The slow advance of the day’s light finds me sitting inside the warmth of the coffee shop while outside, the snow blows sideways, adding to the night’s accumulation of winter. The coming semester looms over one’s thoughts as preparations for the horde of students returning to campus are just around the corner. The inclement weather had forced me to remain home, hunkering down by the fireplace, trying to stay warm. In the solitude, there was the sense of finding a footing on the being God created within me. Too often, we get caught up in the hustle of the world, chasing after those elusive goals and dreams, only to find we become lost in their deceptive approval of our existence. It’s not until we, either of our own will or it is forced upon us by some natural phenomena, step aside for a moment and let the snowflakes fall in the snow globe of life, settling where they may and then peering upon the landscape so beautifully adorned by her mantle of white.
“The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters. He restores my soul.”
May you find time to ponder life’s journey somewhere in God’s word and be patient as he restores your soul. If possible, find a nice warm fire to repose by as you read a good book in the leisure of your own blessings and succumb to knowing that you are wonderfully made – may you ponder those things in your heart for the remainder of this snowy day.
“I can’t add more days to my life, so I’ll add more life to my day.”
– “Life to My Days”, Doyle Lawson and Quicksilver.
Sitting here this morning and thinking about the year’s end and time, a thought crossed my mind. If we knew the day we would die, how much more would we strive to live each day leading up to that fateful moment? Would we plan a going-away party? Would we spend all that we own so that there would be nothing left, like someone stranded in the desert, draining the last drop of water from their canteen? It certainly would put a Life Insurance salesperson out of a job. One might guess where this thread is going, but for a minute, let me look at another aspect of this thought that has permeated through the din.
Be the Light – Lux Lucet in Tenebris
Taking this concept a step further, what if there were restrictions set by the government as to when that date would be when your time here on earth would end? As we face what seems to be a paralysis of life through the relentless fear of Covid, a term known as “Ageism” begins to creep into my thinking. According to Miriam-Websters, Ageism is defined as “prejudice or discrimination against a particular age-group and especially the elderly.”
Why, you ask, would you think of that?
Looking forward, one can see where authorities have already started dictating who is most essential or groups that are high risk and that these are the ones that should receive the first doses of the Covid vaccine. While on the surface, this seems purely logical, you might want to ask, “Who gets to decide, and is it the same everywhere?” Take this idea a few steps farther, and you might begin to see the reason for my concern. Will we someday be asked to voluntarily end our lives for the greater good, or will we be dismissed from receiving a life-saving vaccine for the sake of allowing the more essential to live? If we are asked to volunteer, will it be to save the greater good, or will it merely be to escape? One must consider these ethical questions when our leaders begin to make decisions that are out of our control.
Ageism is not a new ideology. Several themes in literature and movies to which predetermined ages were set for humans come to mind. Like the movie Logan’s Run or the short story, Law of Life, by Jack London, societal restrictions imposed term limits, so to speak, on how old humans were allowed to live. The principle is that the elderly would eventually become a burden to society. Finding a way to eliminate them, either through voluntary choice or government-imposed regulations, became the accepted fate in these literary pieces. In Logan’s Run, some awakened to this horrific belief and rebelled. In the latter work by Jack London, the reader is left to decide if the choice was detrimental or a matter of preservation of the tribe – thus preserving the greater good.
Going back to one of the two extremes, either volunteerism or authoritarian imposition, the movie Soylent Green brought to light the former. When Sol Roth (Edward G. Robinson in his final film role) had seen enough, he went to the assisted-suicide facility known as “Home”. His friend, and star of the movie, Thorn, played by Charlton Heston, watched in the control room as his friend experienced his requested ending. As written in the article from the web page, “Greatest Movie Death Scenes, the author describes how the movie portrayed Sol’s end. “He had chosen a poignant, painless and suicidal death in the euthanasia clinic’s chamber. He was put to rest (to “go home”) with orange-hued lighting, classical music playing (Tchaikovsky’s “Pathetique” Symphony No. 6, Beethoven’s “Pastoral” Symphony No. 6, and segments of Grieg’s “Peer Gynt Suite”) and projected video (of a peaceful and “beautiful” green Earth ages ago when animal and plant life thrived and there was no pollution).”[1]
You see, my friend, when we begin to go down the path of worldly existence, we face an end where we feel we are either forced to choose or accept a fate administered by others. But there is another option that I began with before this chasing of the rabbit down his proverbial hole. We have a choice to live this existence without fear of being terminated before our natural being is finished. We have the option to choose a life where the end is up to us – albeit not one of a sad mortality, but rather, a new beginning.
