Mid-winter’s Day

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Do you remember the story of the ant and the grasshopper? It’s a fable by Aesop about an ant who worked hard storing up provision for the winter and a grasshopper who danced the summer away.  It is a tale meant to teach a moral, and it does.  Don’t waste the good times because hard times are a-coming. I wonder if we can say the same about not wasting hard times?

My husband pointed out that today is mid-winter, halfway point between winter solstice and the vernal equinox. (I’ve never heard of a play titled “A Mid-winter Night’s Dream” have you?) Obviously the hay is not growing much in these fields near our home and the snow is a bit deep for dancing. Since I am not fond of winter sports and in my lifetime have broken three bones slipping on the ice, I have to work on my attitude toward winter.

The blue-tinged snow and mountains are pretty, I’ll grant you that. In an effort to be always thankful I have also noticed that winter also tends to be the most productive time in my life as far as getting caught up with paperwork, writing, studying, sewing, mending, and inside house repairs are concerned. It’s a time for planning gardens and perusing seed catalogues. It’s a time of waiting and preparing for prosperity. Apparently the Hebrew word for waiting has at its root a picture of braiding a rope. Farmers, fishermen, artisans, and folk festival musicians all need time to get their acts together. Sitting by the fire braiding rope is a good picture of this.

We have been taught to think that we must use good times to prepare for hard times, but I wonder if hard times are not there to help us prepare for good times. Prosperity can be even more difficult to manage well than want. Some, like the ant, live in fear and cannot allow themselves to dance when the evenings are warm. Others, like the grasshopper, accomplish nothing more with their abundance than spending it on their own pleasure. Very few who find themselves with abundance in the form of power know how to handle it wisely — thus the expression, “Power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely.”

I believe the Lord prepares his most trustworthy servants with long seasons of harsh winter to get them to the place where they don’t need sunshine and flowers to live in a place of contented joy. They will not be dependent on ideal circumstances to allay their fears or give them freedom to dance.

For those trained by adversity to trust in God, every day is a beautiful day.

Panorama

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I was driving through a horizontal Southern Alberta rain shower when I felt the urge to explore. There, near the bridge over the Old Man River on the Cowboy Trail (Highway 22) a road I had never taken beckoned. I had no deadline to get home, so I turned left onto the gravel road and followed it. When I reached the other side of the valley I looked back and this is what I saw.

I’m not a detail person -which means that I don’t handle details easily. I get trapped in the minutiae of the day. I have to keep lists and the bullets points form a kind of map to help me find my way back out. I can easily lose sight of where all the details lead.

When I get bogged down in a problem and start obsessing about things that don’t make sense to me, I hear Abba telling me to take a step back and see the bigger picture. I’ve been in that bog many times over the years, questioning the “right” way to do Christianity. When too many questions start to involve the word “should” He draws me away from the arguments to go for a walk with Him.

“Step back,” He says. “Look at the greater panorama, the big picture, the one that started before your lifetime and will go on until eternity. Look carefully and as far in any direction that you can. Can you perceive my voice has called all of it into existence? The story of gospel of Christ did not start in Bethlehem and end with an empty tomb outside Jerusalem. The gospel is written in every molecule, and every detail proclaims the glory of my Word. My Word will not return to Me void. It will accomplish my purpose -eternally.”

Genesis 1

In the beginning, God created everything: the heavens above and the earth below.

Here’s what happened: 

At first the earth lacked shape and was totally empty, and a dark fog draped over the deep while God’s spirit-wind hovered over the surface of the empty waters.

Then there was the voice of God.

John 1
Before time itself was measured, the Voice was speaking.

The Voice was and is God.

This celestial Word remained ever present with the Creator;

His speech shaped the entire cosmos.

Immersed in the practice of creating,
all things that exist were birthed in Him.

His breath filled all things
with a living, breathing light—

A light that thrives in the depths of darkness,
blazes through murky bottoms.

It cannot and will not be quenched.

The Voice was and is God.

The Voice took on flesh and became human and chose to live alongside us.

We have seen Him, enveloped in undeniable splendor

—the one true Son of the Father

—evidenced in the perfect balance of grace and truth.

(from The Voice)

Bind Me Not

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“Bind me not to the pasture

Chain me not to the plow

Set me free to find my calling

And I’ll return to you somehow…”

from Homeward Bound by Marta Keen

A Thin Silence

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I can’t hear normally right now. A nasty cold has tormented my sinuses for almost a month and has now taken up residence in my ears. For several days my left ear has not been giving my brain the usual messages. Voices on the phone sound like they are coming through a kazoo on the other side of a heavy door. I can’t hear the sound of my feet on the trail, or the wind in the trees. At the same time normal noises are painfully loud.  I avoid nerve-jarring distorted noise at the level of normal conversation, and run from loud sounds that feel like a slap to the ears, yet I strain to hear the quiet things, like the little ping that tells me I have a message on my cell phone. I feel like I am shut up inside my own head (where the sound of chewing my breakfast crunchies is like giant aliens devouring some hapless metropolis in a sci-fi flick.)

