Friday, October 30, 2020

Rain

 . . . like gentle rain on grass, like showers on new growth. 

 - From Deuteronomy 32

Yesterday, we had a day-long sustained experience of cold rain. 

Rain changes things. It delays baseball games. Causes picnics and other outdoor events to be canceled. It forces you inside. 

I had planned to do a 5K jog yesterday, but at my age, and in the covid era, (I deliberately do not capitalize "covid". The entire dubious concept deserves no iota of honor), I stay inside if it rains and is under 50 degrees. 

But I got other things done. I've been pushing, these past few weeks, to get through my basic daily task list, including the discretionary-optional things. And I did . . . I did not complete much, but every one of my daily wish-list items got checked off. This felt good. 

It's strange how certain minor events stay on your mind. They shape you, influence you. In the 1990s I was living outside Atlanta, Georgia. I did not particularly like it there. But I had been a Covey practitioner and was learning to be happy in all things, especially things I could not change. I most disliked the lengthy season of hot, almost tropical weather. In this particular moment, my boss (named "John"), a transplanted Pennsylvanian that had no intention ever of returning to the "cold" north, was on a phone call, in his office. My cubicle was just outside. 

It was November in north Georgia, and we were experiencing the first spell of sustained, cold rainy weather. To me, it was more than welcome. I could relax inside, with a book, or a movie. The nice, toasty furnace would be running. 

I heard John say, over the phone "The weather's miserable."

There are few moments from this period, which is now over twenty-five years ago, that I remember with such clarity. This is one of them.

It struck me, how you can hate cold weather enough to live in Atlanta, where it's too hot nine months out of the year, and still find it within you to obsess about the one day in half a year, that's not perfect. 

Humans are about 60% water. When you get a little dehydrated, especially with age, you can feel it. Without water, there is no garden, no produce. You can't eat without it. And you have to drink it. It keeps the lawns green. It is what every cooling swimming pool must have. 

We are baptized with water. 

God seems to like water. He likes it so much that He didn't want us ever again, to think of it as a great instrument of judgment (as in Noah's time). A steady rain covers everything. After soaking the ground, it will begin to run off, where it will replenish the lakes and streams. 

God's word is likened to rainfall. The beautiful praise song from the 1990s, "Holy Spirit Rain Down" was a kind of play on words, where "reign," I believe, is also referenced. The classic Who song, "Love Reign Over Me" does the same wordplay. 

We are supposed to take that illustration . . . Holy Spirit Rain Down . . . as a positive thing. And it helps, to get the full effect, if you have not cultivated a dislike of rain. 

We can't change the weather. We can't change nature. We can't stop or alter the water cycle. 

Rain is a good thing. It's a very good thing. 


Tuesday, October 27, 2020

Honor

Prophets are not without honor except in their own country and in their own house  . . . 

 - From Matthew 13

Social Media has been a magnifying glass, on the truth of this statement here, from the Lord. 

People "unfriending" each other like it's the latest craze. Friendships, blood relations, shattered and scattered, thanks to the fake intensity of emotions, on-line. 

For whatever reason - and I have not figured it out, although I think about it a lot - we get a heightened sense of our own identity when we're wandering about on Facebook. We're more sensitive, more defensive, more quick to judge. Our feelings get hurt more easily and deeply. Our lizard brains rule us. We jump all over on people we have known and admired for years, even decades. We can't just stop. We do not know how to re-escalate. It's almost as if it were a form of . . . 

 . . . addiction. 

The same discussions that we have on Facebook, we could have in person, much more productively. In fact that happened once, with me. A friend from high school, that I had not seen in ages, and I got into some severe scrapes on-line. I don't know about him, but I was deeply hurt and frustrated with our exchanges. 

But when I accidentally saw him, in person, one time, it was like the old times. We began laughing, and in that setting were able to explain and understand each other much better, than on Facebook. 

So I'm trying to tie it back to Jesus' statement about prophets, and honor, and their own countries. 

Apparently, real honor cannot exist in online discussions. Evidently, prophets should not attempt communicating on-line - prophesy is an area where careful articulation is required; and on-line discussions get sloppy. And Facebook is it's own little country, or family. Everything is intensified, because you can instantly get a hundred likes from strangers . . . which also instantly creates a wedge between you and your real friends. 

We should come back to a discussion about "honor," because it too is becoming a relic of the past. 

For now, I try to keep the challenge of Pastor Matt Hook, to heart - - - push away from comments, and responses, on-line, that will only stir up anger. 

Pointless anger has no honor, at all. 

Friday, October 16, 2020

Labor

. . . constantly remembering before our God and Father your work of faith and labor of love and steadfastness of hope in our Lord Jesus Christ. 

 - From I Thessalonians 1

Is "Labor" a good or bad word?

We celebrate "Labor Day" in the US, which is a day to recognize the manual skills and accomplishments of people that "work" for a living. The assumption, is, of course, that a person that studies markets and the performance of the stock market isn't "working," as much as a person swinging a hammer. Formally, we recognize and celebrate the advancements made for the quality of life of Americans, thanks to the union movement. Except, we all get a day off now. 

Labor Day may be one of my favorite holidays, if not my very favorite, in some ways. 

You don't have to get up early for gifts, or to go to Church, or to get a good seat at a parade. You don't spend all morning cooking. In fact, you don't have to be anywhere, necessarily, at all, all day. What few traditions there are, for gathering, always yield fond memories: the final outing at the lake. One last family BBQ. A visit to the park, for a long walk in the waning moments of summer. 

I always loved the Jerry Lewis Telethon, which occurred every year, all day, on Labor Day. Muscular Dystrophy is perhaps my favorite charity, and I will always be grateful for this tradition launched by Mr. Lewis. 

