Tag Archives: hope

Good Wine

(if you are viewing this via email, the website has a recording of this poem and commentary; click the title above)

Commentary

Do you ever feel like, “God isn’t pleased with me and never will be”? I suspect that is a thought that hangs over many of us, even those who are saved through faith in Jesus Christ. Well, every now and then, I just feel like saying “Go jump in a lake” to the accuser. In plain language, I suspect that in Heaven, God will express far more pleasure with us than Satan would have us anticipate.

There are two odd, but purposeful wording choices in this poem:
1) “be proven to have been” That could easily have been “prove to have been,” which would be far easier to read! But I wanted to steer clear of any mistaken notion that the “wine” will do the proving. It’s God who will prove anything. I can imagine Him saying “Here, look at this,” or “Here taste this,” or “Consider how this servant demonstrated my goodness.”

2) “favored year” was originally “favorite year.” But then I realized that was too exclusive, which was the opposite of my intent! More than one year can be favored. When God’s the one favoring, all the years can be favored. And again, “favored” suggests the year receives God’s grace and provision, not that it earns his approval. From my reading of Scripture, “favored” is closer to reality than “favorite.”

(background image by “beasternchen” on Pixabay)

Seeking Approval

(if you are viewing this via email, the website has a recording of this poem and commentary; click the title above)

Commentary

These days, I’m trying to get my head around Paul’s letter to the Romans. In the process, I’m trying to figure out how seeking glory is appropriate. What is glory? And what’s it like to attain glory? Is it “merely” God’s approval? It seems that would fall short of what we think of as glory. Or would it?

I know how horrible it feels to be accused, reproved, rejected. Can I imagine the opposite? This poem explores that notion. In short, I’m wondering if perhaps we all have a deep yearning for approval, and those who seek to satisfy that yearning by obtaining God’s approval are the ones Paul speaks of as seeking glory.

Consider these three verses from Romans 2:

To those who by persistence in doing good seek glory, honor and immortality, he will give eternal life.

Romans 2:7

[there will be] glory, honor and peace for everyone who does good: first for the Jew, then for the Gentile.

Romans 2:10

No, a person is a Jew who is one inwardly; and circumcision is circumcision of the heart, by the Spirit, not by the written code. Such a person’s praise is not from other people, but from God.

Romans 2:29

(background image by “2211438” on Pixabay)

Marco

(if you are viewing this via email, the website has a recording of this poem and commentary; click the title above)

Commentary

I feel self-centered in the tears I shed at hearing of my friend’s death. I’m sad for his wife and children. But mainly, I’m sad for myself. Marco Ciavolino was one of my greatest, most faithful encouragers for over three decades. He knew how to point out my strengths, and downplay my weaknesses.

Back in seminary, Marco was recognized by students and professors as “Mr. Creativity.” I naturally attached myself to him, and spent many a long night working with him on his creative projects. While I was the beneficiary, he would never fail to recall our collaboration as though my self-interest were some kind of faithfulness.

Over the years, I could count on him calling me within minutes of my emailing or texting him with a question. From what I hear, that’s how he was with everyone (see Marco’s obituary).

So yeah…. I’m sad at my loss.

God, make me more like him.

ALSO THIS…
Today, I was thinking of a crazy invention. There’s nobody who celebrated my crazy inventions quite like Marco. I WANT Eternity. I must have Eternity. Only in Eternity does Marco laugh approvingly. Only in Eternity does Jesus celebrate His little brother.

AND THIS: SURPRISED BY PIZZA (One of my many good Marco memories)
Being stupid and forgetful has its charms. For instance, there was that Saturday afternoon many years ago….

I was working in my home office when the doorbell rang. I opened the front door, and there was the Domino’s guy, already removing a large pizza from his insulated delivery bag.

“Brad Hepp?”
“That’s me.”
“Here’s your pizza.”
“I didn’t order pizza.”
“Well, somebody ordered it for Brad Hepp and they already paid.”
“Okay. Thanks!”

I set the pizza on the kitchen counter, wondering how this could have happened. Did I dare take a bite? What if someone was trying to poison me?

