And then there was light.

March 28, 2017

Then, speaking to all, He said, ‘If anyone wants to be a follower of mine, let him renounce himself and take up his cross everyday and follow me.’ Luke 9:23

O LORD, I cry to You for help; in the morning my prayer comes before You. Psalm 88:14

Simon Peter answered Him, “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life. John 6:68

Welp. Yesterday was a stinking awful day.

But really, His mercies are new every morning. Great is His faithfulness. Really.

And every day I can sort of glower at that ol’ cross, waiting to be taken up. The same way that us swimmers hesitate every morning before we plunge into Hillenbrand pool.

But what are the options?

To whom shall I go?

This morning I stepped outside and breathed in deeply. It rained last night, just as the rumbling mountains had promised. I stood under the damp jasmine blossoms dripping sweet fragrance and stared at the sky and her twinkling hosts. And breathed in deeply. 

Your mercies are new, new every morning. Your mercies are new, new every morning.

You spoke into darkness, and then there was light.

Your mercies are new, new every morning. Your mercies are new, new every morning.

It doesn’t mean that today will be simple.

I still have to face the consequences of leaving a girl in the open-doored classroom yesterday to finish up her raw egg parachute while I watched Scene I from Romeo and Juliet, and she decided to use the scissors on her wrist rather than for cutting plastic bags.

Somehow I am going to have to find time to write sub lessons so I can judge the Southern Arizona Science and Engineering Fair.

And all of those argumentative essays and character analyses and lab journals to grade and post. On to genetics and the Bill of Rights.

And upheaval smolders all around. Mt. Etna has been making the news of late, and I so remember her sooty darkness that sifted down from the sky that prevented me from even seeing the hand in front of my face.

In my darkest hour

In humiliation

I will wait for You

I am not forsaken

Oh, I lose my life,

Oh, my breath be taken

I will wait for You

I am not forsaken

One thing I desire

To see You in Your beauty

You are my beauty

Yeah, You are my only. –Audrey Assad

To whom else shall I go?

March 29, 2017

The Refrain

I was pressed so hard that I almost fell, but the LORD came to my help.

Return, O my soul, to your rest;
    for the Lord has dealt bountifully with you.

Thank you Lord for the lovingkindness poured down overflowing all day around my head.

You are good. You are so good. You are so good to me.

The inner journey to the place of rest. -Nouwen

LORD, hear my prayer, and in your faithfulness heed my supplications; answer me in Your righteousness. My spirit faints within me; my heart within me is desolate. I remember the time past; I muse upon all Your deeds; I consider the works of Your hands. I spread out my hands to You; my soul gasps to You like a thirsty land. O LORD, make haste to answer me; my spirit fails me; do not hide Your face from me or I shall be like those who go down to the Pit. Let me hear of Your loving-kindness in the morning, for I put my trust in You; show me the road that I must walk, for I lift up my soul to You. Psalm 143

I read today that John Calvin wrote 159 sermons on Job. And every one of them ended with this, “Now we present ourselves before the face of God and bow in humble reverence.”

And sometimes I don’t have anything to say to my God. No words.

So it’s a great time to take another swing through the desert, along Arrollo Chico and listen.

May I hear of Your loving-kindness in the morning, for I lift up my soul unto Thee. 

Once again the chortle of the St. Francis fountain dribbles in the background

Our soul waits for the LORD; He is our help and our shield. Indeed, our heart rejoices in Him, for in His holy Name we put our trust. Let Your lovingkindness, O LORD, be upon us, as we have put our trust in You. Psalm 33:20-22

I will sing of mercy and justice; to You, O LORD, will I sing praises. I will strive to follow a blameless course; oh, when will You come to me? I will walk with sincerity of heart within my house. Psalm 101:1-2

Back to Letters to Malcolm and Mr. Lewis… who seems to nail it once again, opening him up where the bookmark was left a few weeks back and yet a seemingly eternity: Anger–no peevish fit of temper, but just, generous, scalding indignation–passes (not necessarily at once) into embracing, exultant, re-welcoming love. That is how friends and lovers are truly reconciled. Hot wrath, hot love. Such anger is the fluid that love bleeds when you cut it. The angers, not the measured remonstrances, of lovers are love’s renewal. Wrath and pardon are both, as applied to God, analogies; but they belong together to the same circle of analogy–the circle of life, and love, and deeply personal relationships. Al the liberalizing and “civilizing” analogies only lead us astray. Turn God’s wrath into more enlightened disapproval, and you turn His love into mere humanitarianism. The “consuming fire” and the “perfect beauty” both vanish. We have, instead, a judicious headmistress or a conscientious magistrate. It comes of being high-minded.

Things to think about.

Let Your lovingkindness, Oh LORD, be upon us, as we have put our trust in You.

I have had glimpses of buried treasure and other things submerged

It is a good thing to give thanks to the LORD, and to sing praises to your Name, O Most High; To tell of your loving-kindness early in the morning and of your faithfulness in the night season. Psalm 92:1-2

He revives my soul and guides me along right pathways for His Name’s sake. Psalm 23:3

I sure as heck have no idea what lies ahead.

But I have a heart full of images of Jesus breaking the bread and lifting His eyes to heaven and giving thanks before He offers it up to His followers. Before the miracle of provision.

And sometimes the night seasons are long. And last night I sat outside and let bits of an almost rainstorm splatter me as I read Dickens A Tale of Two Cities: Other sound than the owl's voice there was none, save the falling of a fountain into its stone basin; for, it was one of those dark nights that hold their breath by the hour together, and then heave a long low sigh, and hold their breath again.

And I am not sure why I went further into the melancholic mood first established with Saturday’s Les Miz, because of course Dickens builds upon it, brick by brick, with the sorrows of mankind. But there is light gleaming his each of his carefully hefted words, just as hope echoes in the wordless tunes of dreaming of dreams that now form the soundtrack against the stillness.

And there is great mercy found in the Dickens’ cry for justice: A wonderful fact to reflect upon, that every human creature is constituted to be that profound secret and mystery to every other. A solemn consideration, when I enter a great city by night, that every one of those darkly clustered houses encloses its own secret; that every room in every one of them encloses its own secret; that every beating heart in the hundreds of thousands of breasts there, is, in some of its imaginings, a secret to the heart nearest it!

Every human creature. And Our Shepherd knows each our names and sees the secret longing of our hearts. For we are Your people and the sheep of Your pasture.

And in this let me give praise for Your lovingkindness in the morning. For in Thee do I trust.

For we are your people and the sheep of your pasture; we will give you thanks for ever and show forth your praise from age to age.

Cause me to know the way wherein I should walk, for I lift up my soul unto Thee.

Deliver me; Teach me to do Thy will. Quicken me, Oh LORD. I lift up my soul unto Thee.

And even if I do not know for what I ask, Your Spirit within me does. Ask and you shall receive. Seek and you shall find. Knock and it shall be opened to you.

Almighty God, give me grace that I may always most thankfully receive.