But, what makes Labor Day not the best holiday, in the end, is that you normally have to get up the next morning, early, to go to school. Summer is over.

Labor Day, in this context, refers to manual labor. Labor that requires you to lift, to move, to maneuver and work. Work, itself, is a word with negative connotations. Some people love to work, yes . . . but they are doing what they love. To them it isn't work. We should not look down upon others, that are not motivated to do the same things we are. 

"Labor of love" has a special meaning. It means there are some things you should do, without expecting to get paid. I have done a lot of research on my family history, through the years. I have come to a critical mass, of becoming aware of elders, and children, in my extended family, with distinct needs requiring some financial support. I said something about it to one of my cousins. She said "You should not expect to be paid to do genealogy. It should be a labor of love." She was totally missing the point. 

I think Paul meant something different, when he commended the Thessalonians for their "labor of love." He is very adamant, in many different contexts, that people serving Christ should be paid. If they don't get a little financial support, and even a few motivational rewards ($), they will be forced to leave the ministry (and we're all ministers). Paul is referring to the specific things that they do . . . their jobs, and their vocations, are driven by a godly love for others. They love serving Christ and others. They put a lot of sweat into it. It looks like work to others . . . whatever it is. 

Building homes for the homeless? Treating illnesses for the poor? Tutoring kids with a single parent? 

They were very busy. They are working. But it does not feel like work, because they are motivated by love. 

Talking about helping the needy isn't work. It is not labor. Only by helping . . . with your hands, and your heart, and your presence, is what labor of love is all about. 




Monday, October 12, 2020

Oil

You have anointed my head with oil . . . 

 - From the Twenty-Third Psalm

It's always a treat when Psalm 23 comes up in the Lectionary readings. I guess it should do that only once a year; maybe even only once every three years. 

In my boyhood church, The Penfield Advent Christian Church in New York, the 23rd Psalm was one of the regular congregational responses in the service, every week. Just like The Lord's Prayer, we recited it every week, I believe, immediately after the sermon and before the benediction.  As a kid, I had it memorized. For that reason, I have always thought of it as the Old Testament version of the Lord's Prayer. 

THe Twenty-Third Psalm also references other integral New Testament themes. The anointing of oil . . . this always prefigured baptism, the use of water to wash away sin. Oil, I guess, is a preservative of sorts. It adds flavor, and has a lot of healthy benefits. The Essential Oils movement is connected to this. 

When I was a kid, "Cod Liver Oil" was one of those things you heard about all the time. Some kids were required to take a tablespoon of it every day. You had that, plus your One-a-Day vitamins. 

For three years, I have made a daily habit of putting a drop of Thieves oil in my coffee, every day. This apparently has preventative benefits. I started it because I was going to be teaching in an extended substitute job that, if I didn't miss a day, would get double-pay. But then I continued it to the end of each school year. And then this summer, I kept on doing it, because of the Coronavirus. 

I believe it helps. I have no scientific proof, but as my sister says "If you think it works, does it matter what the science says?"

The Psalmist uses the perfect tense of the verb . . . "You have anointed my head. . . . ". It's as good as done, like with all of God's promises. 

We may face danger. We will have disappointments and sadness in this life. We will suffer loss, and maybe even violence. But God has anointed our heads with oil. The oil covers our heads. It seeps into us and permeates our being. Oil represents holiness. We are covered. 

Notice, too, that unlike a mask, oil is clear. It can be all over you . . . it may cover your entire face . . . but your wonderful God-made face is still visible to everybody. 

God wants us to be seen. Our faces have an important role in communication and connection. Research shows that we rely heavily on seeing other people's faces in order to communicate most effectively.

When God covers us . . . when He protects us . . . He does not hide us. 



Wednesday, October 7, 2020

Heap

For you have made the city a heap, the fortified city a ruin . . .  

 - From Isaiah 25

The entire chapter, Isaiah 25, is a passage full of praise to God . . . for His goodness. God's enemies will be defeated. We will cry no more. Death will be vanquished. 

But it leads off with this scene from an American city, in 2020:

"You have made the city a heap."

Sodom and Gomorrah were thriving cities . . . but when they were overcome with selfish pursuits only, and the brutalizing of each other, God had to end it. He took out two entire cities. Where are they now? God wipes out cities. 

Is it possible, that God is not much into the urban lifestyle? 

When Christ needed time with His Father, He always went off, to be alone. He got away from the crowds. In fact, the very idea of "crowds" in the Bible, is usually not in a good context. 

I remember a conversation with a fifth grader. His family had just moved to the US, from Japan, within the past year. The very next summer, my daughter was planning to go to Japan for an internship. So I asked the fifth grader if he had some advice for my daughter. He said "Get used to living with millions of people piled on top of each other."

This same daughter had a best friend, from Korea. My daughter said that, as she drove her friend out to my sister's for Easter dinner, one year, her friend marveled at the spread of homes . . . each home so far apart, with so much land in between. Her friend had heard about this, about America, but was still amazed when she saw it the first time. 

I used to drive through Michigan's back roads with a friend that had spent her entire life in Detroit. As we drove down farm roads, my friend talked about how everything was so "stretched out". 

We seek a home with lots of land. But some people seek the city, to get away. But people that are restless, running away from something (usually something "provincial"), that are a little angry about this or that . . . when enough of them gather in a city, how does it surprise us when crowds gather and begin acting randomly?

Cities seem permanent. They seem safe. They seem like a place where you are protected from danger, by waves of people surrounding you. 

But none of this is true. God told Abraham to look in every direction. Everything that he can see, will be his.

Land is a big deal. God's Kingdom is a place of sprawling beauty. 

And we should not be surprised when cities collapse. Sometimes . . . this is part of something bigger, something very good.