Month: July 2012

Commendation

On By Charis PsalloIn Mountains, Water6 Comments

Photo: On the road to Jasper

I will extol you, my God and King,

and bless your name forever and ever.

Every day I will bless you

and praise your name forever and ever.

Great is the Lord, and greatly to be praised,

and his greatness is unsearchable.

 

One generation shall commend your works to another,

and shall declare your mighty acts.

On the glorious splendor of your majesty,

and on your wondrous works, I will meditate.

They shall speak of the might of your awesome deeds,

and I will declare your greatness.

They shall pour forth the fame of your abundant goodness

and shall sing aloud of your righteousness.

(Psalm 145)

In a land of deep shadows -sunbursts of light!

On By Charis PsalloIn Uncategorized3 Comments

Photo: Laughing at the darkness

The people who walked in darkness

have seen a great light.

For those who lived in a land of deep shadows—

light! sunbursts of light!

You repopulated the nation,

you expanded its joy.

Oh, they’re so glad in your presence!

Festival joy!

The joy of a great celebration,

sharing rich gifts and warm greetings.

The abuse of oppressors and cruelty of tyrants—

all their whips and cudgels and curses—

Is gone, done away with, a deliverance

as surprising and sudden as Gideon’s old victory over Midian.

The boots of all those invading troops,

along with their shirts soaked with innocent blood,

Will be piled in a heap and burned,

a fire that will burn for days!

For a child has been born—for us!

the gift of a son—for us!

He’ll take over

the running of the world.

His names will be: Amazing Counselor,

Strong God,

Eternal Father,

Prince of Wholeness.

His ruling authority will grow,

and there’ll be no limits to the wholeness he brings.

He’ll rule from the historic David throne

over that promised kingdom.

He’ll put that kingdom on a firm footing

and keep it going

With fair dealing and right living,

beginning now and lasting always.

The zeal of God-of-the-Angel-Armies

will do all this.

(Isaiah 9:2-7 The Message)

Yarrow and the War of 1812

On By Charis PsalloIn Uncategorized2 Comments

The yarrow has spread like crazy in my garden. It’s an ancient plant known for its ability to help stop bleeding. Achilles carried it into battle for his soldiers. That’s why it’s called achillea and also soldierswort.

In some wars, the battle plan involved maiming as many warriors as possible because caring for the wounded reduced the number of men available to fight. That was before warfare meant dropping bombs on children, before fighting for justice became fighting for personal peace alone and every man for himself became a default position. It was before fear became the commander-in-chief.

I watched a documentary about the War of 1812 in North America this week. The fort in Detroit fell without defending itself because the commander assigned to guard it was terrified of aboriginal Americans. He didn’t realize Tecumseh marched the same group of war-whooping men past his viewpoint five times. After cowering in his room, the guy who was supposed to lead the fight gave up without a fight. He lost the battle in his mind long before any foes showed up.

Since Jesus Christ rose from the dead after teaching his disciples to pray, “Your kingdom come. Your will be done on earth as it is in heaven,” the battle against the father of lies has been over. Christ has already won the victory. The enemy is defeated. Now its a matter of taking back occupied territory and restoring what has been stolen or destroyed. The weapons of this fight are not guns and bombs or fists or even tough negotiation. God’s weapons tear down lies that have kept souls prisoners of fear, those behind prison walls of despair, bereft of hope that healing or change is possible. The greatest battles take place in our minds.

I learned that another battle in the War of 1812 totally failed when troops became confused and started firing on each other. Sometimes people who mean well don’t listen well. In blind panic they start shooting their own. Sometimes, forgetting to ask God for more effective spiritual weapons or better strategies, soldiers leave the wounded behind. There are also those who pick up the weapons of the world and shoot hostages, rather than rescue them. Not-so-friendly-fire.

I wonder if there are more souls wounded by factious denominational tribalism who are crying out for help than ever before. Instead of stopping to care for them, other frightened troops are embarrassed by them. I’ve even heard “experts” say that some of the church-burnt and those wounded in the fight who are bleeding and acting out in pain, ought to be shunned to teach them a lesson. They question if they were ever really on “our side” anyway.

I wonder if most of the “mission field” in the Western world is made up of the casualties of spiritual abuse. Where the spiritual medics? Where are the healers carrying metaphorical yarrow of kindness and goodness to staunch the flow of blood?

Even winners can be wounded in the fight.

Two seemingly disconnected things caught my attention this week. Yarrow is a pretty flower in my garden. The War of 1812 was another of thousands of fruitless, selfish, pointless human skirmishes that accomplished nothing of lasting value. (The Americans captured Toronto, but the Canadians burned Washington, so in the end they simply traded them back.) but maybe we can still learn something from both of them.

