How Long?

I was wandering through the moonlight a couple nights ago. You know those power poles with the cross bar on top? It's shadow stretched across my path and caught my eye. There, in the silvery light, I saw a cross as I'd never seen one before. I wish you could have seen it too. It was ugly. It was menacing. Yet beautiful, all at the same time. Sometimes I wonder if I even begin grasp the slightest idea of the greatness of God's love.

I keep coming back to this poem ever year. :') It's so poignant.

“How long must I put up with you?” 

Jesus’ actions answered his own question . . . 

Until the rooster sings 

and the sweat stings 

and the mallet rings 

And a hillside of demons smirk at a dying God. 

How long? 

Long enough for every sin 

to soak my sinless soul 

That heaven will turn in horror 

Until my swollen lips pronounce the final transaction: 

“It is finished.” 

How long? 

Until it kills me. 

Max Lucado 

from A Love Worth Giving

Deep Riches

I was shutting down for the night, resting with my Bible in my hand, when a thought struck me: there's nothing like the Bible to put me to sleep. I reflected on this statement; comforted. Then the irony washed over me. As if! 

As if the Bible was light, superficial reading. As if the words of the Majestic One could bore my little mind. As if God's Book is the type that drones on and on until I drift into la la land. As if the Maker of the unimaginable could fail to tickle my finite imagination. As if! 

When I consider God's glory and unlimited power, I wonder how His Word could fail to inspire. Then I look at my weakness, and, well, you know how it goes. For if you are like me, not every verse is a rocket-ride revelation. If you are like me, the Bible lies within reach - and too often, stays there. Exciting things fill my mind. My computer keyboard becomes shiny and polished from use, while my Bible remains shiny and polished from lack of use. Maybe, maybe it is time for a new perspective of God's Word. Perhaps I could fill my mind with a different, singular Exciting Thing. 

I have a quick exercise for you. It will take but a second. Find your Bible and pick it up. Hold it for a moment. Just cradle it in your hands. Please be careful, for you are holding part of God. That binding, those thin pages, most importantly, the words - contain part of God! And since your Bible is in your hands anyway, I'll let you find the origin of this thought: the very first verse of John. Isn't it a miracle that God would trust us with something so precious? 

So, what about those times when God's Word seems rather, I don't know, stale? What do you do when God's love letter stops communicating His love? I'm afraid I haven't found a definite answer either. However, there seems to be a certain mystery about the Bible. After all, aren't God's ways higher than our ways; His thoughts higher than our thoughts? Yet "thus saith the high and lofty One that inhabiteth eternity, whose name is Holy; I dwell in the high and holy place, with him also that is of a contrite and humble spirit, to revive the spirit of the humble, and to revive the heart of the contrite ones." (Isaiah 57:15) For "an highway shall be there...  for wayfaring men, though fools, shall not err therein." (Isaiah 35:8) 

God's Word doesn't have to be complicated. He made it for people like you and me. Read God's Word, because I think He wants and waits to talk to you. In fact, I think that He wants to talk to you so much, He can hardly wait for you to give Him some time. I also believe that in waiting - quietly - for Him, He will speak. Perhaps just a little is enough. For I've begun to view God's Word as the Israelite's manna in the desert: enough sustenance for one day. After that, we get to - get to - have some more. 

Jesus encourages us: "Ask and it shall be given you, seek and ye shall find. Knock and it shall be opened unto you." (Matthew 7:7) Read your Bible. Just start wherever. On second thought, I wouldn't recommend the lists of names in 1 & 2 Chronicles. Then again, knowing God and His surprises... So go, search out His ways. Hang on tightly! It's quite a ride as He reveals "the depth of the riches both of the knowledge and wisdom of God! [for] unsearchable are his judgments, and his ways past finding out!” (Romans 11:30) 

Irony of ironies, as God’s presence fills you, His Word just might lull you to sleep. Whether faith or doubt fill your mind, God's power does not change. Whether a storm is beating against your house or your heart, God’s promises remain the same. Rest in His loving words: “Fear thou not; for I am with thee: be not dismayed; for I am thy God: I will strengthen thee; yea, I will help thee; yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness.” (Isaiah 41:10)

Camaraderie of Literature

I have a delightful, insightful passage to share with you. It comes from the book titled The Master's Violin by Myrtle Reed. An excellent read if there ever was one.