As Jesus told his disciples, “The thief cometh not, but for to steal, and to kill, and to destroy: I am come that they might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly.”[2]Again and again, Christ told all that would listen, “that whosoever believeth in my shall have eternal life.” When we believe and follow Jesus, we can’t help but realize our true calling and the reason for our very existence on this earth. We are not simply another body taking up space, consuming resources that others might need more than us. We are here to be a light for those around us. The greater we share that light with others, the more intensely we serve. When we finally understand this purpose for which we have been made, we finally begin to see how each day is precious. As if we were opening that surprise gift we had always wanted, we should awaken each day as if it were our last.
While we say goodbye to another year, somewhere, someone has just given up hope in tomorrow. Somewhere another has decided they cannot go on living in a world in which there are no freedoms, further lock-downs, and the threat of increased government crackdowns for the sake of the greater good. Some are saying 2020 was the worst year of their lives, but some have never had a good year – ever. It is these people, those that are genuinely lost, those without hope, those that you don’t even realize have given up; these are the ones that you must strive to think of the words to the son, “I can’t add more days to my life, but I can add more life to my day.”
May your New Year’s resolution be to be the light for those around you and for those whom you have never met, nor may never meet. Sing from the mountain tops, shout it from the deepest valleys, Jesus Christ is the true salvation – Believe in Him and find that your eternal life begins when this life ends.
Looking forward, one can see where authorities have already started dictating who is most essential or groups that are high risk and that these are the ones that should receive the first doses of the Covid vaccine. While on the surface, this seems purely logical, you might want to ask, “Who gets to decide, and is it the same everywhere?” Take this idea a few steps farther, and you might begin to see the reason for my concern. Will we someday be asked to voluntarily end our lives for the greater good, or will we be dismissed from receiving a life-saving vaccine for the sake of allowing the more essential to live? If we are asked to volunteer, will it be to save the greater good, or will it merely be to escape? One must consider these ethical questions when our leaders begin to make decisions that are out of our control.
Ageism is not a new ideology. Several themes in literature and movies to which predetermined ages were set for humans come to mind. Like the movie Logan’s Run or the short story, Law of Life, by Jack London, societal restrictions imposed term limits, so to speak, on how old humans were allowed to live. The principle is that the elderly would eventually become a burden to society. Finding a way to eliminate them, either through voluntary choice or government-imposed regulations, became the accepted fate in these literary pieces. In Logan’s Run, some awakened to this horrific belief and rebelled. In the latter work by Jack London, the reader is left to decide if the choice was detrimental or a matter of preservation of the tribe – thus preserving the greater good.
Going back to one of the two extremes, either volunteerism or authoritarian imposition, the movie Soylent Green brought to light the former. When Sol Roth (Edward G. Robinson in his final film role) had seen enough of the chaos in the world he lived. Deciding to end it all, he went to the assisted-suicide facility known as “Home”. His friend, and star of the movie, Thorn, played by Charlton Heston, watched in the control room as his friend experienced his requested ending. As written in the article from the web page, “Greatest Movie Death Scenes, the author describes how the movie portrayed Sol’s end. “He had chosen a poignant, painless and suicidal death in the euthanasia clinic’s chamber. He was put to rest (to “go home”) with orange-hued lighting, classical music playing (Tchaikovsky’s “Pathetique” Symphony No. 6, Beethoven’s “Pastoral” Symphony No. 6, and segments of Grieg’s “Peer Gynt Suite”) and projected video (of a peaceful and “beautiful” green Earth ages ago when animal and plant life thrived and there was no pollution).”[1]
[1] Greatest Movie Death Scenes, Soylent Green (1973),https://www.filmsite.org/bestdeaths20.html
You see, my friend, when we begin to go down the path of worldly existence, we face an end where we feel we are either forced to choose or accept a fate administered by others. Sadly, the movie Soylent Green focused on the natural world and disregarded the spiritual. In the 70’s when the movie first aired, I had yet to enter the walk of faith on which I trod today. The scene of Sol slowing dying as he watched the old world, the one he once knew in his younger years, pass away. To my teenage mind, it was heart-wrenching. Had the movie looked at the end from a Christian lens, Sol never would have been at the “Home” to start with. But if he had been coerced, forced to end his life, the beauty that played before him would have only been a prelude to what was to come.