The angel of the Lord encamps

On By Charis PsalloIn Mountains, Uncategorized, Water3 Comments

Photo: Campground

I’ve driven right past this campground for years and never noticed it was there until I was so drowsy one day I pulled off the road to take a nap. It was hidden in plain sight. I took this photo from an empty camping spot. There was no one else in the park but maintenance people that day. I love this place. The smells are wonderful and the mountains feel like giant guardian angels keeping out the riff-raff. Apparently angels like camping too 😉

I sought the Lord, and he answered me
    and delivered me from all my fears.
 Those who look to him are radiant,
    and their faces shall never be ashamed.
  This poor man cried, and the Lord heard him
    and saved him out of all his troubles.
  The angel of the Lord encamps
    around those who fear him, and delivers them.

(Psalm 34:4-7)

This is also a prayer and declaration for friends on the other side of the world who face severe persecution this very night. He hears you.

You may feel some discomfort

On By Charis PsalloIn Poetry, Uncategorized5 Comments

Photo: ceramic dome

(Inspired by a Learning Channel video about a Canadian surgeon who taught brain surgery to doctors in a tiny Russian clinic. The patient was required to be conscious in order to participate in the procedure.)

 

You May Feel Some Discomfort

Perhaps I had my eyes closed when your assistants bashed

my horizontal chariot through the swinging doors.

I didn’t see that sign.

Just as well.

If I had known

the surgery you intended to perform

(removing the run-away tumour of mal-formed thought)

required me to be awake for the procedure

I may have searched for an alternate practitioner,

one who would anesthetize me

with framed platitudes hung beside

hand-penned personal testimonies

of painless probes

and joyful function (temporarily) restored.

I would have,

at least,

googled the back pages of ancient pdf-ed medical knowledge,

or youtubed reports of accidental new age discovery,

or followed the links to a parallel universe of  pharmacos deliverance.

I confess to some disrespectful misuse of your name

when the raucous drill began its breakthrough,

(can you really buy those at Walmart?)

but once my thoughts lay open before you

I merely concentrated on

raising my arm

and opening my hand.

Thanks for letting me rest

as you reassembled my humbled dome

(and for being careful to leave room for expansion).

There.

Done.

Invader gone.

Mind renewal.

Thank you, God.

You’re good.

Very good.

Memories in Sepia

On By Charis PsalloIn Black and white, Uncategorized1 Comment

Photo: Sepia roses

I tried my hand at my version of vintage-style photography this week. I like the juxtaposition of something new and fresh encased in a historical frame.

When I was a child I thought the second world war took place in black and white. That idea probably came from watching the old TV show about the war narrated by Walter Cronkhite- the one on Sunday afternoons that started with a big picture of the Rock of Gibraltar. Even as an adult I am surprised when I see photos of the war years in colour.

In a way, I suppose all history is written in black and white. So many colourful nuances are left out of historical accounts. What made masses of regular people believe certain ideas? Why did they choose to make the choices to follow the leaders they did? What made some cultures xenophobic or aggressive or peaceful? Who convinced some that genocide or infant sacrifice or slavery was a good idea? What was going on in the mind of an ordinary woman as she stirred the pottage, or a man as he mended a door hinge?

Historical accounts are rarely accurate, of course, since they are written by the winners and don’t take dissenter’s opinions into account. Dietrich Bonhoeffer, the German theologian who worked behind the scenes (aka a spy) to bring down a regime he saw as evil, is one example of many who opposed what was happening in his country. Current history writers (the winners) remove his traitor status, but that label hung him on the gallows in his own time.

I was on a jury that heard the testimony of thirty-two people who witnessed the same shooting. Amazingly no two versions were the same. When I read newspaper accounts  later I wondered if the reporter and I were at the same trial. His perception of what took place was so different from mine. That month was a dramatic lesson in how people’s minds screened truth. I do believe the majority of witnesses were trying to be factual (although most were seriously drunk at the scene of the crime) but I tended to believe the ones who revealed their own weaknesses, and included details about which way the door opened and not being able to see faces clearly because of back-lighting, rather than the ones who saw themselves as heroes but couldn’t remember if they drove home “after imbibing.”

History, as we are taught it, may not be fully accurate in detail, but it does teach us about patterns and cycles. We are foolish to ignore those patterns. Mark Twain said something like, “History may not repeat itself, but it rhymes.” If the people holed up in David Koresh’ compound in Waco, Texas had known the strikingly similar story of the people holed up in Munster, Westphalia in the 16th century would they have used the same tactics? Would the government sponsored assailants have repeated the same type of seige?  Has anyone noticed the  pattern in history of proclaiming a group of humans “non-persons” in the process of trying to excuse their annihilation? Historically what has happened when people are fed messages of  fear over and over? What has happened when political leaders are more relied upon for safety and provision than God? Why are people surprised when ones they hand power to, expecting them to save us, tend to usurp more power and start acting like gods? (That power corrupts must be one of the most often repeated lessons in history.)

The Bible says to teach your children their history. It includes enough details about the failings and faults of so many characters to make it quite believable to me. Bible heroes were also cowards, adulterers, drunks, thieves, slave masters, perjurers, and power-delusioned wretches like the rest of us. We can learn from them, or we can repeat the same mistakes.

