken vows,
Broken pipes, broken tools,
People bending broken rules.
Hound dog howling, bull frog croaking,
Everything is broken.
(Copyright © 1989 Special Rider Music - Bob Dylan)
My pal M. keeps saying that she gives thanks for all the broken stuff in her life - all the hardships, all the disappointments, all the crap. I guess what she's saying is that when the time comes, she's going to have the coolest parachute...
(P.S. You can visit The Writer's Almanac by clicking on the links on this page. Stafford's entry is from the Wednesday, January 17th edition)
Sunday, January 14, 2007
Agnus Dei
I've heard several lessons, sermons, and stories about the great Old Testament story of Abraham and Isaac; how God told Abraham to take Isaac to Mount Moriah and offer him as a sacrifice. Gruesome as it may seem, Abraham did what God told him to do - he gathered some wood for the burnt offering, packed a knife, and off he went. The trip was 50 or 60 miles to Mount Moriah; Abraham and Isaac took along two helpers for most of the way. On the third day of the journey, however, Abraham told the two helpers to hold up, took the wood and gave it to Isaac to carry, and the two of them went the rest of the way by themselves. Isaac, wondering, asked about the obvious omission: We've got wood for a burnt offering, but where is the lamb? Abraham answered, "God will provide for himself a lamb..."
It's a bit of a cliffhanger from there - Abraham and Isaac arrive at Mount Moriah, Abraham builds an altar, stacks the wood on top, and binds Isaac on top of the wood. Then he takes the knife, and just as he is about to plunge it into his son's body, an angel calls out to Abraham to stop. Looking up, Abraham spots a ram caught in a thicket, and untying Isaac, replaces him with the ram for the sacrifice.
Fr. William Wilson made a wonderful point about this story that I had never thought of before. Abraham told Isaac that "God will provide for himself a lamb...", however, it wasn't a lamb that was sacrificed - it was a ram. Fr. Wilson asks, "So, when does God provide a lamb for sacrifice?" The answer: way over in the New Testament, just after John the Baptist is introduced as the voice of one crying in the wilderness. John sees Jesus coming toward him and announces: "Behold, The Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world!"
And so, because of this, everything changed, in such a profound way that I still don't get it half the time. Prior to John's announcement about Jesus being the lamb of God, rabbis must have told their flock that they, too, had to be prepared to make sacrifices just like Abraham - he had set the example of willingness and submission by offering his most precious possession to God as a sacrifice. After the true Lamb was sacrificed, there was no more reason to think that way. All our missteps, our falling short, our stubbornness, our intransigence (Sinatra - "I did it my way"), our addiction, our hatred, our anger, lust, greed, and pride, our selfishness, our envy - every single sin - all this was taken into account, paid for, worked through, understood, and taken away from us. No more sacrifices are required by you and me - as a matter of fact, (and this is important) it would be presumptuous of us to think that we could offer some sacrifice in addition to the one offered for us, on the cross, on Good Friday.
I have learned that this is old hat to a lot of my friends, who get pretty bored with my amazement, and marvel that I took so long to "get it". Looking around, however, I don't think that I'm in the minority - Christians are still trying every which way to do something that will impress God, to make some sacrifice, to bear their own pitiful cross like a martyr, as so forth. Been there, done that, got the t-shirt. Truth be known, I still wear that t-shirt underneath my shirt, where none of my friends can see it.
There is a Derek Webb song which speaks to this - Derek is a singer/songwriter, and has written a powerful song entitled "I Repent", which contains these lines:
"I repent,
I repent,
Of paying for what I get for free."
It's a great song, by a compelling artist. But it's not as good as this little song, called Agnus Dei, which is part of the liturgy:
"O Lamb of God, that takest away the sins of the world, have mercy upon us.
O Lamb of God, that takest away the sins of the world, have mercy upon us.
O Lamb of God, that takest away the sins of the world, grant us thy peace."
Perhaps if it's peace that I want, I'm going to have to give up some things I've been carrying around - like the wood for the burnt offering - and quit paying for what was given to me - and you - for free.
It's a bit of a cliffhanger from there - Abraham and Isaac arrive at Mount Moriah, Abraham builds an altar, stacks the wood on top, and binds Isaac on top of the wood. Then he takes the knife, and just as he is about to plunge it into his son's body, an angel calls out to Abraham to stop. Looking up, Abraham spots a ram caught in a thicket, and untying Isaac, replaces him with the ram for the sacrifice.
Fr. William Wilson made a wonderful point about this story that I had never thought of before. Abraham told Isaac that "God will provide for himself a lamb...", however, it wasn't a lamb that was sacrificed - it was a ram. Fr. Wilson asks, "So, when does God provide a lamb for sacrifice?" The answer: way over in the New Testament, just after John the Baptist is introduced as the voice of one crying in the wilderness. John sees Jesus coming toward him and announces: "Behold, The Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world!"