Yes, there is another option that I began with before this chasing of the rabbit down his proverbial hole. We have a choice to live this existence without fear of being terminated before our natural being is finished. We have the option to choose a life where the end is up to us – albeit not one of a sad mortality, but rather, a new beginning.
As Jesus told his disciples, “The thief cometh not, but for to steal, and to kill, and to destroy: I am come that they might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly.”[2]Again and again, Christ told all that would listen, “that whosoever believeth in my shall have eternal life.” When we believe and follow Jesus, we can’t help but realize our true calling and the reason for our very existence on this earth. We are not simply another body taking up space, consuming resources that others might need more than us. We are here to be a light for those around us. The greater we share that light with others, the more intensely we serve. When we finally understand this purpose for which we have been made, we finally begin to see how each day is precious. As if we were opening that surprise gift we had always wanted, we should awaken each day as if it were our last.
While we say goodbye to another year, somewhere, someone has just given up hope in tomorrow. Somewhere another has decided they cannot go on living in a world in which there are no freedoms, further lock-downs, and the threat of increased government crackdowns for the sake of the greater good. Some are saying 2020 was the worst year of their lives, but some have never had a good year – ever. It is these people, those that are genuinely lost, those without hope, those that you don’t even realize have given up; these are the ones that you must strive to think of the words to the son, “I can’t add more days to my life, but I can add more life to my day.”
May your New Year’s resolution be to be the light for those around you and for those whom you have never met, nor may never meet. Sing from the mountain tops, shout it from the deepest valleys, Jesus Christ is the true salvation – Believe in Him and find that your eternal life begins when this life ends.
Thanks be to God.
May your New Year’s resolution be to be the light for those around you and for those whom you have never met, nor may never meet. Sing from the mountain tops, shout it from the deepest valleys, Jesus Christ is the true salvation – Believe in Him and find that your eternal life begins when this life ends.
Thanks be to God.
[1] Greatest Movie Death Scenes, Soylent Green (1973),https://www.filmsite.org/bestdeaths20.html
“So teach us to number our days, that we may apply
our hearts unto wisdom.”-Psalm 90:12
Outside the Retreat, the pitter-patter of raindrops falls
gently upon the rooftop. The sound is soothing to one’s soul and adds a sense
of tranquility to the ambiance within. Inside, the fire warms my body, removing
the damp chill from the outside. Reflectively, I sip on the hot drink while peering
into the red-hot coals. The flames dance around in their anguished throttled
roar while the occasional pop and hiss remind you that the scene before you is
real. My mind drifts, like the puffs of smoke up the chimney, thinking of friends
and colleagues of my former days.
Many faces come and go in the swirl of steam up the chimney,
like their lives, several now gone, passed on. Each individual remains with me,
each with their own story, each with a remnant of who they were left behind
with my own being. My good friend, Vance
Dunn, who recently passed, came to mind, as he so often does. He would have
dearly loved the opportunity to sit with me by the fire and discuss the many
thoughts that would bounce into our heads as we supped on our warm brews. On
one particular road trip, whereby we were headed to training as part of our Junior
Appalachian Musicians (JAM) affiliation, we spent the several hour drive to the
mountains doing just that; talking in-depth about everything and anything that
popped into the stream of our conscious thought. One specific conversation that
returned to me this morning was our animated discussion about vocabulary and
the word “regardless” versus “irregardless.”
Vance loved to latch onto something and then to pull it back
into the conversation, again and again. His observation, and probably the
meaning behind the reason for which the word that percolated to the top of our
discussion that day, was how many in the world of academia often try to sound
more important than they are by the use of grammar that is either incorrect or
absurdly unnecessary; thus, the word “irregardless.” Many
scholars maintain there is no such word as irregardless because regardless already means “without
regard.”[1]
Vance had an extreme disdain for professors or teachers who spoke down to their
students.