The roses I photographed yesterday will be blown next week. A photo-shopped sepia memory exists, and now that I’ve posted it may be flung out into cyberspace in perpetuity. It’s not exactly how they looked (they were actually softy pink) but they are recognizable as roses –and they have taught me something.

Hidden

On By Charis PsalloIn Uncategorized2 Comments

Photo: Deep in the woods

I’m asking God for one thing,

only one thing:

To live with him in his house

my whole life long.

I’ll contemplate his beauty;

I’ll study at his feet.

 

 That’s the only quiet, secure place

in a noisy world,

The perfect getaway,

far from the buzz of traffic.

( Psalm 27 -The Message)

It just gets better

On By Charis PsalloIn Uncategorized8 Comments

new growth

 

Peggy Lee’s song from the 60’s, “Is that all there is?” came to mind this week when I saw many of my young friends post pictures of graduation and the prom on Facebook. A former grad admitted to me that the whole thing was a little disappointing. After looking forward to it her entire school career as a magical night of glamour and celebration (and possible romance) in the end it was the same old people standing around in expensive, uncomfortable clothes saying and doing the same dorky things they said and did last week –and the week before, and the year before.

Dare we admit that some of the moments we were told would be the highlights of our lives were not all that brilliant? I came away from my high school grad party thinking like Peggy, “Is that all there is?” (Mom worked so hard to put together the perfect evening, but I was not permitted to go to the prom dance and since my dress was a gift, I never got to choose it. The guy I had just broken up with turned up with his fiancée and the last minute substitute escort was called home by his mother because she needed help getting his drunk uncle out of the bath tub.) Even if everything had turned out as planned I think I would have been disappointed.

The problem: I have an imagination.

Sometimes I feel like asking people not to give rave reviews to a movie or book or performance –or even a cleaning product that sounds like heaven by way of a sparkling shower door. I almost wish people hadn’t told me how wonderful life experiences like a wedding or childbirth and breastfeeding or a vacation in Mexico or a standing ovation after a performance were because although there were wonderful moments in all of them, secretly my imagination took liberties went a step further than reality. As great as many experiences have been there was usually a bit of “Is that all there is?” when they were over.

Solomon said it first in the book of Ecclesiastes, the book that epitomizes is-that-all-there-is disappointment and the limits of human’s wisdom and logic. He wrote, “I have seen all the works that are done under the sun; and, behold, all is vanity and vexation of spirit.” and “Eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we die.” (He ends the book of his experiences with this: “Let us hear the conclusion of the whole matter: Fear God, and keep his commandments: for this is the whole duty of man.”)

Peggy’s song repeats Solomon’s observation of vanity:

If that’s all there is my friend, then let’s keep dancing.

Let’s break out the booze and have a ball, if that’s all there is.

Peggy’s song also dared to address fear of the final disappointment:

I know what you must be saying to yourselves.

If that’s the way she feels about it why doesn’t she just end it all?

Oh, no. Not me. I’m in no hurry for that final disappointment.

For I know just as well as I’m standing here talking to you,

when that final moment comes and I’m breathing my last breath, I’ll be saying to myself,

Is that all there is?

Perhaps disappointment is our greatest fear. Perhaps this is what motivates so many sermons and pop theology books. They are less about hope and faith than the pragmatic guarding of our hearts against the possibility of disappointment.  Like King Saul before his first battle we take things into our own hands when it looks like God may not show up in time to make our party a success.

I think the best moments in my life have been surprises:

-coming around a corner on a logging road to see an entire hidden valley of golden tamarack aglow in low evening sun,

-my wee little grandson this week, bringing me a grocery store flyer and pointing to a photo of watermelon to show me what he wanted when he is too young to have the words (Yes, I gave him some.)

-my “barren” daughter announcing her pregnancy

-my precious son, held prisoner in a dark basement of depression, coming up the stairs into the light saying he wanted to be baptized

-my four-year old grandson telling me he had a dream of sitting on Jesus’  lap and being hugged and hugged and hugged

-my husband covering my desk with Lindt chocolates on our fortieth Valentines Day together

-hearing a voice say “Run!” when I was up in the woods praying, then discovering that when I dared to attempt it the asthma and arthritis that had crippled me for so long were gone

-my mother with a broad smile and look of recognition on her face toward someone we could not see as she stepped into eternity from her hospital bed

-and so many more.

I believe this is not all there is. I believe God gives us promises that will not be disappointments. I believe that my imagination will not spoil the surprises he has for me because I am not capable of going a step beyond the greater reality. My imagination is no match for his.

“Is that all there is?”

No! Not by a long shot!

Now to him who by his power within us is able to do far more than we ever dare to ask or imagine—to him be glory in the Church through Jesus Christ for ever and ever, amen! (Ephesians 3:21, 22)

Oh, dear children of mine (forgive the affection of an old man!), have you realised it? Here and now we are God’s children. We don’t know what we shall become in the future. We only know that, if reality were to break through, we should reflect his likeness, for we should see him as he really is! (1 John 1:3)