And so, because of this, everything changed, in such a profound way that I still don't get it half the time. Prior to John's announcement about Jesus being the lamb of God, rabbis must have told their flock that they, too, had to be prepared to make sacrifices just like Abraham - he had set the example of willingness and submission by offering his most precious possession to God as a sacrifice. After the true Lamb was sacrificed, there was no more reason to think that way. All our missteps, our falling short, our stubbornness, our intransigence (Sinatra - "I did it my way"), our addiction, our hatred, our anger, lust, greed, and pride, our selfishness, our envy - every single sin - all this was taken into account, paid for, worked through, understood, and taken away from us. No more sacrifices are required by you and me - as a matter of fact, (and this is important) it would be presumptuous of us to think that we could offer some sacrifice in addition to the one offered for us, on the cross, on Good Friday.
I have learned that this is old hat to a lot of my friends, who get pretty bored with my amazement, and marvel that I took so long to "get it". Looking around, however, I don't think that I'm in the minority - Christians are still trying every which way to do something that will impress God, to make some sacrifice, to bear their own pitiful cross like a martyr, as so forth. Been there, done that, got the t-shirt. Truth be known, I still wear that t-shirt underneath my shirt, where none of my friends can see it.
There is a Derek Webb song which speaks to this - Derek is a singer/songwriter, and has written a powerful song entitled "I Repent", which contains these lines:
"I repent,
I repent,
Of paying for what I get for free."
It's a great song, by a compelling artist. But it's not as good as this little song, called Agnus Dei, which is part of the liturgy:
"O Lamb of God, that takest away the sins of the world, have mercy upon us.
O Lamb of God, that takest away the sins of the world, have mercy upon us.
O Lamb of God, that takest away the sins of the world, grant us thy peace."
Perhaps if it's peace that I want, I'm going to have to give up some things I've been carrying around - like the wood for the burnt offering - and quit paying for what was given to me - and you - for free.
Monday, January 8, 2007
Certainty
I met a young man about to go off to college the other day; very bright, articulate, lots of potential. Somehow, we got on the subject of religion. He was at that place where a lot of us are, or have been - he was worried about his faith. He said so - in classic style, after sharing a few disappointments that piled up over the past year, he sighed and said "I think I've lost my faith". His struggle was familiar: After a childhood and youth during which he was brought up in a church setting, expected to believe like his parents, he is now at that stage where he has to make up his own mind and blaze his own trail, so to speak. He was looking for some evidence, some bricks and mortar, so that he could get back on track.
It got me to thinking about "faith": Can you lose it, misplace it, drop it under your car seat never to be seen again, or put it in a basement closet and forget about it? Can you shed your faith like you shed your skin, or lose it like you lose your hair?
And, now that my friend has "lost his faith", I wonder: What takes the place of the faith he once had?
My pal M. says, when faced with such issues, "You gotta get in the Word" - so if you look it up, Heb. 11:1 defines faith as "the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen". More than "belief", this is a word implying something deep, abiding, palpable, and provocative.
Along those lines, I share one of the most meaningful things I've ever heard anybody say about faith. I was in the audience at one of those Cursillo weekend retreats when I heard a very wise man, J.M., say: "The opposite of Faith is not Doubt. The opposite of Faith is Certainty."
It got me to thinking about "faith": Can you lose it, misplace it, drop it under your car seat never to be seen again, or put it in a basement closet and forget about it? Can you shed your faith like you shed your skin, or lose it like you lose your hair?
And, now that my friend has "lost his faith", I wonder: What takes the place of the faith he once had?
My pal M. says, when faced with such issues, "You gotta get in the Word" - so if you look it up, Heb. 11:1 defines faith as "the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen". More than "belief", this is a word implying something deep, abiding, palpable, and provocative.
Along those lines, I share one of the most meaningful things I've ever heard anybody say about faith. I was in the audience at one of those Cursillo weekend retreats when I heard a very wise man, J.M., say: "The opposite of Faith is not Doubt. The opposite of Faith is Certainty."
Tuesday, December 26, 2006
Circles
Whoever decided to put Christmas right next to New Year's Day was a genius; must have been the same person who decided that dessert comes at the end of the meal. This year, the theme has been "life as a big circle", i.e., the ends of things smashed up against new beginnings. Life has provided more than it's share of circular happenings this year, it seems. Daughter M. graduated from college this month, and begins more school next year. Daughter K. graduated also, and begins the next phase of her life. Son E. now has a son of his own, the beginning of acute responsibility and the end of "laissez faire" - the same for daughter-in-law S.
Christmas Eve was on a Sunday this year, so I attended the morning worship service, then later attended the Christmas Eve service in the evening.
Christ Church, in Fairfield, is a melting pot of a church. Holy Communion there is different than most; we all stand in a big circle, old and young, rich and poor, red and yellow, black and white, while the priest makes his way around to each of us to give us the consecrated host. Sometimes the children, not able to stand still, will dance like they're at a party.
I like standing in that big circle, at the end of the week and - at the same time - the beginning of the week; remembering "the last supper", and realizing that it was just the beginning of a new thing that lasts forever, a celebration without end...