The Apostle Paul would write, “For if a man think himself
to be something, when he is nothing, he deceiveth himself.”[2]
Paul’s intention was to say more simply, “Don’t try to pretend to be something
you’re not.”
Now Vance had
every right with which to speak in such terms. Having been a scientist at NASA,
he dealt with and helped train many of their engineers and researchers over the
years. He had worked with many a person that felt their position in life was
enough to warrant them respect simply by their title. Yet, he would share with
me that those who walked humbly in that regard had far more impact on those
with whom they dealt than the former. Vance’s intellect was far beyond what I
could hope to ever achieve. In essence, he was, at least to me, a true genius.
He never tried to be superior when we talked, but rather, would humor me in
meaningful terms so that we would traverse life from one end of the spectrum to
the other, regardless of who was listening. Once we started, when time allowed,
we would literally carry on with our own geekish comical relief, much to the
disdain of those that were within earshot, for hours. He conveyed to me on this
day how “irregardless” wasn’t really a real word, but rather something people
would utter when they wanted to sound more intellectual. So, in our effectual
dialogue, we would carry on with statements like “Regardless of how
irregardless something truly is, you still can’t say irregardless unless you’re
holding something up to be something it isn’t, regardless of its actual
meaning,” and then we would roll with laughter until tears would fill our eyes.
Paul would go on
to write, “But let every man prove his own work and then shall he have
rejoicing in himself alone, and not in another.”[3]
Vance proved his
merit by serving his country both in the Army and then working for the
Aeronautical Space Agency. He would spend his career working for NASA and
eventually retire with his family to Chatham County, North Carolina, where he
and I would eventually meet. He often substitute taught in the school system,
filling in for those roles many would pass. Vance’s favorite predicament was
walking into a High School Calculus class and picking up wherever the teacher
left off. Mind you, this was years after he had touched a mathematical formula.
He would always tell me, “You can always solve anything if you work it back to
the root.” After studying for and eventually passing the NC High School Math
Praxis myself, his words would come back to me, again and again, regardless if
we hadn’t seen each other in years.
During our
conversations of faith, I never quite understood where Vance stood exactly. As
with most intellects, he preferred to remain aloof about his belief in God.
Yet, when it came down to it, I had the sense that he honestly believed but was
more skeptical of religion as a whole. As Ravi Zacharias put it, “We are not
Christians because of the abominations or denominations we belong to, but
whether you know Jesus Christ in your heart.” It was in these
theological interactions that I sometimes felt as if Vance was questioning me
not only for something to pursue intellectually but that he was actually
becoming aware of seeing someone moved by the Holy Spirit. In our walk of
faith, we should never fear witnessing to anyone regardless of their station in
life. As Paul would convey, “Let him that is taught in the word communicate
unto him that teacheth in all good things.”[4]
A few months ago,
before the wheels fell off my life, I was to speak at a church back in Chatham
County. It was a wonderful blessing in and of itself, to be asked to share a
sermon with the Cumnock Union Church, but was equally rewarding in seeing so
many brother and sisters in Christ once more. It was during this trip that God
spoke to me and said that I should stop by and see my friend Vance and his
family before heading home. So, after
sharing fellowship with the brethren at Cumnock, I then turned off the highway
and found myself winding through the little streets of Goldston, and eventually
pulling into the driveway of Vance’s family’s farm. There, one last time I sat
with my old friend and shared in past experiences. Denise, his daughter,
brought him out to the couch to sit and visit with me and it was then that I
was struck with the reality of what time and illness had done to my friend. He
had suffered in his last years from advancing Dementia and Alzheimer’s
diseases. We tried to revive a minuscule portion of days gone by, but in the
end, faith in God was all that remained, for my dear friend was not the man he
once was. The horrific disease had taken a brilliant mind away from the shell
of the man that sat before me. Inside, my heart was sobbing, but outwardly, I
was thanking God for this short time together. We said goodbye, and part of me
realized that this may be the last.
There had been
plans to return for some other possible speaking engagements, but once the
trials and afflictions began, there was nothing to do but try to survive, and
as such, those events fell by the wayside.
