"Ennui Buster.............

My three month-old Dell computer has suffered some sort of malfunction, one in which I am still connected to the Internet, but maintaining a relationship with it is a continual “on-again, off-again” affair. Getting into my blog is no problem. Trying to hop from there and check my e-mail usually meets rejection. It could well be Windows Eight that needs tweeking, but investigation will have to wait. My programmer buddy is vacationing in Florida… Yesterday, after an overcast sprinkly morning, the afternoon became a sun-baked oven wherein I created a new circular flowerbed in the back yard. Thirty feet away, the severed carcass of a huge dead tree lays scattered in the grass waiting for my young next-door neighbor to gather for firewood this winter. He seems in no hurry. An evening rainfall would bless the fruit of my labor while hindering the possibility of any serious effort on his part… Tonight we visit the men at the rescue mission again, as of yet there being no clear direction in what I intend to share with them. Life, it seems to me, is in the living, the details getting worked out as you go. Meaning and purpose often get lost in the journey, each day its own puzzle to solve. Even “in” Christ, it’s easy to find yourself with nothing more than a theology, a fellowship, and a religious robe you wear to support the illusion. Thus the great need to return to the well, to know His reality as a tangible source of re-affirmation. Faith rests on what it has been fed, renews itself through another dip in the pool, and learns from an anchor-line connection that secures us in the next step. In a world that so often seems pointless, He remains a promise unbroken……

"Surprise......."

“All hail the power in Jesus’ name, let angels prostrate fall. Bring forth the royal diadem and crown Him Lord of all. Bring forth the royal diadem and crown Him Lord of all.”

Somewhere in my second or third orbit of the soccer field Saturday afternoon, the above lyrics came back to me out of some memory vault, that particular chorus along with the initial verse of “Holy, Holy, Holy” sung every Sunday morning in that Lutheran church known to me during my childhood years. The program changed somewhat on a weekly basis (the sermon on a different topic and a selected hymn to “fit” the sermon), but the format itself was written in concrete. If I look back at such time in my life with a bit of nostalgia, it isn’t due to that routine having taught me Christ in any form or fashion. In truth, although approaching my seventy-second birthday in October finds me averse to drastic alterations concerning the world around me, a bit of variety, a taste of not always knowing how the day will come to me, is what makes the journey interesting… Father’s Day, this year, was a home-cooked meal at the oldest daughter’s house, husbands and children of both girls who yet live in this neck of the woods all gathering for the occasion. Their cards brought a tear to my eye, hitting me in my heart with their own sentiments going far beyond what Hallmark had inscribed. For whatever reason, my relationship with my own dad had lacked in any vocal recognition of the bond between us and I’ve made sure, as much as possible, to correct that on this side of things. Indeed, I find it much like the message brought to us by our pastor in last night’s service. Building upon Psalm 89’s simple statement “Blessed is the people that know the joyful sound”, he referred to the Pentecostal blessing that occurred in the Upper Room and declared “heaven” now abiding within us, that “rushing mighty wind” in the Book of Acts no longer a force delivered from on high, but coming up out of our inner well, the “audible point of contact” not so much of our ears hearing its onrush as it is that which we, ourselves create in allowing it to emerge in whatsoever manifestation it brought with it. There will be praise, the union, of itself, effecting worship; but the only part we hold in the event is a willingness to surrender ourselves to its possibility. Even so, I think, the parental bond on either end of the spiritual umbilical cord. Deity may not be directly involved in expressing our love for each other, but it does seem to me that His approval rests upon it.; and it’s for sure that both events are enriched when they occur out of spontaneity rather than repetition, a directive requiring everyone’s participation……

"Children..........................."