That’s when I remembered a phone call I’d had just 30 minutes before with my buddy Marco, who lives up in Maryland. Like me, he is a webmaster. He was calling to share the great news that he had just sold a domain name for $10,000.

“Wow!” I told Marco. “Congratulations!” Then I mindlessly added, “Pizza for everyone!”

Oh yeah! Duh.

Sometimes you get what you ask for.

Covenant of Promise

(if you are viewing this via email, the website has a recording of this poem and commentary; click the title above)

Commentary

This little throw-away poem was my attempt to capture some of what’s being communicated by Stephen in Acts 7, especially the somewhat cryptic “uncircumcised hearts and ears” in his summary indictment:

You stubborn people, with uncircumcised hearts and ears! You are always resisting the Holy Spirit, like your ancestors did!

Acts 7:51 NET

#acts7 #meaningofcircumcision #purposeofcircumcision #covenantofpromise #acceptgodsgoodness #acceptgodskindprovision

Glory in Dust

(if you are viewing this via email, the website has a recording of this poem and commentary; click the title above)

Commentary

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

Great Poet of Re-Creation

(if you are viewing this via email, the website has a recording of this poem and commentary; click the title above)

Commentary

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)

Can You Still Be Shaped?

(if you are viewing this via email, the website has a recording of this poem and commentary; click the title above)

Commentary

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.

Mystery, Also a Gift

(if you are viewing this via email, the website has a recording of this poem and commentary; click the title above)

Commentary

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)

Well-Remembered

(if you are viewing this via email, the website has a recording of this poem and commentary; click the title above)

Commentary

DON’T TRY THIS AT HOME
In this poem, I’m doing two things that are generally discouraged. First, I’m playing with the Greek idioms that Luke used in his telling of the Resurrection. “At early dawn” in Luke 24:1 is literally “at deep dawn” (ορθρου βαθεωσ, orthou batheos). “In dazzling clothing” in 24:4 is literally “in clothing flashing like lightning” (εν εσθητι αστραπτουση, en estheti astraptouse). I pushed lightning to its root: aster = star. OF COURSE, THIS IS GENERALLY FOOLISHNESS. Translating idioms is not a matter of dissecting phrases down to their literal components. Imagine how “knock your socks off” would be translated into another language if the translator were translating word-for-word!

The second thing I’m doing — more successfully in my head than in the poem — is relating New Testament events to Old Testament events. Where, in the Old Testament, was a stone removed for a woman by a man? One place is Jacob’s initial meeting with his bride-to-be Rachel (Genesis 29:1-10). Does that story have anything to do with the Resurrection account? PROBABLY NOT. However, probably not isn’t the same as definitely not.

I say “don’t try this at home.” Don’t make too much of literal meanings of words, or of slight coincidence. But DO THIS: read the Bible with heightened vigilance and imagination. When you encounter stories with wells, or stones, or swords, or angels, or fire remember: the Author was there; often, if not always, He was a character in the story. And He has a long memory.

(background photo by “ernie” on Pixabay)

Meek, Inherit

(if you are viewing this via email, the website has a recording of this poem and commentary; click the title above)

Commentary

Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.

Matthew 5:5 NIV

It’s unsettling to look back on a lifetime of false confidence in man. I suspect most of us grow up thinking, “I’m one of the good guys. All that I possess was fairly earned, righteously taken.” But the more I learn about history, the more that fantasy is dispelled.

(background image by Alicja on Pixabay)

Daphne Was

(if you are viewing this via email, the website has a recording of this poem and commentary)
Background picture by Andy Sa on Pixabay

Commentary

Having attended a funeral yesterday, listening to Barber’s “Adagio For Strings,” and reading a sweet post about a charming lady… That’s where I was when these two words struck a melancholy chord. Some things demand eternity. Actually, many things demand eternity, especially men, women, boys and girls made in the image of God.

If you haven’t listened to Barber’s “Adagio For Stings” recently, here’s one recording of it:

Patina

(if you are viewing this via email, the website has a recording of this poem and commentary; click the title above)

Commentary

I came home tonight after witnessing a friend teaching even more skillfully than before. This poem was my thankful response.