Not long ago, I
saw Denise’s post of Vance’s passing, and with it, my heart dropped. Gone was
the last chance to say one more goodbye. Gone was that last chance to jokingly
poke fun of so many that held themselves in such high regard, regardless if
they deserved it or not. But in the end, I know that Vance found God as
inspiring as he had hoped, for in the end, when he crossed into that eternal
home, he found intellect beyond his own and enough time to laugh and share with
those minds that would match his own.
Tonight, I am
thankful for all the lives that have crossed my path in life, and especially people
like my friend Vance. May we never forget them and let us pray that we carry
their legacy with us, sharing with all a part of who they were for others to
carry on.
Thanks be to God.
“If any of you
lack wisdom,
let him ask of God, that giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not; and
it shall be given him.”-James 1:5
This evening, Christmas Eve to be
exact, the fire in the hearth hisses and crackles at me. The warmth soothes my
weary bones, like the stones upon which the firelight flickers against, warming
them, bringing them back to life. Late this afternoon I took a break from
wiring the Retreat and took a much overdue walk. It was an early Christmas gift
to myself, you might say.
The sky was a perfect Carolina
blue with the sunlight filtering through the barren branches of the forest. My
body felt sluggish, not something I had remembered in recent times. From the
recent medical prognosis, it was apparent that I would never be as fast or as
strong as I once was physically. Those sub-five-minute miles will only be a
memory from now on (unless, of course, I’m driving in a car). In fact, as the
saying goes, “I’ll never be as good as I once was.” It wasn’t quite the gift I
had expected. As my weary legs finally carried me back to the Retreat, I was
thankful just to have been able to walk along the whispering creeks and waterfalls.
The family was still gone on some
last-minute Christmas Eve errands. So many spent the recent days hurrying and
fretting over preparations for the perfect day when family and friends will
fill their homes. I was thankful to be free of that burden and able to relax
for a change. Back inside my little cabin in the woods, I stoked the fire back
to a roar and sat back sipping on a hot brew As the burgeoning flames cracked
and popped, my mind pondered the recent scripture that would not leave my head;
from the book of Luke. It is probably the most quoted gospel this time of year.
From the point when Mary has received the direction of the Arch
Angel Gabriel, to the immaculate conception, there is a story within itself. “And the angel answered and said unto her, The
Holy Ghost shall come upon thee, and the power of the Highest shall overshadow
thee: therefore also that holy thing which shall be born of thee shall be
called the Son of God.”[1]
Like the
spark that lights the fire, the hand of God came upon Mary, and in that
instant, the being of God in the form of human flesh began to develop in her
fetus. The “Most High” overshadowed her. The Greek word for “overshadow” is
comprised of two words, which basically describe a cloud of energy that
enveloped Mary, at which point, Christ was literally conceived. To understand
in our simple humanness is more than a struggle. Yet, the indescribable doesn’t
stop there.
Later, when Mary and Joseph reach Bethlehem, as it was foretold,
Jesus would be born in a lowly manger, a trough from which animals eat.
Remember the prodigal son and how it was described that he fell so far that he literally
ate out of the same troughs as the pigs which he tended. Our Lord and Savior
was born in such a condition, in a feeding trough. And when Mary had wrapped
him in swaddling clothes, rags if you will, he was ready to receive the many
guests that would soon arrive.
Unbeknownst to Mary and Joseph, out in the neighboring fields of
Bethlehem, shepherds were standing watch over their flocks at night, when
another Angel came to them. Now before I jump into the scripture that you have
probably heard a thousand times, allow me to precede it with something that you
may have never thought of before.
As I have already alluded, this was not just a common birth. This
was literally God being born for the first time ever, in the form of human
flesh. It was a sentinel moment in the history of God. This was a moment in
eternity in which the significance, although entirely missed by the spiritual leaders
of the time, would so impact the entirety of Glory above that it would be as if
all of heaven’s Angels, for a moment, would stop everything and come to earth
to attend the birth of a Savior, the son of God. For the first time in all of
creation, God was coming to earth, to be born of a lowly handmaiden, in a
stable. Had those Pharisees and Jewish leaders understood the prophecies of
which they supposedly had learned so well, they too could have joined the
unimaginable moment with all of creation, but they would not. They would be
lost to the moment and forever because of their unbelief. What they would miss
would be the gift of a lifetime, of an eternity. God would come to earth to
live and die like one of his own creation’s so that he would feel our pain,
know our suffering so that when he would eventually defeat death, and his blood
would flow freely down the cross, we would know that God had given us the most
precious gift mankind would ever know; His Son.
