a digital commonplace book
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How I wish I had my father’s self-control. The man could stop at half a slice of bacon!
#healthyeating #weightreduction #selfcontrol #whosegodistheirbelly #philippians3v19
(background image by jackmac34 on Pixabay)
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Two things prompt this reflection.
First, I am thinking and praying about participating in an organization that promotes spiritual development through outdoor adventures. So I ask myself what part outdoor adventure has played in my own development? Did hiking and climbing mountains alone and with friends lay the groundwork for spiritual growth? If so, how?
Second, I was preparing some photos to help me tell the story of “The Road of No Return.” This was a mountain climbing trip with my great friend Darol. When I was 52, he and I revisited a mountain area where we had climbed 17 years earlier. In the intervening years, wisdom had traded places with strength. To put it another way, strength had migrated from my feet to my head! I have a vivid memory of seeing our car in the valley below, and of the seemingly interminable trek down the mountain road to reach that car. How could it hurt so much to reach something we could see with our own eyes?
Note: I’m not suggesting that the reflection in the image is one of profound understanding. It’s simply a recognition that places and experiences affect how we think about the world. They form a map in our brains… sometimes, a topo map.
#mountainadventures #spiritualgrowth #spiritualformation #learningwithfriends
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It’s frustrating to not be understood or appreciated. We probably all experience that at times. Imagine what it’s like to be God, to tell the best story, paint the best picture, or write the best poem ever—all for an audience who don’t get it. Yet.
#unappreciated #john1v10 #godspoetry #ephesians2v10 #vangogh
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TODAY’S LUNCHTIME THOUGHTS
I have been camping out in John 18 for about a week now. This is the chapter where Jesus is arrested and Peter denies him. John switches back and forth between Jesus and Peter. One is protecting others, the other is protecting himself. As I reflect on what Jesus would have me learn from this section, I naturally think about the spheres in which I can and should look out for others: in my family, church, at work, on boards…. Am I being a good shepherd?
HOW ABOUT GOD?
The poem pushes on John’s claim that Jesus loved his disciples to the end, and that he did not fail in protecting them. I’m convinced that God does not mind us asking hard questions about his goodness. To do anything less is to not take him seriously. So, is God good?
What I have written in the poem is not a full answer to that question. Hah! But it’s part of the answer. His loving purpose for us is not accomplished in 70 years, or even 100.
#goodshepherd #theodicy #john13v1 #peteriwilllaydownmylife #john15v23 #greaterlovehasnoone #john17v12 #john18 #feedmysheep #john21v17
(background image by David Mark on Pixabay)
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It’s lunchtime as I write this, and I’ve reached chapter five of Fleming Rutledge’s “The Crucifixion.” She is pointing out the active nature of remembering. It’s more than simply recalling. Some of us live only in the space between our eyebrows and the tops of our heads. Our thoughts and actions are estranged. We think, but do not do. Fortunately for us, God isn’t like that. We may not appreciate or understand what He’s doing, but HE IS DOING.
By the way, of poems that I have written, this has come to be one of my favorites. The mindless mumbling of the poor man in the poem is much like my prayers, even the poems of prayer that I write. What I am coming to understand is that God takes my requests more seriously than I do. I expect to be reminded of this often in eternity.
#flemingrutledge #thecrucifixion #remembering #philippians1v6
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When, as former students we realize how much we were missing sleep…
When our addictions abate…
When we learn it was a now-defeated power that held us captive…
Then we celebrate.
#flemingrutledge #thecrucifixion #romans7 #prevenientgrace #notsplittinghairs
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LUNCHTIME POETRY
A coworker asked me how I spend my spare time. My answer felt weird and lonely.
Thinking about this some more…. Actually, I DO have friends who enjoy things I enjoy (e.g., hiking, making music, photography), but I have failed to schedule doing these things WITH friends most of my adult life (especially after my 20s). I understand this is a common weakness of men. A counselor told me that men my age generally have very few close friends (he was surprised at the number I DO have). Plenty of acquaintances, sure, but they might as well be strangers. I had that in mind in the second stanza: we are sometimes strangers with those who could be friends, or are friends… close friends.