I'm fascinated by the physical book itself. Copyright in 1904, it is over one hundred years old! My mind wanders through the history of this span of time. The paper and binding that I hold in my hand has survived the mistaken glory of World War I. It escaped the perilous, penny-pinching poverty of the Great Depression. Then it soldiered on through the next global conflict: World War II. In fact, it was forty years old by the time the atom publicly unleashed its astronomical power. Danger wasn't past. Its next foe was subtle: consumerism. The post-war economic success ruled: if it's old, junk it and buy a new one. And still it lived on. Today it combats the digital revolution. Liquid crystal is the new paper and binding. And just this morning, it was bombed by cinnamon roll icing. A certain careful reader wasn't quite careful enough.

I love to wonder where this book has been. Whose bookshelf has it sat in? Whose hands have held it? Whose mind delighted in its semi-philosophical lapses? Perhaps someone... No, to begin would only lead further from the paragraphs I am unsuccessfully trying to share.

So here you are:

      "Of the things that make for happiness, the love of books comes first. No matter how the world may have used us, sure solace lies there. The weary, toilsome day drags to its disheartening close, and both love and friendship have proved powerless to appreciate or understand, but in the quiet corner consolation can always be found. A single shelf, perhaps, suffices for one's few treasures, but who shall say it is not enough?

       "A book, unlike any other friend, will wait, not only upon the hour, but upon the mood. It asks nothing and gives much, when one comes in the right way. The volumes stand in serried ranks at attention, listening eagerly, one may fancy, for the command.

     "Is your world a small one, made unendurable by a thousand petty cares? Are the heart and soul of you cast down by bitter disappointment? Would you leave it all, if only for an hour, and come back with a new point of view? Then open the covers of a book.

      "With this gentle comrade, you may journey to the very end of the world and even to the beginning of civilization. There is no land which you may not visit, from Arctic snows to the loftiest peaks of southern mountains. Gallant gentlemen [and ladies, of course ;] will go with you and tell you how to appreciate what you see. Further still, there are excursions into the boundless regions of imagination, where the light of dreams has laid its surpassing beauty over all.

      "Would you wander in company with soldiers of Fortune, and share their wonderful adventures? Would you live in the time of the Crusades and undertake a pilgrimage in the name of the Cross? Would you smell the smoke of battle, hear the ring of steel, the rattle of musketry, and see the colours break into deathly beauty well in advance of the charge? Would you have for your friends a great company of noble men and women who have wrought and suffered and triumphed in the end? Would you find new courage, stronger faith, and serene hope? Then open the covers of a book, and presto - change!"

Sounds a bit like God's Book, doesn't it?

Sky Scrawl

I am sorry that they missed it so completely.

They were inside where the biggest star was the one who could say the funniest things. I happened to be outside where the biggest star was the One who "tells the number of the stars, and calls them all by their names." (Psalm 147:4)

Don't take me wrong. I think relationships are one of the most important, lasting, fulfilling things in life. But like all introverts, I sometimes tire of an incessant cacophony of jokes. Okay, okay, I admit I was slightly miffed. 

It had been overcast all night. I knew what was up there if only the clouds would roll away. I knew it was new moon. I knew the world's greatest light show was happening - only the curtain was still concealing it. So I waited patiently. Well, I thought I knew what was happening. I returned outside. The curtain of cloud had rolled away. 

Awe.

The sky was on its nightly rotation. Millions upon millions of stars. Jupiter, Pleiades, Orion, Sirius, and Cassiopeia arrayed as only they can be. Their friendships seemed deep and ancient, reaching back to "when the morning stars sang together." (Job 38:7)

The ageless beauty always surprises me, but something else was waiting. It was a message. The size of the letters weren't measured by pixels, but by light years. The power of the message wasn't measured by decibels, but amplified by silence. What I saw was a signature - God's signature. 