Now, reread the scripture with that picture in your mind, “And
there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch
over their flock by night.And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of
the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid. And the angel said
unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which
shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a
Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall
find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger. And suddenly
there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and
saying, Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.
And it came to pass, as the angels were gone away from them into heaven, the
shepherds said one to another, Let us now go even unto Bethlehem, and see this
thing which is come to pass, which the Lord hath made known unto us.”[2]
Notice how the shepherds feared the initial Angel and how it
comforted them until they were somewhat at ease. It was then, once they had
been calmed that the enumerable multitude of Heavenly hosts appeared before
them. So great was the light that it could be seen beyond the local pastures of
Bethlehem. Luke would later recall, in separate writings, how many
philosophers, scientists, and spiritual leaders would recall seeing the bright
light in the sky and how each of them would separately interpret the scene. Imagine
the lowly shepherds, uneducated, poor, and of simple faith, and how their
hearts might have stopped but for a moment in awe at the sight before them; the
heavens filled with Angels on high. The angelic illumination was so bright that
the mere mortal shepherds would have nearly been blinded, without and within. They
literally had been moved beyond belief as can be seen by the following passage.
“And they came with haste, and found
Mary, and Joseph, and the babe lying in a manger. And when they had seen it, they made
known abroad the saying which was told them concerning this child. And all they that heard it wondered at those things which were told
them by the shepherds.”[3]
These men, who were in charge of other men’s flock, left their
post and ran into town. The mere fact that they abandoned their livelihood to
seek out the babe in swaddling clothes would tell you of their sheer panic. Adrenaline
rushing through their veins, they sought the length of the city for the
child. They didn’t stop until they found
him. When they finally reached the stable, covered in sweat, breathing heavily,
they hesitantly entered, knowing that this was no normal child for which they
were to admire. There before them, glowing underneath the watchful eye of his
mother, was the babe of whom the Angel had spoken. Mary had instinctively picked
up her baby to protect him when this mass of strangers began to enter the
stables. But to her disbelief, they now fell at her feet and began to worship
her child. They would eventually share with her and Joseph the reason for the
worship and awe of the infant child. From there, the shepherds would not stop.
They would leave the stable and go far and wide sharing their story.
Eventually, they would return and share with her the wonderful reactions and
praises for which the Christ child had heralded. Mary’s head had to be spinning
at all that had transpired in just a matter of months. She had gone from a
simple peasant to the mother of the Son of God. She had to be dreaming, she
might have told herself more than once. And as you can imagine, “But Mary kept all these things, and pondered them in her heart.”[4]
Luke’s interview with Mary and her recanting this story, as it was likely
shared with her many times by those exact shepherds, so impacted Luke, a
physician, that he kept it just as it was told to him. In fact, all of the
story, from the immaculate conception to the birth is recounted through the
eyes of this glorious and wonderful physician, as he was known in his time.
That being said, you can now perhaps better understand the significance of the
timeline for which these events took place. Perhaps, even more, that you may
think about this precious gift we all have been given, even now, as the realm
for which God gave his only begotten Son so that any who should believe shall
be saved.
Tomorrow, if not already, you will hopefully have family
and friends over to open gifts and to celebrate Christmas. When the wrapping
paper is finally collected, and everyone has had time to contemplate their
gifts, both given and received, some may take time to reflect upon the reason
behind the most significant holiday on our calendar, at least to most people.
If allowed, ask them to listen for a moment, and share with them something special.
Share with them the greatest story ever told.
In life, we reach a point when we only reduce our
biological stability, perhaps maintaining for a while, but eventually, we will
slow a few more steps, rise a bit slower, and recall even less. Yet, through it
all, we should be thankful in our daily walk, no matter the struggles, and
remember that we have been given the most precious gift known to man. Nearly
2000 years ago, a present was wrapped in swaddling clothes and placed in a manger,
not under a tree. Those who were there to receive did not need to unwrap their
gift to know its importance.
Tomorrow, pause for a moment and give thanks to God above
for the greatest gift of all.
“Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly in all
wisdom; teaching and admonishing one another in psalms and hymns and spiritual
songs, singing with grace in your hearts to the Lord.”-Col.3:16
From the depths of the hollar, the strains of the melodies rise above the canopy.