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I’m nearing the end of Michael Reeves’ “Delighting in the Trinity.” In the section I read this morning, he was trying to convince me that God’s love is not at odds with His wrath. I think Reeves might even say that God’s love and wrath are inseparable. I’ll have to keep thinking about this one, mainly by testing words in poetry.
To be honest, this is the sort of poem I might have written when I was young and thoughtless. The truth is that God’s wrath is something I don’t really understand. I think I understand his love, but not his wrath.
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FIRST, MY STATE OF MIND IN WRITING THIS POEM
Occasionally, I lie awake for hours, struggling with the consequences of being an obvious sinner. Then, the sun rises and I must go forth, in hope that the Spirit will channel this expressive energy God gave me.
The sins of some people are obvious, going before them into judgment, but for others, they show up later. Similarly good works are also obvious, and the ones that are not cannot remain hidden.
1 Timothy 5:24-25 NET
NOW THE EXCELLENT FEEDBACK OF TWO WISE FRIENDS
First, from Jim Powell: “You probably already know this, but Tony Campolo famously began one of his sermons by saying: ‘I have three things I’d like to say today. First, while you were sleeping last night, 30,000 kids died of starvation or diseases related to malnutrition. Second, most of you don’t give a shit. What’s worse is that you’re more upset with the fact that I said shit than the fact that 30,000 kids died last night.'”
Jim added, “For the record, I do not use profanity, though I occasionally will quote it if there is a reason to do so. I probably wouldn’t even use it the way that Tony Campolo did, however, he is right about his priorities. While we sleep tonight, thousands of children will die of hunger, malnutrition, and curable diseases. And we don’t get as energized about doing something about it, because we don’t see any angle in which we would be fighting against sin. In fact, too many Christians would turn away those very children if they showed up at our southern border. Because right-wing news media have convinced many that they are a grave threat to our national security.”
Then, this from David Lewis: “I read in a (now out-of-print) book a line about a woman who was poisoning her husband little-by-little. She distilled the poison out of sweet words, loving words, gentle words, all of them withheld.”
#1timothy5v24 #stoneswillcry #luke19v40 #whenwordsaremany #proverbs10v19
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I initially wrote this about the gift of poetic expression. But as soon as I had called that “joy,” I realized that what I was writing applies to all of us who have been gifted in some way by God. Each person can work out how his or her gift can be an expression of God’s loving intent.
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THE CHRIST
This morning, as I crawl through Jesus’ prayer in John 17, I think back to Peter’s confession: “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God” (Matthew 16:16). Some of us may tend to hear Peter’s confession solely as a recognition of Jesus’ greatness. But where there is an annointed one—the literal meaning of christos—there is an annointer. As we can clearly see in John 17, Jesus was determined that his disciples know WHO had sent him, WHO had annointed him, thus making him the Christ. For him, that was paramount.
Consider the kind of humility it would take for a United States Ambassador to proclaim: “I am merely a deputy.” Jesus was far more than a deputy. But such was his humble perspective.
Is it mine? Today?
#thechrist #matthew16v16 #petersconfession #humility
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Every now and then, I’m struck by things I’ve taken for granted. In my crawl through John, I’m to chapter 17, which is entirely Jesus praying to the Father. How is it possible that mere man can witness, and understand such an exchange?! If the answer seems easy, you may not have thought this through.
NOTE: The WIDENING of God’s love in that last line had double meaning to me. The less obvious meaning: the rift or chasm Jesus felt when he cried out, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” It meant more than I succeeded in articulating.
#john17 #upperroomdiscourse #highpriestlyprayer #loveinthetrinity #madeingodsimage #godinflesh
(background image by Lumina Obscura on Pixabay)
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GNAWING AT GLORY
The other day, I was reading an article by a respected theologian. Whatever the topic was (I forget), I stopped reading when I got to a paragraph that began, “Let me explain glory….”
Why did I stop reading? I respect that author so much that I assume he’s close to understanding something I very much wish to understand. But here’s the deal: I wish to chew on this topic, not swallow it whole; to squeeze the oranges, not just drink orange juice; to assemble a jigsaw puzzle, not just admire its finished scene.
