So I grew up around pottery… but this guy made me laugh, his skill and ease was just too much.
Come Holy Spirit, heavenly Dove, with all Thy quickening powers;
Kindle a flame of sacred love in these cold hearts of ours.
In vain we tune our formal songs, in vain we strive to rise;
Hosannas languish on our tongues, and our devotion dies.
Dear Lord, and shall we ever live at this poor dying rate?
Our love so faint, so cold to Thee, and Thine to us so great!
Come, Holy Spirit, heavenly Dove, with all Thy quickening powers;
Come, shed abroad a Saviour’s love, and that shall kindle ours.
~ Isaac Watts 1707
some put their hope in the fatherland, others, the motherland.
i wait for another land.
and as i wait,
i find my heart’s flame flicker short by winds contrary, from the north.
winds whispering of glistening white,
albeit cold, havens where fires are want.
they tease my efforts.
they balloon my soul with fears.
they compel my eyelids shut.
faithless, treacherous winds. well did Hosea speak of you as empty: ‘Ephraim feeds on the wind.’
though my fire dims, and my spirit lies within me broken,
yet my soul, remember him whose name is Faithful.
and by faith’s enlightened eye, look up, even as servants look to their master.
for though he chasten, surely he too will receive, if thou art his son?
resolved. to tear this visa and depart. a homeland not of this world I seek,
but the heartland of my father, where citizenship consists in one embrace.
A sensory sampler of the past two days:
The home-like smell of clay at the potter’s studio.
The sound and sight of a harp duet in a most serene setting.
The flavor of crisp zucchini bread.
The welcome presence of my father, the artist who sees beauty where others do not.
Picture Bibles were my favorite. Jesus with the fishermen and all their fish. Cain and Abel. Josiah destroying the pagan idols. The crucifixion. Noah’s ark. At age 6, the Picture Bible was probably my best friend.
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Amid long trumpet blasts and rumbling thunder, amid an entire mountain engulfed in heaven’s fire and smoke, Yahweh wrote with His own hand upon two tablets of stone. Stone. With God’s own handwriting. Not a grilled cheese sandwich with Madonna’s face. God’s own – personal – handwriting on real, solid, lasting, cold stone.
And then Moses broke it.
So God had Moses chisel out two other tablets, upon which God would write again. His own handwriting. Again. Even God knew what it was like to lose a first draft…
Fast forward a couple thousand years.
Feast of Tabernacles. Being one of the highest feasts of the year, it always drew the largest and most colorful crowds. The city of Jerusalem always swelled dramatically in population, and every suburb was crammed with pilgrims. Day after day the pilgrims saw the sights, kept the vigils, observed the festival customs, listened to the rabbis in the temple, purchased a meal in the market, and headed back to their leafy booths to rest. It was enjoyable cool October weather, and there under the booths they could swap stories or reminisce on Israel’s deliverance from Egypt.
After the last day of the feast and the hectic week began to wind down in the city, one man spent his night out under the open skies on the mount of olives. Most pilgrims were packing their bags and planning their long trip home as he slept there on the hill.
In the morning, the man went down the hill and into the temple and began teaching. The crowds always were large around this man. No one ever spoke like him before, and many of the pilgrims wanted to hear him one last time before they made their long journey home. The man was a Rabbi, a teacher.
A stir happens in the back. The crowd parts. The noble and prestigious Pharisees bring a woman to the Rabbi. They accuse her of harlotry, and insist upon her being stoned, as Moses would have. They bring her to him, hoping to make the Rabbi squirm in the presence of the people and see his popularity fall flat.
The Rabbi steps out from under the portico. He bends down and begins writing on the dust of the temple floor. His own finger wrote on the ground. What did it say? I don’t know what it said. No one seemed to think it was important. What was important was him, and the words that were to come out of his mouth. All eyes were on his person. All ears strained to hear his decision.
Rewind.
Yahweh wrote on the tablets of stone for Moses. And Yahweh wrote on the dust … for who? His own personal handwriting! in the dust? Just to be smeared by feet and blown by the wind? Why didn’t anyone take a picture, or copy it down and frame it?
Stone or dust. God is content to write on both. No gold-leaf needed. For the moment the words take more attention than the Author himself, the letter is divorced from the spirit, bringing death. Had the people not focused on Jesus Christ in that hour, the harlot would have died.