#patina #refinement #1peter4v10 #puebla #cathedral #copper #catedralbasilicadepuebla #poetography #stenerikarmitage

On Father’s Fridge

Commentary

A friend encouraged me to pay close attention to the deep emotion I feel whenever I encounter certain stories. One of those stories is what Luke tells about the — presumably — aged Simeon. When Joseph and Mary encounter Simeon in the temple, they let him hold their baby, Jesus. Simeon says,

Lord, now you are letting your servant depart in peace, according to your word; for my eyes have seen your salvation that you have prepared in the presence of all peoples, a light for revelation to the Gentiles, and for glory to your people Israel.

Luke 2:29‭-‬32

Why does that passage get to me every time I read it? Simeon seems to be satisfied. Everything’s great, right?

No.

More than once, I have been listening through Luke while walking at the lake. When I get to this passage, I tear up so much that anyone crossing paths with me would know something’s “wrong.” Simeon is satisfied, but I am…. What? Dissatisfied? I infer from the passage that Simeon will soon die, and his impending death figures into my response. Simeon is ready for death because he knows now that all will eventually be right in his world: the Messiah has come. Why does that satisfy him, but not me?

Different Story, Similar Feeling
Today, I heard a story that brought the same feeling, though with a little less intensity. The story was about a shy Irish composer named Ina Boyle (1889-1967). Ms. Boyle’s compositions were rarely played during her lifetime, but have been rediscovered fifty years after her death, and are now being played by orchestras.

When I hear a story like Ina Boyle’s or Simeon’s an image looms large in my mind: a great gulf, a void, a chasm separating promise and fulfillment. It’s death. Death and the time that has passed — and will pass — until the Resurrection.

This Poem: Somehow Remembrance…
So, today, when the great gulf came to mind, I asked myself, “What spans that gulf?” The picture that came to mind is strange: a refrigerator door, call it God’s refrigerator door. There he affixes the precious artwork of His children. Time passes, but He doesn’t forget our bright hopes and expectations, our responses to His obvious goodness. Somehow, God’s remembrance answers — will answer — the sadness I feel about mortality, the vapor which is our current state.

Pat Answers?
I could throw pat answers at myself all day long. Don’t even bother. One of my jobs as a poet is to be a spokesman for the feelings in search of truth.

To a Rock Tumbler

Commentary

This poem is me trying to convince myself of something I believe, but have had trouble seeing recently. My attention has been drawn — hopefully by God, and hopefully just for a season — away from delightful things in this world to things that are broken, and terribly in need of restoration. I wrote about that in my recent poem, “Beauty’s Time Tabled.” Frankly, I have a slew of poems coming out about the sadness I currently feel, including one I’ll post on this blog soon: “The House of Sadness.”

So Full of Rocks
Read “rocks” in this poem as the dull, lifeless, colorless sort that make up most of the world. When I think of those rocks, I know that they are actually fascinating, but only in ways that a geologist would recognize.

Won’t Go Far
I sometimes despair that all my thinking and writing is practically useless. When I do point to something beautiful, the response is generally a chasm of silence, an echoing yawn.

But… I Insist
Although I’m currently discouraged and disillusioned, I do still see bright, shiny things here and there, enough to keep hope alive. For instance, this morning, reading Matthew 12, and comparing it to Galatians 2, I saw something that reminded me of God’s better ways. God shows us that we get to obey Him as a celebration and imitation of His gracious, generous, merciful purposes. So I wrote this little poem:

Getting Hungry
I’ve had my taste whetted
For righteousness.
And by that
I mainly mean love.

I long to see
God’s gracious rule
In my heart and in my world,
Not just in Heaven above….

(background image by Stefan Schweihofer on Pixabay)

Heaven’s Not a Party Town?

Commentary

On my walk yesterday, I finished listening to Henri Nouwen’s The Return of the Prodigal Son. It got me thinking about how God views the little triumphs so far and few between in His fallen world.

Why does this matter to me? There are two reasons. First, it matters because considering it is what I should do. Jesus’ parable of the Prodigal Son prompts us to compare ourselves not only with a prodigal or a resentful older brother, but also with a compassionate, generous, and joyful father. Nouwen spends the last third of his book driving that last point home.