It’s in the COMING TO UNDERSTAND that I’ll be changed.
Here’s a closely-related poem: Through Clouds.
(background image based on an original by Nina Edmondson on Pixabay)
#nowisthesonofmanglorified #john13v31 #judasandjesus
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It seems that we humans are not unified by anything. But is it possible that we are unified in rebellion against our Creator and Judge? I have been puzzling about this. The Babel story is something I’ll have to account for as I explore the idea that the biggest tribe of all is humanity. If you’re interested in where I got my imagery, read about “The Great Sedition Trial of 1944.”
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Less than two months into my new job at the library, and I’ll be getting a new manager. I wrote this poem for Jennifer’s going-away party (I also sent it to the Dallas Public Library Director and to the relevant District Manager). Back when I was hired, I had marveled with a friend that Jennifer has a background that’s ideal for the areas in which I want to grow. I think the two months DID set me on a good course. We’ll see what a new manager brings into the mix….
February 2024 update: We did get a new manager a couple of months later, and he has been SUPERB!
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NEEDING TO BE HEARD
We’re part of something bigger than ourselves, a symphony that requires our silence at one time and our sounding at another.
For some, it’s the silence that’s hard. For others, it’s the sounding.
A Note I Appended for My Sister, Cindy
There’s a lot to think about in this one. Sometimes, words of correction, caution, healing, comfort, or inspiration NEED to be spoken. SOMEONE has those words. It’s their turn to speak (I’m really helped by thinking of our speech as part of a symphony). I doubt anyone has ever accused you of withholding good words. In fact, your readiness to praise and encourage is part of what makes you so lovable.
(background image by “Hans” on Pixabay)
#reticent #verbose #uniquevoice
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From worldhistory.org: “Sisyphus (or Sisyphos) is a figure from Greek mythology who, as king of Corinth, became infamous for his general trickery and twice cheating death. He ultimately got his comeuppance when Zeus dealt him the eternal punishment of forever rolling a boulder up a hill in the depths of Hades.”
#icestorm #determination #sisyphus #drivingonice #slippingaway
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In some ways, this is the prayer of my life. Once, long ago, I told a teacher and friend, “There’s little I feel compelled to say.” With age, that is changing. Considering how much I have learned about the need for reformation in my life, it’s a good thing I was taciturn in my youth!
By the way, this is coming to be one of my favorite poems–in case anyone ever wonders….
(background image by WikiImages from Pixabay)
#taciturn #loquacious #folly #wisdom #youth #oldage
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Live long enough (or thoughtfully enough), and we all have to consider the words Jesus spoke shortly before his own death:
Truly, truly, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. Whoever loves his life loses it, and whoever hates his life in this world will keep it for eternal life.
John 12:24-25 ESV
(background image by “jplenio” on Pixabay)
#john12vv24-25 #eternallife #seeds #flourishing #dandelions
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Most mornings, I set a timer on my phone for ten minutes. During that time, I read a chapter or two of some inspirational book while eggs cook in water that was brought to a boil. This morning, I was thoroughly enjoying reading Michael Reeves. Suddenly, I realized that I was in a magical zone of oblivion to the outside world, with no idea how much time had passed. My timer had failed to set. The eggs were fine, but I had to jot down this little poem.
(background image by Dariusz Lazar on Pixabay)
#eventtime
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My progress through John gets slower and slower. I’m to chapter twelve. I may be too hard on the crowd in this poem, but I still wonder how Jesus was feeling as he entered Jerusalem in “triumph,” all the while knowing what awaited him, and what awaited the people he loved….
The next day the large crowd that had come to the feast heard that Jesus was coming to Jerusalem. So they took branches of palm trees and went out to meet him, crying out, “Hosanna! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord, even the King of Israel!” And Jesus found a young donkey and sat on it, just as it is written, “Fear not, daughter of Zion; behold, your king is coming, sitting on a donkey’s colt!” His disciples did not understand these things at first, but when Jesus was glorified, then they remembered that these things had been written about him and had been done to him.