The magnificent creation was honouring the Creator. The heavens shouted with joy, "Great is the LORD, and greatly to be praised; and his greatness is unsearchable!" (Psalm 145:3) "Worthy is the Lamb that was slain to receive power, and riches, and strength, and honor, and glory, and blessing." (Revelation 5:12)

The glimmering stars scrawled God's everlasting promises across the darkness. God can't help but remind us of His love, "for God is love." (1 John 4:8) Through the silence of His signature, His Word thundered: "I have loved thee with an everlasting love." (Jeremiah 31:3) "Yea, they may forget, yet will I not forget thee. Behold, I have graven thee upon the palms of my hands." (Isaiah 49:15,16) "But now thus saith the LORD that created thee, O Jacob, and he that formed thee, O Israel, Fear not: for I have redeemed thee, I have called thee by thy name; thou art mine." (Isaiah 43:1)

Truly "the heavens declare the glory of God." (Psalm 19:1)



I recently received a book called Indescribable. Its title, ah... describes it rather well. It is packed full of amazing, colourful images of God's universe. If you think science-fiction is crazy, then take a look at reality. This book delves deeply into fascinating details - but not so deeply as to lose you in the vastness of outer-space. Coincidentally, one of the authors related an experience similar to mine, which always intrigues me greatly.

And now I will share two excerpts that impressed me especially.

It would take a jet plane flying from the Sun's surface at 800 km/h well over a month... to reach this star's centre. - Thomas Dubay

Ralph Waldo Emerson once asked what we would do if the stars only came out once every thousand years. No one would sleep that night, of course... We would be ecstatic, delirious, made rapturous by the glory of God. Instead, the stars come out every night and we watch television. - Paul Hawken

Emmanuel's Coming - The Other Perspective

We know the story of Jesus' birth by memory. The stable, the angels, the shepherds, and the wisemen. I have grown up assuming that Jesus was born on a beautiful night. It was wonderfully clear, so you could see the stars. The wind was calm and the air was comfortably cool. The stable, warm and cozy, was a rather neat place for a baby to be born. The animals all around were lowing, or cooing, or making some sort of soothing sound. Baby Jesus slept peacefully in a manger filled with soft, sweet-smelling hay. Plus, he was wrapped securely in swaddling clothes. And we mustn't forget the shepherds. They were nice people - another part of the story.

How deeply have you searched the scriptures for details? The King James Version Bible doesn't give many details - at least not as many as I wrote above. So what would happen if we would peel away the gloss? What would the night of Emmanuel's coming be like when viewed through the opposite perspective?

Neither Matthew nor Luke mention the weather in their descriptions of Nativity. Hardly surprising, since they weren't there. Perhaps it wasn't a beautifully clear night. Perhaps it was a very black, stormy night with a howling wind. Maybe it was cold - abnormally cold - and pelting rain. The shepherds might have at first mistaken the angels' song for the wind shrieking through the trees. No wonder they were terrified.

If Bethlehem was bustling with travelers, what about the stable? No room in the inn likely meant little room in the stable. So the barn wouldn't only have been jam-packed with animals, but, to put it plainly, it would have stunk like crap. How many barns have you been in that don't reek of manure? Then add more animals than there should be...

The ferocious wind would have found every hole in the place, sending chilling drafts everywhere. The wild weather certainly wouldn't have calmed the animals. Instead of standing quietly, they would have been stomping and snorting and uttering all types of unearthly sounds. And the hay. You might like the smell of hay, but since when is it soft? It isn't. It is prickly and pokey, and that's from my perspective, not from the perspective a newborn with tender skin. The manger wouldn't have been sanded smooth and coated with child-safe paint. It made a lousy crib with the possibility of slivers, as well as gaps where a baby could fall through.