A second reason why this matters is that it relates to my current state of mind. I wrote about this already in my commentary for “Beauty’s Time Tabled.” In the arc of my reflection on how evil has been manifest in my own life, the life of the Church, and the life of my nation, I have come to a significant point. Having fancied for some time that my thinking and my poetry might yield fruit beyond my own life, I have begun to dial down my hopes and expectations. The best I can realistically hope for is limited and isolated triumphs. That’s reality in a fallen world.

So how should I respond to this disillusionment? Does God’s joyful response to limited triumphs serve as a model for me?

Heaven is a Party Town

The Parable of the Prodigal Son is one of three parables that Luke puts together (in Luke 15): The Lost Sheep, The Lost Coin, and The Prodigal Son. A common element in the three parables is the joyful celebration. The shepherd, having brought home his one errant sheep “calls together his friends and his neighbors, saying to them, ‘Rejoice with me, for I have found my sheep which was lost!'” (Luke 15:6). Jesus, who knows well how Heaven is run continues,

I tell you that in the same way, there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who need no repentance.

Luke 15: 7

When the woman finds her one lost coin, she likewise calls together friends for a party. And again, Jesus compares her response to the joyful response in Heaven:

I tell you, there is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner who repents.

Luke 15:10

Then we get to the much longer Parable of the Prodigal Son. By now, we know to equate the earthly father’s response to God’s:

But we had to celebrate and rejoice, for this brother of yours was dead and has begun to live, and was lost and has been found.

Luke 15:32

If God and His angels celebrate small triumphs, can I? Will I? Or does everything have to work out just as I wish in order for me to be happy? Would I be a party pooper in Heaven?

The poem mocks my own severe view of things. Luke was severe. He clearly had high standards for our response to God. But he was careful to record what Jesus said about Heaven’s response to small triumphs: it’s a party town, where music and dancing can clearly be heard even by a resentful older brother standing outside.

Running Out With Time

Commentary

This is a poem I started writing yesterday and finished up this morning. Yesterday, I thought of the phrase, “running out WITH time,” and asked myself how that might upend the notion of “running out OF time.” So, I didn’t know where I was going to go with the poem, but started writing anyway.

In a friend’s Sunday School class several few years ago, the friend asked us all if we thought there would be no time in Heaven. It seemed that my friend and I were the only ones willing to assert, “I don’t know of any reason why time should NOT continue to exist!” It surprised me that we were in the minority on this one.

Where do people get the notion that time will cease to exist in the eternal state? I suspect one source is a spillover of neoplatonism. But take this with a huge grain of salt. To paraphrase Lloyd Bentsen, “I served with a philosopher. I knew a philosopher. A philosopher was a friend of mine. I am no Philosopher.” Regardless, the theory is that people with this thinking lump time in with matter, and therefore consider it unworthy of their ideal, immaterial “Heaven” (a disgusting non-place, if you ask me–I’m looking for the restoration of God’s GOOD creation).

Another possible source is an old translation of Revelation 10:6

And sware by him that liveth for ever and ever, who created heaven, and the things that therein are, and the earth, and the things that therein are, and the sea, and the things which are therein, that there should be time no longer:

Revelation 10:6 KJV

Most modern translations render that along the lines, “that there should be no more delay.”

I ran my poem by a philosopher/theologian this morning, and he assured me that whatever reasons people come up with for saying that there will be no more time in Eternity are a matter of “blindly swallowing [wrong notions of secondary issues] without theological reflection.” Whew (it could have been me)!

Back To The Poem: Time Our Fellow Inmate
Here’s how I got around to using my upended phrase…. It occurred to me that people may think of time as one of life’s evils… that it limits us, perhaps even imprisons us. If so, the answer is to think of time not as the prison, but as a fellow inmate! Someday the prison of current limitations will be torn down. Then we’ll escape our prison cells and joyously run out WITH our fellow inmate, time.

To be continued….