John 12:12-16 ESV
(background image by JackieLou DL on Pixabay)
#triumphalentry #hosanna #jesusking #john1
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I have written about this before in various ways. Clearly, I haven’t resolved the tension.
(background image by Herbert Bieser on Pixabay)
#falseguilt #expectations #insufficiency #inadequacy #memory #hauntingmemories
This poem is inspired by the seeming anachronism of what Jesus said just after Judas had left the Last Supper on his way out to betray him:
When he had gone out, Jesus said, “Now is the Son of Man glorified, and God is glorified in him.”
John 13:31
I held off on posting this poem for several days. Here’s what I wrote to a friend about my hesitation:
I have this niggling feeling I’m getting something wrong in the poem, that something’s off.
I believe this is what was troubling me: everything in me wants to associate God’s glory with triumph. But Jesus’ statement that “Now is the Son of Man glorified” comes just at the point in the story where Judas has gone out to help the religious leaders defeat Jesus.
How does Jesus’ putting himself in a place where his enemies could–and would–kill him constitute an instance of God’s glory–the glory of the Father and the glory of the Son?
Here’s one of several answers. I offer this one because it applies to us as it does to Jesus: our submission reveals the glory of a God who is able to make a man who can say “No” but is willing to say “Yes.” If we go all the way back to Job, we see that this glory of God is on display to the universe.
“Sent”
As I have been slowly reading through the Gospel of John, there is a word that Jesus uses frequently about himself. It is “sent.” He wants people to understand and believe that he is sent by the Father. For instance, John records this short prayer of Jesus when the stone had been taken away from Lazarus’ tomb:
So they took away the stone. And Jesus lifted up his eyes and said, “Father, I thank you that you have heard me. I knew that you always hear me, but I said this on account of the people standing around, that they may believe that you sent me.”
John 11:41-42
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I don’t currently have anything to add to this one. But YAY! I finished getting caught up with posting a whole year of poems.
I was a wealthy little boy when we were a penniless missionary family in Mexico. Nobody, anywhere had it better than me: food, music, literature, travel, freedom, and love were all mine in abundance.
I haven’t always enjoyed this wealth. It took a few years of rest to recover my perspective.
Tomorrow (December 12, 2022), I start back into a full time job, after almost six years of leisurely freelance work. I think I’m ready for this!
December 27, 2022 Addition: It has been over two weeks now since I began working at the library. It has been slow, as I’m told it always is this time of year. But we have had enough traffic, and I have had enough interactions with library patrons to know that my compassion and empathy will be stretched in this setting. By God’s grace, they’ll grow.
(background image by Emilian Robert Vicol on Pixabay)
The disciples said to him, “Rabbi, the Jews were just now seeking to stone you, and are you going there again?” Jesus answered, “Are there not twelve hours in the day? If anyone walks in the day, he does not stumble, because he sees the light of this world. But if anyone walks in the night, he stumbles, because the light is not in him.”
John 11:8-10 ESV
Jesus had left Jerusalem, where religious leaders were trying to stone him. He and his disciples were on the other side of the Jordan River, enjoying a fruitful ministry. But it was time to return to Judea, and his dying friend Lazarus. There he would demonstrate his power and love.
The disciples objected, basically saying, “Protect yourself! They’re trying to kill you in Jerusalem.”
Jesus’ response was curious… at least to me. Instead of dealing with the immediate danger of being stoned to death, Jesus talked about walking in light, to avoid stumbling.
Stoning and stumbling…. Both involve stones. Maybe that’s the connection in Jesus’ curious response. Perhaps he was aware that a fearful avoidance of suffering—at the hands of those who wished to stone him—was itself a sneaky stumbling stone he and his disciples must avoid.
That’s the interpretation I probe with this poem.
Stones that fly
And stones that lie...
Either one can
Take you down!
(background image by Jerzy Górecki on Pixabay)
Now Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus. So, when he heard that Lazarus was ill, he stayed two days longer in the place where he was.
John 11:5-6 ESV
This morning, my crawl through John got me to chapter eleven. If it has been a while since you read that chapter, I urge you to read it now. You’ll realize that Jesus was about 20 miles (a good day’s walk) from Lazarus, and his sisters. That raises the question: why did Jesus stay where he was after being told that Lazarus was sick? John’s word choice is curious. He writes, “So he stayed two days longer.” You or I might have written “But he stayed two days longer.”