What an odd and uncomfortable feeling – especially for someone whose lifestyle has focused on hearing the fine nuances of music for so many years. It’s taking its sweet time clearing up, this wretched infection, but in the meantime maybe there is something to be learned (or un-learned) even in this.

I thought about Elijah’s still small voice experience again today. After a tremendous victory on Mount Carmel in which the Lord rained down fire, and sent the rains at his request, he ran from the ugly threatening voice of the King’s wife. He ran all the way back to the place where Moses has his trumpet blast and fire on the mountain experience.

There he came to a cave and lodged in it. And behold, the word of the Lord came to him, and he said to him, “What are you doing here, Elijah?” 

He said, “I have been very jealous for the Lord, the God of hosts. For the people of Israel have forsaken your covenant, thrown down your altars, and killed your prophets with the sword, and I, even I only, am left, and they seek my life, to take it away.” 

And he said, “Go out and stand on the mount before the Lord.”

And behold, the Lord passed by, and a great and strong wind tore the mountains and broke in pieces the rocks before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind.  And after the wind an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake. And after the earthquake a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire.

And after the fire the sound of a low whisper [or a sound, a thin silence]

And when Elijah heard it, he wrapped his face in his cloak and went out and stood at the entrance of the cave.(1 Kings 19, 11 -13 ESV)

I think it was straining to hear a soft voice today that reminded me of the story. When I looked up the Hebrew words describing this “still, small voice” I found it was stiller and smaller than I thought. It was still like a calm sea after a storm. It was small like a particle of dust, less than a hair’s breadth, barely perceptible — except to a prophet who recognized it.

David wrote that the voice of the Lord thunders. Sometimes we can hear Him loud and clear. Moses and the children of Israel certainly did, and it scared most of them half to death. But sometimes his voice can only be heard in thin silence.

In thin silence there are no other sounds competing for attention. No other voices playing anything-you-can-preach-I-can-preach-louder – and which then add electronic amplification.

In thin silence we are forced to lean in closer, to wait for a particle of sound, the Voice that speaks in stillness.

Spiritual Claustrophobia

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I learned something about myself yesterday. When the doctor set up the MRI appointment she asked if I was claustrophobic. I said no and I thought it was an accurate answer. Apparently I lied. During the procedure I ran through my entire repertoire of meditation, positive visualization, prayer for others and calming songs in my head… Looks like I’m due for an upgrade. I tried not to think about the reason for being there, and I did endure to the end (including re-takes, because breathing too hard apparently jiggles your head -even when it is stuck in a cage) although I didn’t exactly hold on to peace.

The tiny logical side of my brain (the part that required state-of-the-art machinery to find) could scrounge up some attitude of gratitude that a mobile unit with such fine diagnostic equipment was available in our town, and that I live in a country where having pre-existing (Is that like time travel?) condition and (technically) being unemployed didn’t put the cost of medical insurance out of reach.

But logic alone didn’t cut it when I was so squished in that tube that I had cleavage up to my chin (or maybe that’s just where I folded) and my head was held rigidly in a cage with warm sponges on either side of my face like an visiting auntie’s unwelcome embrace.

I sang “You are My Hiding Place” (in my head) and I thought about being safe in a cocoon, and even imagined Jesus holding me tightly in  a loving hug. But honestly, it wasn’t long before I felt like yelling, “Jesus! Let go –now !”

I was only about 15 minutes into a 45 minute procedure at this point. I squeezed my eyes shut and decided to visualize the opposite instead. Wide open fields, with lots of sky. I pictured myself flinging my arms wide and dancing. Instead of restriction I imagined latitude, expansion, immensity –freedom.

Hey! I made it. (Although the technician noted, as he pulled me out, “You didn’t like that much, did you?”)

I prayed for him a lot while I was in there. The Bible says to pray for those who spitefully use you. He’ll probably get a new car.

 

I am learning that when I am in a tight spot without good solutions (quite literally this time) it is often because the Lord wants to give me an upgrade so I can better understand who he is and who I am and what he has for me -by showing me what’s missing. I’m learning to say, “Well, that sucks. What do you want to do instead, Lord?”

I was in no danger in the MRI machine. There was fresh air blowing in and the technician hovered only a few feet away. I could hear him on an intercom so I could talk to him and demand to be removed if it came to that. He told me instant removal is not an unusual request.

So, processing this experience later, I asked the Lord what that was all about. The old song, There’s a Wideness in God’s Mercy, started playing in my head.

Then the thought came: The reason I had to be under such restriction was because all this technology was focusing on finding what is wrong with me.

It hit me. Sometimes we need to focus on a problem so we can be aware of it and take steps to fix it — and it’s not a comfortable experience. But sometimes we can become so introspective, so perfectionist, so merciless, so restricted by the traditional constructs of this-is-the-way-it-is-done that we can’t move. We have no elbow room, no vision, no freedom. Sometimes religious practices that major on striving to be better by finding and rooting out all impurities end up feeling like being in an MRI machine week after week, month after month, year after year, and the end result is that we are more conscious of our sin than we are of the freedom we have in Christ. We become dependent on an institution or a mediator to point out our sin so we can do a mea culpa self-flagellating kind of repentance that keeps us restricted to a tiny sphere of influence. Without a vision beyond the confines of our own making, we, at best, merely endure.