My oldest daughter and I did seven laps around the soccer field together when she got home from work last night, the area nearly void of other people and a cool breeze making the temperature not as hot as it would be otherwise. Her company eliminates my usual mental exercise undertaken at such time, but conversation with her is always welcomed and her pace takes me up a notch or two, the effort to keep up with her surely burning off more than just a few extra calories. Our discussion, as it usually does on these jaunts, turned to “life in the church”. She was only about seven when the neighbors started taking her and her younger sister to Sunday school, over five sixths of her forty-eight years a matter of being attached to this assembly. She has survived legalism, the charismatic invasion, and her father’s change of identity along the way. My reasons, though, for such abdication of all former commitments to this bunch, as well as my being happy that she and her husband have nonetheless remained involved, are known to her. I am proud of the two young men my grandsons have become, their values rooted in a Christ who is real and in parents who have lived that truth in front of them. The two of us talk: of what faith really involves, of just how deep His grace extends unto us, a confirmation of the connection, and of how humanity remains humanity, even “in” Christ, our inabilities and failures not just dismissed, but patiently put on the Potter’s wheel as we submit ourselves unto Him. I am her father, inwardly knotted to her in love, the relationship much the same as that which we know with our Creator via the Holy Ghost; and there is no doubt in my mind that I owe our earthly paternal bond to my having placed it all into His hands over four decades ago……

"Knowledge....................."

Something like thirty years ago our church initiated a school program, in its genesis not a whole lot more than individual work booths where students completed assignment books, help available in the form of an adult supervisor not always holding a college degree. Kentucky laws have since changed. We have complied, built a bigger, separate edifice to contain the ministry, and the kids, kindergarten through twelfth, number around two hundred nowadays. One of our graduates, now in his early twenties, helped us yesterday by taking down a couple of large, dead trees in the back yard. Conversation turned to his journey through that educational facility, his own mother one of the present certified teachers in its employment, but it being questionable whether we ever really achieved that which we intended so long ago. Isolating our children from what we perceived as a moral malfunction in the public system, social values corrupted in the classroom from behind the desk as well as in front of it, has not proven to be all that successful as a method of correction. I say that with four of my own prodigy yet in its enrollment. As he and Beth discussed the subject from such perspective, however, my question to him at one point was simply: “Looking back, do you regret your parents not having taken you via the other route?” His response, after a moment of serious consideration, spoke of gratitude for the experience and it left me with an opinion held for some time now, my own life invested into its birthing. We do not change people’s lives with a message. Doctrinal instruction concerning our theology might create a few more clones in our particular neck of the neighborhood; but humanity always remains humanity, any alteration in its identity a matter of influence applied along the way and a resurrected Christ “in” me always the best source of such commodity. Christianity, it seems to me, has neglected to emphasize that in any manner that suggests truth in its fullness. That might have a lot to do, though, with the fact that all of us, no matter our longevity in this, need His anchor-line, rod and staff correction in a stumble down the path……

"Transferral............................."

Beth and I drove over to the Mall area early Wednesday morning, some minor dental work required on my part, no need for numbing and so the two of us visited the Cracker Barrel afterwards for breakfast. Another couple from church was also there, whether coincidental or otherwise, he just released from the hospital due to some problems encountered with his biopsy. Taking aspirin several days prior to the event is a “no-no”. How much prior? A phone-call to Veterans quickly confirmed the error in my own reasoning, the nurse pleasant, but not too happy having to reschedule my Friday appointment with the doctor. Then, arriving home, we found the grandson mowing our lawn and, as we walked from the car to the house, she attempted to extract some dead foliage from this big ugly flower in the small bed just outside the garage. Normally that door would not have been open; but there it was, an invitation for me to follow my "stinkin’ thinkin’" to simply chop off the dead leafs there at the bottom of the plant. Who knew gardening could be such a dangerous occupation? One swift, vicious, downward swing of the hatchet brought immediate pain to my right index finger, a previously severed bamboo-like stalk having sliced the upper layer nearly to the bone from the knuckle back. It took nine stitches to close it, luckily no damage done to the tendon. Should I mention that Beth recently discovered her thyroid possibly threatening her health and, on a minor note, this three-month old computer is already out of whack, connected to the internet, but allowing me access only on a hit and miss basis…. In Bible study last night we examined and discussed witnessing for Christ in a world so opposed to the Gospel. While America, the past few years in particular, seems more and more aggressive in its opposition to our faith, and while drastic doctrinal differences held within our faith often create friction, yet it all boils down, at least for me, to maintaining what Paul referred to as the “mystery” of what we claim to be truth: Christ “in” me. Projecting the reality of that declaration isn’t just a matter of imposing our interpretation of Scripture upon others, nor is it all wrapped up in accomplishing a bunch of good works. Being a vessel for the Holy Ghost literally translates to allowing Him to come forth out of that inner well, manifested in what we say, what we do, and who we are. It is a life “merger” wherein we learn the “mechanics” as we go, some days with more success than others, each day a lesson all its own…...