What I’m beginning to explore in this poem is the relationship between Jesus’ love for Lazarus and his staying away when he was summoned by Lazarus’ sisters. The question is an old one: “How does a loving God let his creation suffer?”
You’ll see that most of my poem is pure speculation, call it sanctified imagination. What was Lazarus experiencing as he neared death? What was actually happening?
I think I know where part two will land:
On the shore of glory and love
(then we’ll understand)
Long before I needed to shave, I felt this desperate need to be creative. The trick was finding the right outlet. I’d imagine all of us have this affliction… though some without beards.
I mean no disrespect to Notre-Dame. I chose the background photo for this little poem because when I think of flying buttresses, I can’t imagine any more prominent than those that support Notre-Dame’s vaulted ceiling.
As a side note, surely I’m not the first person to say that when I view a photo of Notre-Dame taken from the southeast (the view in the photo above), I see the flying buttresses as streams of tears flowing from the old lady’s eyes. Her eyes have seen a lot.
The Poem
This morning, I was reflecting on how much my thinking has been–and is being–recalibrated. Over the last few years, I’ve had to rethink much of what I formerly thought of as good and noble in politics, religion, national and state history. Almost daily, I learn more and more about flaws in what I once thought was practically flawless. There’s a lot of sadness in this realization. On the other hand, the very low view–verging on hatred–that I had for many opposing institutions and ideologies has practically disappeared. I can now see virtue in people I once despised. I can hear what they say with an open mind. They no longer threaten me. That’s because I no longer count on the institutions they oppose. My honor is not wrapped up in a political party, or nation, or state. More and more, I’m simply a follower of Jesus. More and more, my worth is wrapped up in his worth.
Something VERY Cool
Go to this link, hover over the pin for the Notre-Dame cathedral and watch a 360-degree fly-around of the beautiful building.
(background image adapted from photo by Jacques Gaimard on Pixabay)
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[Jesus] said to him, “Go, wash in the pool of Siloam” (which means Sent). So he went and washed and came back seeing.
John 9:7 ESV
This morning, in my crawl through John, I got to chapter nine, and one of my favorite passages: Jesus’ healing of the man born blind. It seems obvious to me that John was capturing Jesus’ playfulness with words, and maybe even playing along. One of the clues is that in telling us about the pool of Siloam, John inserts, “Translated, that means ‘Sent’.”
There’s a lot more going on in the passage than I understand. That prompts me to write a poem, to poke at the story and see what emerges.
Let me encourage you to read John 9. It’s really fantastic. Pay attention to words like “work, works, sent, display, light, and blind.” If you’re like me, you’ll be reading some of it and thinking, “This part looks like something John and his fellow believers put in song.” Maybe you’ll be inspired to write your own song!
(background image by Giani Pralea on Pixabay)
Here’s how I posted this on Facebook:
WITH SINCERE APOLOGIES TO ALL
This opaque poem is an attempt to capture how many of us—maybe all of us—think of the fleeting now as all that matters.
In my crawl through John, I’m repeatedly impressed that Jesus is more interested in his listeners’ eternal life than they are.
The preacher said that God sets eternity in our hearts (Ecclesiastes 3:11). More often than not, we chase it out.
PERHAPS APOLOGIES WERE NOT REQUIRED
I’ll probably never understand how others respond to poetry. There are poems I think are really good, but I know in advance that nobody else will respond to them–and I don’t blame them! I also publish poems that I’m not especially proud of, and they get a lot of positive response. I couldn’t tell with this poem. It seemed rather opaque (thus the apology). But I was honoring my intuition about repetition and line breaks. Here’s an example of the latter: “By drop of rain” was originally a continuation of the preceding line. So it was “We stare, transfixed by drop of rain.” Then, I thought, “Creating a new line elevates what’s on that line.” And I wanted to elevate the disconnect between the transience of the thing–“drop of rain” and “momentarily” on the one hand–and our response to it–“celebrate” and “Momentous” on the other hand. If my intuition about line breaks is right, then others WILL respond positively, whether or not they stop to identify what’s happening.