This is why I will never make it in the blogosphere. Writer’s block. Writing methinks doesn’t ebb and flow for me, it just ebbs. And ebbs. And wanes. And pines until all I’ve left are yellow #2 Ticonderoga pencil shavings with nothing to show but graphite smeared fingers.
So, Biblical Studies. My first module covering the Pentateuch is nearly over. An observation or two I’d like to make: Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, they were fallen humans. Abraham had marriage issues, Isaac had child-raising issues, and Jacob had just about every other issue. Look at Jacob,
1. He grew up under a dad who showed favoritism
2. His mom helped him deceive his father
3. He thought bargaining with God might get him ahead
4. He had major marriage problems
5. He agreed to let his sons and daughters intermarry with the Canaanites
6. His children were involved with human trafficking
7. He seemed to be in constant conflict with someone, somewhere
8. At the end of his days he said “evil have been the days of the years of my life (Gen 47:9)”
Then there’s Judah, Jacob’s son, of whom 1 Chronicles 5:2 says “Yet Judah prevailed over his brothers, and from him came a ruler, although the birthright was Joseph’s” Judah? The one who has an entire chapter dedicated to him some parents wouldn’t let their children read because of the content, that Judah??
Some conclusions I’ve drawn: God was over the entire mess. He wouldn’t let them alone. He decided who to bless, and who would prevail. One could understand 2 brothers fighting over a birthright. But what happens when there’s 12 brothers? It passed to Joseph without comment. But in the same verse we see Judah mysteriously prevailing over his brothers. As far as I know anything, Judah prevailed by no merit of his own. It had to have been God’s sovereign hand.
God leaves no room for flesh to boast, this I’m learning. His foolishness is wiser than our wisdom.
The King: a lamb.
His family line: strewn with scandals and wicked kings.
His occupation: the common carpenter.
His disciples: misunderstood every other sentence he said.
He made Himself of no reputation. He humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross. Therefore God has highly exalted Him and given Him the name which is above every other name…
Let me not grow offended. God’s ways are perfect. Mystifyingly perfect.
I want to write a song that contrasts the Harlot Babylon and the New Jerusalem. I’m having trouble writing it on the fly, so I thought I’d process here.
There’s a great push for global stability these days. A global village, a global community, a government that works like a family. The world is a puzzle of dysfunctional nations vying for honor, prestige, glory. “If we could just get the nations to a round table over coffee and talk about our differences and common goals, we could have ourselves a peaceful family of nations dedicated to further the glory of humanity and an Earth cultivated into a garden of harmony.”
One city will become the headquarters of this “Global Village”. She’ll be clothed in purple and scarlet. She’ll be the economic and religious capitol of the world. Nations will bring their glory to her.
On the flop side of this global reformation will be the children of Abraham. Yes, that same Abraham who left Ur, traveled to Israel, set up a tent, and waited for a city. Abraham presents a problem to the world.
1. He doesn’t contribute to the “global village” fund.
2. He doesn’t buy into Sodom’s economic system.
3. He claims there’s a better city than anything Nimrod could dream.
4. He won’t build a house or buy land for himself.
5. His children practice his beliefs, and they’re everywhere.
more later…
‘Horarium’ is a Latin word meaning ‘the hours’, a religious term denoting ones daily schedule.
A few years ago I had the opportunity to spend a few days in a Trappist monastery, which happened to be the oldest monastery in the United States. Trappists follow the Rule of St. Benedict. It rained mostly while I was there, so I couldn’t go on the walks I desired to, but I was happily able to peculiarly experience that foreign world the monks live in.
My favorite part, by far, was the ringing of the great bell that hung in the bell tower at night. I could be wrong, but I think it was every midnight (If it wasn’t midnight, it must have been 3am) the monks were awakened by the bell, they went into their singing hall to keep vigils, then they went back to sleep. Their entire day was organized by that bell. They gathered to eat by the bell, they went to work by the bell, they observed their allotted times of prayer by the bell, they rose and went to sleep by the bell.
They had two rooms for eating, one for those wishing to eat in silence, and a larger room for those who wished to talk over the meal. There was also large white hall where the monks would go to sing. Half sat on one side, half sat on the other, by which they sang antiphonally. The melodies were very very plain. The songs were mostly the Psalms put to rhyme and meter.