"Resurrection..............."

Three weeks into Summer Break and most of those in my acquaintance, if not already departed on an adventure of some sort, are looking forward to one in the near future. My own schedule is filled in with trip to the dentist this morning and a biopsy over at Veterans Friday. Nonetheless, it “feels good”, my mood not really thirsting for all that goes with vacationing. There’s plenty of peace and quiet right here, no obligations other than what I assign myself, a three-mile exercise walk in the park almost every day, a flower bed under construction in the back yard, a short nap in the afternoon, and dinner at some nearby restaurant with my wife every evening. Two or three books, some crossword puzzles, and this computer pretty well sums up my life at the moment, a heaven on earth environment without all the money required to find excitement somewhere else. Bible class tonight, Acts Chapter Four, last week’s lesson still fresh on my mind. Yet pondering that discussion we entertained on there being power and authority in the name of Jesus, I’m still convinced that we, rather than knowing the reality of Christ alive in us, have settled instead for a theology that defines Him. No; that’s not to endorse what has come to us the last few decades via celebrity televangelism, but it is intended to stress the truth that either the indwelling is an actual re-connection with the Creator, one in which the Holy Ghost is more than a doctrinal tenet held in a profession of faith, or else the only thing we possess in fact is another religious dogma. In John’s gospel, we read “I can of myself do nothing” and “If I bear witness of myself, my witness is not true. There is another that beareth witness of me”. The Savior did not stop there, however, going on to say that the works He accomplished documented His identity and that, while perusal of Scripture was a worthy endeavor, eternal life was a matter of knowing Him in the journey. For me, “grace” is an encounter with His resurrection. “Christianity” is His presence reaffirmed in my life again and again as I stumble down the path, whether it come to me in a prayer closet, as an emergence into His depths during a worship service, or through me somehow in my everyday contact with others. “Power” and “authority” are His attributes, not mine; and in that sense only are they available unto me. My focus is on Him, not the situation in front of me, His name but a statement pointing to a trust that He is never out of earshot in whatever the next step holds……

"Circular Thinking....................."

Monday evening showed possibility of rain, some showers already encountered earlier and a few dark clouds yet scattered across the sky. I went to the park anyway, taking my chances; and, as it happened, managed seven laps around the soccer field with nothing but an initial light sprinkle that quickly passed. Sometimes my route is changed to include circling the tennis courts on the south end; but, on this occasion, being the only one in that neck of the woods moved me to just stay in orbit. The hour it takes to complete the three miles is opportunity for me, a bonus beyond the exercise achieved, prayer attempted, but more like temporary encounters here and there, the human mind hard to keep from going down its own path. One minute I’m talking with God; the next I find myself off on a tangent, chasing a thought, chewing over Scripture. Years ago, an elder in the church as much as rebuked me before the whole congregation concerning my view shared on a certain Bible verse. There was no anger on my part; but the event has stayed with me, giving me no wish to ever repeat it in the sense of me offending someone else in regard to who has the most correct deciphering of the Word. It occurred to me yesterday that, as far as we know from the Book, when the first murder was committed, in the whole world there was only four people living together in the same neighborhood, the event a family fratricide and the cause of death an argument over how to worship the Creator. Jesus once accused the religious bunch in Jerusalem of “straining at a gnat and swallowing a camel”. I believe in spelunking the depths of all that He is, in searching the mysteries of this existence He has given, and in realizing that, no matter how much we think we have conquered in our journey thus far, we’ve not even scratched the surface in knowing Him for who He is. Christ “in” me isn’t a doctrinal tenet, but a tangible connection with truth. Anything beyond that is just my humanity trying to work out the details for myself……