These days, whenever there’s a mass shooting, one of the more poignant things afterwards is hearing what the shooter’s parents or siblings have to say. Imagine being Judas Iscariot’s father. John gives us his name. It was Simon Iscariot. Why do we know that name? Did Simon end up following Jesus? I hope so!
Here’s the passage that prompted my flight of imagination (the poem), with a little of its context:
Simon Peter answered him, “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life, and we have believed, and have come to know, that you are the Holy One of God.” Jesus answered them, “Did I not choose you, the twelve? And yet one of you is a devil.” He spoke of Judas the son of Simon Iscariot, for he, one of the twelve, was going to betray him.
John 6:68-71 ESV
A friend of mine wrote this:
In Mark 3, when Jesus chooses the 12, it casually mentions that Judas would betray him. I always thought that was just a throw-in, some foreboding music to alert us about coming plot twists. But then it hit me: What if Jesus chose Judas BECAUSE he was going to betray Him? And what if he put Judas in charge of the money bag in order to keep him around, since he planned to use him as an important part of orchestrating His own death?
Bruce Beaty
“We’re on the same page,” I said, “Jesus was orchestrating events, not just responding to them. It’s amazing.”
There’s an odd little passage in John’s account of Jesus walking on the water the night after he had fed the five thousand:
But he said to them, “It is I; don’t be afraid.” Then they were willing to take him into the boat, and immediately the boat reached the shore where they were heading.
John 6:20-21 NIV
They were willing!? That’s the translation in the NASB and NIV. I immediately ask myself, “Why would they not be willing?” The Greek verb is θελο (thelo), and some translations render that in this passage as “wanted” (NET), or “were glad” (ESV). Those translations may be correct. But I have to wonder if John could be subtly suggesting something that was at issue in the disciples’ response to their teacher: their willingness to accept the unfolding of events on his terms.
THIS IS A STRETCH, I know, but follow me for how I get to my devotional response in the poem….
After feeding the five thousand, Jesus had “wandered” off to avoid a power-hungry crowd. The disciples took off rowing across the lake without Jesus. I think that’s odd. Were they ticked off at him? Now, they were struggling on choppy waters. Is it possible that they were having second thoughts about their teacher? Is it possible that they were just barely “willing” to take him on board given their doubts about his plans?
Maybe I notice that possibility because I myself question Jesus’ plans in my life.
Thus the poem.
Another Thought
John is deep. But I doubt he’s introducing any depth that wasn’t there already in Jesus. That’s part of what prompted this poem. Jesus wasn’t merely responding to circumstances in the disciples’ lives. He was orchestrating events, using his full “vocabulary” of metaphors to drive home truth. It was no accident that the sea was thrashing on that night.
(background adapted from an image by Roberto Barresi on Pixabay)
In a sidebar of “Rejoicing in Christ,” Michael Reeves writes about the English Reformer John Bradford. He says, “Most Christians take mealtime as a chance to thank God and remember him as their provider, but Bradford saw every part of the day as a gospel reminder.”
That seems like a fitting response to God’s ubiquitous poetry.
About the Background Image
Two blocks over from where I live, there is a house with a tall, elegant sycamore. That’s the kind of tree that surrounded our house in East Texas. I thought they were fairly common, until I began looking for one to photograph for another poem. That’s when I discovered how rare they are, at least in Dallas.
This afternoon, as the sun set at its new, ridiculously early bedtime, I was out for a walk, and noticed how beautiful the light was. As I walked, I was supposedly listening to King David’s Psalms. But my mind was also occupied with how I myself should respond to beauty around me.
I hope you don’t consider this vignette–and others like it–an exposition of a biblical passage. It’s my emotional and imaginative response to the story of Jesus healing a lame man who had languished by the Pool of Bethesda (John 5). It makes me almost as happy to think of a reader saying “No, you got this wrong” as it would for the reader to say, “Oh yeah, that’s it. You nailed it!” I mainly want my reader to enter the scene with me, look around, and take it in, even if that means that my observations and interpretations prove to be mistaken.