Enter the shepherds. Not just shepherds, but shepherds. They cared for sheep, but they weren't refined. They worked hard. They were rough and tough and stank of BO. Socially, they were about as far removed from royalty as could be imagined.

Into this setting, the Majestic One was born.

Perhaps it wasn't pretty. Perhaps to humans, it was degrading. Perhaps it was uncomfortable. Who said Jesus was any more comfortable when He came into this world than when He left it? Perhaps the first noise Jesus made was a cry from the cold, or damp, or noise, or pokey hay, or all of them combined. But He did it anyway. He has been there, done that. The Most Holy became the Most Lowly so He could redeem us from sin. And that shows how much God loves us. Only it is just the beginning; just the tip of the iceberg.

While writing, I have found an interesting correlation with the shepherds. People often wonder why God chose them. Perhaps the key was their humble, unpretentious hearts. Perhaps God used them to showcase His boundless love for everyone, especially those that humans judge as inferior. Whatever the reason, this is what I have found: The first people to hear about the Good Shepherd's birth were... shepherds. 

Scramble! - Flight of Fantasy

I was lost in thought, scrawling a letter to home. The other guys were lazing around, some playing cards, some following suit and communicating. Abruptly, the PA crackles through my thoughts, "Scramble!" Adrenaline surges over my distaste for interruption. Go! The room erupts into organized chaos. Rush! Clamber into my flight suit. Hurry! Gather my gear. Listen to the rest of the announcement. Luftwaffe bomber squadron. Heading towards London. Poor weather. Hurry! No time for nervousness!

A foe to face; a threat to thwart. Find them before they find us. Keep moving! Feet pounding, we rush outside. Poor weather indeed! Downright crazy. Doesn't say much for enemy intelligence. Run! It's black. Gusts of wind whip the chilling drizzle into my face. Shiver. My heart is chanting, Hur-ry, hur-ry, hur-ry! Jump a puddle. Watch a fellow pilot slip-splosh through the next. Keep running! Panting, I reach my trusty Hurricane. The ground crew is working like clockwork. Going double time. Don't slip on the ladder! Keep moving! Before sliding my canopy shut, the eerie wail of the air raid sirens begins. It duets with the singing wind. No time to waste! My aircraft's engine drowns the symphony while I methodically plough through my checklist. Hurry! Not too fast! Focus! Ignore the clammy cold. Dry the splattered goggles.

Through the gloom, we taxi to the runway. Go! Find the enemy! And I'm off. No! Stay on the runway! I fight the invisible, gusting wind. Away! My aeroplane dips and slips through the tumbling air. Spinning, rushing rain disorientates me. Fly blind! Maintain airspeed! A drop, a twist, and I break through the low clouds, trading my sightless world for something other-worldly. The moon glares on the twisting, angry carpet of clouds. I bounce as it glints off the dark enemy formations. To work! The scramble is over - successful. Less urgency, but I remain, as ever, intensely alert. 

"Bomben weg! Dies ist nicht das, was man dachte, es sei!" My head jerks; so fast my neck pops. The blast of guttural radio communication dies away. Scrape my frenzied heart off the canopy and stuff it back where it belongs. Sometimes the radio frequencies do that. 

Perhaps I shall get down in one piece. Or even two pieces. Then the adrenaline will be past. Then I can escape from this eerily insane game of chess. And I can finish my interrupted letter.

-----

A flight of fantasy. Start with a stormy evening. Drive places in a hurry. Throw in some World War II "memories." An over-active, inquisitive imagination weaves all manner of exciting worlds.

God Heals

Exactly one month till Christmas! Christmas songs, excitement, gifts, and goodies, here I come!

Below are a couple of paragraphs by Max Lucado that rang true with me. It isn't the prayer that delivers you, it is the One to whom you pray.

We know that in everything God works for the good of those who love him. Romans 8:28 

Prayer isn’t what heals us. God heals, not prayer. A matter of semantics? No. If you think the power is in the prayer and not the One who hears the prayer, you fault the pray-er for unanswered prayer. If I had prayed more, better, differently.  It’s a depressing cycle. 