Finally, within the Retreat, the purpose for which it began,
the music has begun. Weary fingers, mending from being crushed, broken, and
scarred through the many trials of construction still somehow remember their
positions on the keyboard. Like long lost loved ones gone but never forgotten,
the old songs return.
Outside, the night sounds of the forest rise from the
shadows as darkness creeps up the valleys below. The air begins to grow heavy,
like gravy running from the tops of the biscuit, finding the crevices through
which to yield, until only the peaks of the mountains prevail. Below the mist,
the music rises, penetrating the cloud, singing the praises of the Lord.
It had been nearly three weeks since there had been a break,
other than Sundays. Today, bodies, worn and tired, cried for a break; so, we
listened. Progress is being made on the Retreat, but there is much to do. There
are still windows and doors to set in place, but for now, it is a shelter from
the storms. As we took time to step back and revive our life outside of the
construction zone, we reconnected to the world around us; the mountains,
rivers, and forest of the Blueridge. In the process of reconnecting to God’s
grandeur, so too were our spirits rejuvenated with the blessings we had so long
ago put aside to pursue the many purposes for which we serve.
The old fiddle sits poignantly in the corner of the
fireplace as if she has always been there. From those strings, many blessings
have been provided in this life, and hopefully, Lord willing, there are many
more to come.
Tonight a few minutes were taken to revisit the old friend and to once more rekindle the Spirit within. When we make music, it is as if God can speak through us. His indwelling within us only makes our spirits rise to new heights. Like those notes floating beyond the tiny hollar from where they start, their tranquil melodies become one with the all of His creation. Together, their symphony is His grace singing from our hearts.
Yes, tonight the Word of Christ dwelt richly within, and for
that, I have only one thing to say.
Outside the sounds of the gurgling brook waft up the moss-laden wood-scape. Inside, surrounded by bare wood walls, it has begun; the inspirational retreat.
In true Tron fashion, before the building is yet finished, the first remnants of a writing desk took shape in the form of two sawhorses and a sheet of plywood. The overcast sky made for a cool, refreshing atmosphere, a welcome respite from the abundant heat we had sweltering these last few days of summer. Even here in the mountains, the dog days of summer can linger even into September. As the muted sunlight filtered through windowless walls, God’s inspiration began to flow through my fingertips and onto the keyboard. The first story written within the walls of the Spiritual Retreat was simply called, “Wisdom from a Tree.” It was only fitting, and definitely not intended, as a title seeing as the very trees cut down for the building site now exist as part of the structure under which I sat.
Many friends and followers had asked last week if I had finished the roof. My initial plan had been to take a picture when finished and post it to one of the social media sites, but alas, there was no good camera angle to do it justice; thus, there was no “Aha” moment, that the roof was completed. This morning the inspiration arrived in the form of a tree, and so, in the course of the day it only seemed befitting to settle into the safety of the new shelter to begin doing within for what it was intended; serving the Lord.
There is a gentle peace about this dwelling.
There are no doors or windows to keep the insects at bay. Mosquitos and gnats flutter to and fro in front of the computer screen. Bugs spray glistens from my forearms. The smell of fresh cut lumber fills the air. There is still lots of construction to be done before the glow of the fireplace flickers off the stonework surrounding it, but in my mind, I’m almost there. His Spirit is with me even now.
One can seek solace in many places throughout this world, but eventually, there must be a base from which all of who you are flows. At last, for now, it feels like this is my earthly home.
The slow advance of the day’s light finds me sitting inside the warmth of the coffee shop while outside, the snow blows sideways, adding to the night’s accumulation of winter. The coming semester looms over one’s thoughts as preparations for the horde of students returning to campus are just around the corner. The inclement weather had forced me to remain home, hunkering down by the fireplace, trying to stay warm. In the solitude, there was the sense of finding a footing on the being God created within me. Too often, we get caught up in the hustle of the world, chasing after those elusive goals and dreams, only to find we become lost in their deceptive approval of our existence. It’s not until we, either of our own will or it is forced upon us by some natural phenomena, step aside for a moment and let the snowflakes fall in the snow globe of life, settling where they may and then peering upon the landscape so beautifully adorned by her mantle of white.