Abba seems to be talking to me about grace a lot lately. I think I’ve got it, but then he says, “There is more! There is more, more, more than you have ever imagined! There is wideness in My mercy. I give you latitude.”

With both feet planted firmly on love, you’ll be able to take in with all followers of Jesus the extravagant dimensions of Christ’s love. Reach out and experience the breadth! Test its length! Plumb the depths! Rise to the heights! Live full lives, full in the fullness of God.God can do anything, you know—far more than you could ever imagine or guess or request in your wildest dreams! He does it not by pushing us around but by working within us, his Spirit deeply and gently within us. (Ephesians 3 The Message paraphrase))

The first thing I did when I was pulled out of that machine was to stretch my arms and go outside where I could see the sky. Freedom feels wonderful.

 

I was going through photos looking for something else last night, when this one caught my eye. I took it near a place called Longview.

 

Pioneer: When you can’t stay here

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There’s a wilderness pathway, and it’s calling you…

Pioneer, Pioneer
Keep pressing onward beyond your fear
Only the Father goes before you to your own frontier
Youʼre a Pioneer

Uncharted wilderness stretches before you
And you thrive on going where no one has gone
Still it gets lonely when darkness deepens
So sing by the fire until the dawn

Pioneer, Pioneer
Keep pressing onward beyond your fear
Only the Father goes before you to your own frontier
Youʼre a Pioneer

You travel light, and you travel alone
And when you arrive nobody knows
But the Father in heaven, He is glad you can go,
For those who come after you will need the road

Pioneer, Pioneer
Keep pressing onward beyond your fear
Only the Father goes before you to your own frontier
Youʼre a Pioneer

And what you have done, others will do
Bigger and better and faster than you
But you canʼt look back; no, you gotta keep pressing through
Thereʼs a wilderness pathway and itʼs calling you

Calling you, calling you clear
Keep pressing onward, you can’t stay here…
Only the Father goes before you to your own frontier
Youʼre a Pioneer

Only the Father goes before you to your own frontier
Youʼre a Pioneer

-Nancy Honeytree

Green

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The whole earth sprouts newness and life in the springtime,
and green shoots break through the well-seeded garden soil.
That’s what it is like with the Eternal’s victory—
the Lord will cause justice and praise to sprout up before all the nations,
for all peoples to see.
(Isaiah 61:11)

Ain’t It Good to Know That You’ve Got a Friend

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June is the usually rainiest month in this part of the world. Combined with melting snow pack in the mountains it can be a dangerous season. When dire predictions of more flooding were broadcast on various media this week part of this song started playing in my head:

If the sky above you should turn dark and full of clouds
and that old north wind should begin to blow,
keep your head together and call My name out loud.
Soon I will be knocking upon your door.
You just call out My name, and you know where ever I am
I’ll come running to see you again.
Winter, spring, summer, or fall, all you have to do is call and I’ll be there.

Hey, ain’t it good to know that you’ve got a Friend?

People can be so cold.
They’ll hurt you and desert you.
Well, they’ll take your soul if you let them,
oh yeah, but don’t you let them.

You just call out My name, and you know where ever I am
I’ll come running to see you again.
Winter, spring, summer, or fall,
all you have to do is call, “Lord!”
I’ll be there, yeah, yeah,
you’ve got a Friend.
You’ve got a Friend.
Ain’t it good to know you’ve got a Friend.

Ain’t it good to know you’ve got a Friend.
Oh, yeah, yeah, you’ve got a Friend.

(You’ve got a Friend by James Taylor and Carole King)

 

There is more than one kind of storm. Sometimes people have no idea of the kind of storms that rage inside  our hearts. A line in another old song talks about “fightings within and fears without”  and yet, “just as I am, I come” to the Lover of my soul.

Calling out for help is not always easy, particularly for those of us who don’t want to admit we need help.

I looked at the dark clouds. I  called. He answered.

The rain was heavy, and there was some flooding, but nothing as serious as was predicted.

I looked at the raging storm within. I called. He answered.

Peace returned.

Yes, it’s good to have a Friend.

Thank you.

Actually

 

What if God is actually who he said he is?

What if you are actually who he says you are?

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God has placed a promise and a provision next to every difficulty. When we locate the tribulation, we uncover the revelation that is also present. We stand on the promise, looking at the provision and we rejoice! As we “count it all joy,” [James 1:2] the truth becomes our experience and we are set free. -Graham Cooke

We all live off his generous bounty,
        gift after gift after gift.
    We got the basics from Moses,
        and then this exuberant giving and receiving,
    This endless knowing and understanding—
        all this came through Jesus, the Messiah.
    No one has ever seen God,
        not so much as a glimpse.
    This one-of-a-kind God-Expression,
        who exists at the very heart of the Father,
        has made him plain as day.

(John1:16-18 The Message)