Don’t assume that the faithful will never suffer. 

Remember that Peter was in a storm before he walked on water. Lazarus was in a grave before he came out of it. In Matthew 26:39, Jesus himself prayed to be delivered from earthly pain. Please don’t interpret the presence of your disease as the absence of God’s love. I pray he heals you. And he will, ultimately.

Your and My Romances

Are you enjoying your romance with God? Read it again: Your. Ro. Mance. With. God.

Romance stories aren't unfamiliar to any of us. Most likely, we've all imagined ourselves as one of the lovers in a book. Or perhaps you like someone particularly much. (Be honest with yourself ;) Your thoughts drift towards them. You worry about them, can't wait to talk to them, and wish to know them better. You desire to share their glowing laughter and sorrowing pain. They fascinate you, and if you could, you'd spend all day with them. Or perhaps the rest of your life.

Is this your perspective of God?

The Bible supplies us with plenty of analogies to our relationship with God and Jesus: Father, Brother, the Good Shepherd, Friend. It uses the analogy of a bride and bridegroom to the church and Jesus. But for God and you to be lovers?

You were honest before, so I'll be honest now. Like all relationships, my relationship with God has all manners of ups and downs. As much as I wish I could say there aren't any downs, I can't. One thing I can say, however: He has never been the one to drift away. A few other points. God doesn't need me to worry about Him. And while I haven't carried much of His sadness, He certainly has carried mine. I want to share His laughter and know Him better. I'm fascinated by His majesty, love, mercy, and wisdom. I- I think I'd like to spend the rest of my life with Him. I have a sneaking suspicion it won't be a boring romance.

Something New

Dare the precipice of Something New.
Tread the edge, flirt with the ledge,
Stand where you’ve never stood before.
Let the wind whip
Past the treacherous lip
But don’t let slip
Till preparation and consideration are past.
Then brace yourself
And-
        P
          L
          U
          N
          G
          E
          !
Overload!
Up is down, left is right
Disorientation reigns your flight
Catch your stomach as it floats past
Flip-flop through free fall - fast!
Spin, spiral, swooping motion,
Solid ground is just a notion
Perhaps,
Perhaps your plunge won’t ever stop
Dizzy firmament, underneath, on top
So
Settle back on nothingness
Capture the view of upside down
Mesmerized in light-years sped
Enjoy your gently mangled head
From touchdown.
Touchdown! Congratulations on your survival!
No clean pants needed upon arrival
Expectations hardly met!
But you know what?
Something New wasn’t half bad!

Faded Rose

This is one of those "back-burner" thoughts. I've thought it strange that people would study a person that has died, finding out about their life, and maybe even idolizing them.

I've been thinking about my late grandfather, William Isaac. I have faint memories of him, but he died before I really got to know him. However, as I've gathered details of his life, I've become quite fascinated. And disappointed, too, that I couldn't have known him better. From what I've heard, he was different, and not in a bad way. He and Grandma always had time to listen to people. He was given first class service at the local china store because he would buy. He loved to give china to Grandma. He was an expert gardener. His favourite flower was a yellow rose; yellow because that was one colour that his colour-blindness didn't cheat him on. As Grandma's vision failed, he was the one that would cook for them. He replaced his Bibles not because he misused them or misplaced them, but because they actually wore out. 

I've found connections between his interests and my interests. I love skating, and my mom says that he was a wiz on skates. Biking was his favourite type of exercise, just as it is for me. I love to sing and so did he. He led songs until his hearing made it difficult to understand selections from the benches. He enjoyed writing and was a skilled writer, especially of poems. I find poetry difficult to conquer, but it doesn't stop me from enjoying writing. I think I get my "Isaac" walking posture from him as well. But best of all, he served the same God I do. By faith, I will see him again someday. 

Not surprisingly, people haven't mentioned his faults. I doubt he was faultless, but my fascination continues. So I want to say something to all of you that can still speak to your grandparents: get to know them, or get to know them better. And love them especially much for me.