A Personal Reflection
You may notice that the background I chose for this vignette is a homeless camp somewhere. In growing up to be like Jesus, I often struggle with kindness and compassion. These qualities are tested by seeing beggars and homeless people. So, in considering whether or not I am growing in these qualities, I let my thoughts wander back across my life to earlier encounters. Here’s what I jotted down:
SUFFERING IS LARGELY HID FROM OUR EYES
I grew up in a city where the disabled had to get out in public, so they could beg. Although a six-year-old Bradley didn’t feel the compassion that I feel now, I can still recall some of the more heart-wrenching scenes, like the legless man who got around by propping himself up on a skateboard. As with most powerful memories, I also remember the place. He hung out near the city’s one big, modern grocery store. I suppose it’s because the store’s clientele were “rich” folk like my missionary parents. And a few of those rich folk—there, like here—had compassion.
(background image by José Manuel de Laá on Pixabay)
Imagine how sad it would be for a person to grow up thinking they’re one thing when they’re really another. They might spend a lifetime missing out on the wonder of their true giftedness.
This was my first clear thought upon waking from dreams this morning. So I stayed in bed and wrote it down, in the form of a story. It’s partly the story of my life. Only my story doesn’t end in tragedy. Does yours?
I’ll have to confess one possible inspiration for this silly little story: the “Mr. Garvey” skits by the brilliant Key and Peele (warning — coarse language):
LISTEN SELECTIVELY
If the voices we listen to are a constant barrage of criticism leveled at “the other side,” we shouldn’t be surprised to find ourselves falling into this sin.
God help me see this sin as clearly in myself as I see it in others!
(background image by “thefss” on Pixabay)
When I pose a question, I often wish for my listener to enter the mystery with me, and so I’m disappointed when they trot out a confident answer.
Exploring a mystery can transform us more than witnessing its alleged revelation.
(background image by “karosieben” on Pixabay)
This kind of poem should probably be written by an experienced counselor, or pastor… someone who really knows the condition of hearts. As a poet, I sometimes just throw words against the wall to see if they stick. It’s like verbal spaghetti. How did Photine perceive herself? Why had she gone from man to man? I have an intuition that men and women long for beauty, especially beauty that is tied to the goodness of a person, ultimately THE Person: God.
I am working my way very slowly through the Gospel of John, and typically spend a few days translating and contemplating each chapter. I wrote the above poem the morning that I started into chapter 4. It was an attempt to imagine what the Samaritan woman might have been thinking as she trekked to the well for water. As I think about her situation in the days after I wrote the poem, I begin to second-guess myself. And that’s okay. It’s helpful to use one’s imagination, not for coming to conclusions, but for generating more questions.
A Grammatical Riddle
Should the last two lines be “competitors FOR peace of mind,” or “competitors WITH peace of mind”? Even thinking through a question like this one raises other questions: 1) would Photine have said that she already had peace of mind? 2) were there false claimants to her peace of mind? 3) was peace of mind really one of Photine’s felt needs in any case? I don’t think any of us knows the answers. But maybe some day we will.
(background image adapted from a photograph by Fr. Lawrence, OP. He comments, “This painting of Christ and the Samaritan Woman is in the museum at the Dominican priory of Santa Sabina in Rome.”)
This poem memorializes something that really happened this morning. I assist St. Bart’s Anglican Church by projecting slides during their service. That means that I show up before their services and step through all the song slides as their worship team practices. They have professional, highly-skilled musicians, which is always a pleasure for me. This morning, the musicians seemed especially creative–maybe even frisky–in their practice time. I believe it was while they were practicing the Doxology that Esther Brister suddenly hit a harmonizing note that blew my mind. I’m not a musician, so it’s easy to impress me. But I wasn’t alone. Everyone there laughed in delight.
The Background Image
This afternoon, as I was thinking about what happened this morning, I thought of quasars, and the powerful escape of light from them. That’s probably inaccurate, as I know next to nothing about astronomy. But I’m learning about beauty, and this morning’s occurrence was definitely an outburst of beautiful energy.
(background image by Андрей Сидоренко on Pixabay)