Lord’s Day Vision

As I catch up with posting my poems on this blog, here’s one that I am especially eager to get “out there.” It was written on the day that my dear friend announced that he was resigning as our senior pastor. I had known for a couple of days that this was coming. I knew it was going to be painful. I knew that my friend would have other duties on that Sunday. It was Mother’s Day. This day was not all about him. In his typical humble fashion, he carried off his duties for the morning with graciousness. Then, at the end of the service, after he had concluded by announcing his resignation, I and the other elders stood with him and his wife on the stage and prayed for them. The tears came at last — I was close enough to see. And since I know what lead up to this resignation, it was especially painful for me. Here and there, my friend made strategic errors as a senior pastor. WHO DOESN’T?! But any such errors were dwarfed by his faithfulness to God, by all he had put in motion to make our church a place where shepherding and spiritual growth really happen. Let’s just say that two years of extremely painful personal circumstances were exacerbated by the pandemic and a handful of implacable opponents who made my friend their lightning rod.

My pastor’s benediction that day was the old Anglican “Go into the world in peace….” That afternoon, I took a long walk. This poem came to mind as I walked. Here’s how I introduced it on Facebook:

This poem was the fruit of a tearful Sunday walk. It refers to real friends and real expectations. We live now in a long, painful beginning. Someday, that beginning will have reached its end, in terms of time and purpose. For now, “Go into the world in peace; have courage; hold on to what is good.”

Hope
Do you see the hope? It’s real. There’s something about selflessness that reminds me: Jesus triumphed over the grave. When a brother acts like Jesus, I’m reminded of what Jesus’ actions have put in motion. “Have courage. Hold on to what is good.”

Unfinished Work

I HAVE NOTICED THAT…
In Spring, artists are drawn to Creation.

Commentary

Back when I posted this on Facebook, I wrote, “Please subscribe to my blog, where I give the background of my simple poems like this one, and the more complex ones, the ones even I barely understand!”

“Simple poems like this one,” eh? So it’s over two months later, and I’m getting around to posting this on my blog. How simple was it? Do I remember what I was saying? Well, kinda….

I encountered this artist on Flagpole Hill, and asked her about her technique. Interestingly, she had a lot of dark areas on the canvas, areas whose eventual subject I could SEE, by looking where she was looking: the bright green grass, the shimmering green leaves. These, she began as dark blobs, explaining “I find it easier to start with the darkness as a base, and then apply the lighter colors.”

My poetic response is a reflection on how eternal life has barely begun (“canvas barely stretched”). We don’t understand yet how God will work beauty out of the painful and ugly experiences we now encounter. But we have hope, because we know Him to be a skillful artist.

A Skillful Artist
I went home and looked up this artist (she sells in galleries). I like her finished work. What I saw that afternoon on Flagpole Hill was not a finished work. It is fair to say that if this is all I had seen, I might feel foolish admiring her “technique,” such as it is, in this unfinished work.

Far From Done

My comment on Facebook:

I just wrote about a musician who got better over the years. It felt odd to say of him that with age, he was “increasingly full of promise.” Does language banish Eternity in our hearts?#eternityintheirhearts #ecclesiastes311 #wetmorevalley #westcliffecolorado #poetography

My friend Scott Thibaut posted an insightful comment:

It’s nice to read a poem that recaps the song of Simeon in six lines.

[August 15, 2021 Note]
I recently used this poem to illustrate another post:

NEVER TOO OLD TO GROW
In my 60s, I don’t expect big career developments. But how depressing would it be if I don’t make major headway in spiritual/emotional growth in this decade? Fortunately, I’m surrounded by people who help me in this, including a professional counselor, immediate family who keep me honest, and a wise friend who regularly goes for long walks with me. Is growth painful? Maybe, but not as painful as a long slow slide into futility.

The background image

The background image is part of a photo I took of the Wetmore Valley July 21, 2004. I was staying with my family at Horn Creek Family Camp. In the late afternoon, after suppers, I’d go out driving with the family, as that was the magical time when light was especially interesting and animals were venturing out from the woods.

Poet’s Daydream

Here’s What I Wrote About This

DON’T HATE ME FOR THIS
Almost every day, I take an afternoon nap while listening to music. I try hard then to let my imagination wander free. Often, I think of other artists, and the grasp they have of beauty. I, too, have known beauty. Someday, all of us who know the Author of beauty will have unbridled joy in His creation. Nap time is a good time to savor that hope. In Him, we rest.