So, the horarium. For the intercessory missionary, it’s unavoidable. As St. Benedict said, “to work is to pray, to pray is to work.” And prayer, along with work, is metered out by the hours, not minutes. The book of Acts certainly seems to show the early Apostles keeping certain hours of prayer as a regular way of life. And this may be a stretch, but Paul and Silas were singing at midnight. Was that the norm for them? What did they sing? I have to be honest. I’m not the easiest riser in the night, but there’s something about Vigils that is very attractive. And Jesus’ parable in Matthew 25 of the 10 virgins makes Vigils all the more appealing. But I can almost guarantee you one thing: I will need written-out prayers, hymns or psalms to start out. If I don’t have that, I will probably be back asleep in less than 2 minutes, and that will set the clockish order of things all wrong.
Walking the streets of DC makes me feel small.
Of course, from a bird’s point of view, I probably do look like a grasshopper.
But walking the streets of this marble columned city with all of its flags and statues and well-dressed politicians could, at a stray glance, make me feel fairly unimportant and insignificant.
The thought flutters for a second, hanging in mid-air, tempting me into despair, until the anchor line of reality stops it cold: Christ is returning, and hardly 1% of the officials on this Capitol Hill give Christ and His Kingdom the time of day.
I’m fairly certain Homeland Security is not looking for the advice of some 30 year old Jew named Jonah who claims to have spent several days inside a fish. Jonah’s resume doesn’t work. It just doesn’t. And yet, one man’s voice was singularly responsible in warning and ultimately saving the entire ancient city of Ninevah from complete destruction.
What would America say to Jesus Christ?
2 Peter 3 “Knowing this first: that scoffers will come in the last days, walking according to their own lusts, and saying ‘Where is the promise of His coming? For since the fathers fell asleep, all things continue as they were from the beginning of creation.’ For they willfully forget: that by the word of God the heavens were of old, and the earth standing out of water and in the water, by which the world that then existed perished, being flooded by water.”
Often Christ referenced the days of Noah in relation to His return. The scope of disaster will be equal, if not greater than the flood. The real event of global disruption and solar blackouts will only be the beginning. After 7 seals, 7 trumpets, and 7 bowls, a Jewish man will fully own the world.
I wonder, what would Thomas Jefferson say? How does one build a Nation on that rock? How does one design a government with the Sermon on the Mount as its constitution?
Jason Upton had a weird way of taking me somewhere whenever I listened to his “Faith” album. At first, I confess, I greatly disliked him, his voice, his passion. Somehow my parents liked him. Thanks to them, I would wake up to Jason singing “Freedom” at the top of his lungs. It took a couple weeks, but I finally got won over. Those were baby steps for me.
Um… Rich Mullins‘ “Awesome God” was my bread and butter in elementary school. And now his “My Deliverer” is one of my favorites. Just recently I learned how much Rich Mullins was into children and working with the homeless and native americans. I just talked to a film-maker who used to do interviews with Mr. Mullins. He told me that Rich wanted to do a video series on Saint Francis of Assisi living in the Cowboy days.
Then there’s keith green. The revolutionary. The worshiper who bugged some christian leaders … because he was right. The guy longed fervently for revival. His soul had an ancient thirst for God, and his music kindled his generation.
Martin Smith wrote songs that were just solid. “Find me in the River” “King of Love” “I could sing of your love forever” “I’ve searched for gold” “Lord you have my heart” etc. Almost all of his songs were in the folio. I’ve only heard him live once, but the last words he said on stage were “prophesy to this nation.” What kind of singer says that? Martin must have had some good times on the backside of a hill with his harp. Those kind of songs are birthed, not numerically generated.
I can’t forget Handel. In truth, I hardly know his music. It’s his story that has captivated me. As he composed his Messiah score, tears streamed down his face and he exclaimed “I did think I saw the glory of God before me.” If one looks at the words of this Oratorio, it’ll be found more packed with scripture and glory than most sermons you’ve ever heard.
Caedmon is another who inspires me. a Singer in the 600s AD. He wept because he could not sing well, until in a vision Christ asked him for a song of His creation. Caedmon, out of obedience and in humility, began to sing – when suddenly a new song filled his mouth, and he began singing songs of glory to the Creator, songs that echoed over all of Britannia.
“Now [we] must honour
the guardian of heaven,
the might of the architect,
and his purpose,
the work of the father of glory
— as he, the eternal lord,
established
the beginning of wonders.
He, the holy creator,
first created heaven as a roof
for the children of men.
Then the guardian of mankind
the eternal lord,
the lord almighty
afterwards appointed
the middle earth,
the lands, for men.”