Christmas Eve was on a Sunday this year, so I attended the morning worship service, then later attended the Christmas Eve service in the evening.
Christ Church, in Fairfield, is a melting pot of a church. Holy Communion there is different than most; we all stand in a big circle, old and young, rich and poor, red and yellow, black and white, while the priest makes his way around to each of us to give us the consecrated host. Sometimes the children, not able to stand still, will dance like they're at a party.
I like standing in that big circle, at the end of the week and - at the same time - the beginning of the week; remembering "the last supper", and realizing that it was just the beginning of a new thing that lasts forever, a celebration without end...
Monday, December 18, 2006
Birth
Today was a beautiful day; A bit warm for December, blue skies, a little breeze. This morning, I went back to the same hospital where K. died just two weeks ago, to be present for the birth of my first grandchild. Keller was born at 8:45 this morning, 8 lbs. 1 oz., 19 inches long, 26 days premature. He was having a little trouble breathing, so he was taken to the NICU, but on this quiet, clear night, he's sleeping peacefully. He's just about as perfect as he can be, and all of us who have hovered around waiting for this day are exceedingly thankful.
Words fail a fellow sometimes; this is one of those times. Some folks never seem to be at a loss for words, though, like the person who wrote this in the BCP, page 829:
Almighty God, heavenly Father, you have blessed us with the joy and care of children. Give us calm strength and patient wisdom as we bring them up, that we may teach them to love whatever is just and true and good, following the example of our Savior Jesus Christ.
Amen.
Friday, December 15, 2006
Faith
It's Advent season, a time of anticipation and preparation for that portion of believers who observe the church calendar. We hear sermons about the Old Testament prophets foretelling the arrival of the Messiah, John the Baptist telling us to get ready, and the need to prepare our hearts and minds for His coming. It's a challenging time, because we all know from past experience that He's coming, but He didn't exactly fit the image that the followers of old had in mind - They were expecting a warrior king, majestic and powerful, to lead them to greatness. He was a king, but He was born in a barn. He was a warrior, "mighty in battle", but he never led a conquering army. He was majestic and powerful, but also "a man of sorrows, well acquainted with grief". Come to think of it, He doesn't always fit our expectations, either: Every time we try to put Him in a category, He defies our expectations, leaving us scratching our heads, trying to understand...
In the end, when our expectations aren't met, we're left to stew, sometimes doubting and confused, sometimes angry and sullen, pining for answers before an inscrutable God. Our faith is tested. I mean, He was supposed to take care of us, make us happy, prosperous, full of vim and vigor, no?
Along those lines, I received this poem from a good friend. The author is, unfortunately, unknown.
BUTTPRINTS IN THE SAND
One night I had a wondrous dream
One set of footprints there was seen
The footprints of my precious Lord,
But mine were not along the shore.
But then some stranger prints appeared,
And I asked the Lord, What have we here?
Those prints are large and round and neat,
But Lord, they are too big for feet.
My child, He said in somber tones,
For miles I carried you alone.
I challenged you to walk in faith,
But you refused and made me wait.
You disobeyed, you would not grow,
The walk of faith, you would not know.
So I got tired, I got fed up,
And there I dropped you on your butt.
Because in life, there comes a time,
When one must fight and one must climb,
When one must rise and take a stand,
Or leave their buttprints in the sand.
And so, we are left to wonder... butts firmly planted in the sand.
Perhaps this is the essence of Faith - i.e., if we possessed a clear and certain understanding of Jesus - all that He was, and is, and ever will be, in our lives and in heaven above - If we could put Him in a box, then Faith would become Knowledge, and it would lose something very precious and essential in the process. Instead, Faith, when fully grown and matured, becomes Trust.
In the end, when our expectations aren't met, we're left to stew, sometimes doubting and confused, sometimes angry and sullen, pining for answers before an inscrutable God. Our faith is tested. I mean, He was supposed to take care of us, make us happy, prosperous, full of vim and vigor, no?
Along those lines, I received this poem from a good friend. The author is, unfortunately, unknown.
BUTTPRINTS IN THE SAND
One night I had a wondrous dream
One set of footprints there was seen
The footprints of my precious Lord,
But mine were not along the shore.
But then some stranger prints appeared,
And I asked the Lord, What have we here?
Those prints are large and round and neat,
But Lord, they are too big for feet.
My child, He said in somber tones,
For miles I carried you alone.
I challenged you to walk in faith,
But you refused and made me wait.
You disobeyed, you would not grow,
The walk of faith, you would not know.
So I got tired, I got fed up,
And there I dropped you on your butt.
Because in life, there comes a time,
When one must fight and one must climb,
When one must rise and take a stand,
Or leave their buttprints in the sand.
And so, we are left to wonder... butts firmly planted in the sand.
Perhaps this is the essence of Faith - i.e., if we possessed a clear and certain understanding of Jesus - all that He was, and is, and ever will be, in our lives and in heaven above - If we could put Him in a box, then Faith would become Knowledge, and it would lose something very precious and essential in the process. Instead, Faith, when fully grown and matured, becomes Trust.
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