And the Sermon title was Don’t answer “fine,” to the How Was your Week Question

My eyes are fixed on you, O my Strength; for you, O God, are my stronghold. Psalm 59:10

When these things begin to take place, stand erect, hold your heads high, because your liberation is near at hand . . . So with you when you see these things happening: know that the kingdom of God is near. Luke 21:8

Oh Lord, who else or what can I desire but You? You are my Lord, Lord of heart, mind, and soul. You know me through and through. In and through You everything that is finds its origin and goal. You embrace all that exists and care for it with divine love and compassion. Why, then, do I keep expecting happiness and satisfaction outside of You? Why do I keep relating to You as one of my many relationships, instead of my only relationship, in which all others are grounded? Why do I keep looking for popularity, respect from others, success, acclaim? Why, Lord, is it so hard for me to make You the only one? Why do I keep hesitating to surrender myself totally to you?

Help me, O Lord, to let my old self die, to let die the thousand big and small ways in which I am still building up my false self and trying to cling to my false desires. Let me be reborn in You and see through You the world in the right way, so that all my actions, words, and thoughts can become a hymn of praise to You.

I need Your loving grace to travel on this hard road that leads to the death of my old self and to a new life in and for You. I know and trust that this is the road to freedom. Lord, dispel my mistrust and help me become a trusting friend. Amen Henri Nouwen, A Cry for Mercy

And really the road is never easy. I thought about that once again up Sentential Peak. And now I can do the vuelta in one hour rather than how it used to take me one hour and forty minutes. But it is still uphill and sweaty. And like Peter, I need to wash my feet every day.

And the sermon last night was a reminder that every “ordinary” moment is actually significant, marked by glory, infused by the grace of God. And even as the world lights up in destructive flames about us, we can stand tall, our eyes fixed on Him; our liberation from the old way of seeing things is ever present, because He is about the business of transformation.

Manuel was listing all of the new thinking he has had this week: hiking trails along mountain streams, family dinners, Fantasy Football, Rocks and Ropes climbing, high school Friday night football games, head-banging rock concerts in the blazing Saturday afternoon sun, and oh yeah, bummer, losing one’s cell phone. And I too, have had a full week this week, thinking about life.

And good old book club Richard the Third decided to take his life in his own hands and run the show. 

And thus I clothe my naked villainy
With odd old ends stol'n out of holy writ;
And seem a saint, when most I play the devil.

Am I so very different than him, full of schemes and plots to cling to my false self? 

It surely isn’t about the pitted road or circumstances. Eve listened to the whispering of the Evil One even in the Garden of Eden. I thought about that too.

And Sue sent me her prayer for me: May the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Because His peace is not like that of the world. And His peace is not reasonable or logical or quantifiable. We do not arrive at His peace on our own strength.

He is my strength.

May my eyes be fixed.

And Ann Voskamp asked this week, How often do we cup our hand to our ear and listen for heaven’s song over our lives?

And I was reminded of the arrival of Aslan’s song in The Magician’s Nephew: A voice had begun to sing. It was very far away and Digory found it hard to decide from what direction it was coming. Sometimes it seemed to come from all directions at once. Sometimes he almost thought it was coming out of the earth beneath them. Its lower notes were deep enough to be the voice of the earth herself. There were no words. It was hardly a tune. But it was beyond comparison, the most beautiful sound he had ever heard.

And sometimes, well, a lot of time, I weep during worship songs at church. And it is a mixture of a beautiful sound with a not-so-beautiful sound of me shaking my fist at God and asking if all of these sweet lyrics are really true. Sometimes it is a melody of faith, like My heart will choose to say, and sometimes I choke over those nicely rhymed words on the glowing stage screen and nothing comes out. Mistrust rolls in like a heavy fog, in a thousand big and small ways. And the metaphors ring hollow, and me, the big glob of clay, wants to hop right off that Potter’s wheel.

But good old John D’Andrea reminded all of us gathered once again in our living room that it a story. His story.  Calling all peoples unto Him.

And this morning, once again, I join the prayer of Henri and the community of Christ and plead for mercy: Let me be reborn in You and see through You the world in the right way, so that all my actions, words, and thoughts can become a hymn of praise to You.

A hymn of praise.

And sometimes that hymn sings loudest chasing Everette across the soccer field.

So be it.

Worry does not empty tomorrow of sorrow, it empties today of strength. -Corrie ten Boom

Let your loving-kindness, O LORD, be upon us, as we have put our trust in You. Psalm 33:22

The mountains are beautiful. I think that there was particular joy in watching Emily, Chuyi’s mom enjoys the sunlit towering pines for the first time. The freshness, the scrambling birds, the little fish-filled stream were so beyond her expectations as she nestled down into the curtain-drapy cushion thing Nicole had arranged for her. Things are pretty dry and crusty as one starts heading up the Catalina Highway. There is no way to know what lies beyond all of those curvy roads.

And I was pretty fussy as Nicole urged me down down down some of those hills. Because I knew that they involved correlating and quite daunting uphills. And she kept laughing about the beautiful views while I sort of grumbled. But you know, of course, the uphills were not that scary, once I started. Which yet again is a true reminder of the futility of worry and fear. They both only suck the joy out of the moment. Of the bright blue skies overlooking glowing cliffs in all directions. And whatever the future brings, it is outside of our imagination. That is His promise. Don’t worry about anything. Instead pray about everything. And don’t forget to thank Him for His answers. If you do this, you will experience God’s peace which is far more wonderful than the human mind can understand.

Maybe that is why God says over and over, in every possible voice and circumstance: Fear not, for I the LORD am with you.

Just maybe.

Happy.

Por nada estéis afanosos; antes bien, en todo, mediante oración y súplica con acción de gracias, sean dadas a conocer vuestras peticiones delante de Dios. Y la paz de Dios, que sobrepasa todo entendimiento, guardará vuestros corazones y vuestras mentes en Cristo Jesús. Filepenses 4,6-7

Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Philippians 4:6-7

I am reading Phil Drysdale again, Renew Your Mind in 30 Days. The main thrust of the book is that “Repentance is the process of discovering what God says is the truth and aligning your faith with His.

 “We see over and over again the apostle Paul state that while grace has been given in full it can only be accessed through faith. This highlights that, while God has given us something, our trusting (having faith) in that gift is what allows us to enjoy it.

To have the truth set you free is one thing, but to know you have been set free is a whole other story.”

And this morning my supplication was that I would live in this freedom. And really, my heart and mind feel bathed in the peace of God.

Off to a new day.

Peace like a river...or lagoon

Oh Dios, me ensenaste desde mi joventud, y hasta ahora he manifestado tus maravillas. Salmo 71,17

Pablo escribe a Timoteo: Persiste tu en lo que has aprendido. 2 Timoteo 3,14

De boca y corazon load al Dios del cielo, pues dionos bendicion, salud, paz y consuelo. Tan solo a su bondad debemos nuestro ser; su santa voluntad nos guia por doquier. Martin Rinckhart

Yesterday was certainly full of manifest marvels.

Stefano and Monica rented a little motorboat and took us everywhere tourists don't go. I can understand their weariness of endless rolling suitcases, a veritable uninterrupted undulating  river flowing past their bedroom window, day and night, two blocks off the Grand Canal. Giovanni was relegated to the neighborhood library, as he attempts to cram a lifetime of education, including Latin and Art History, into three six-hour written tests and one oral exam in front of seven professors. He is a little tired.

We first circled Venice proper, with a punctilious nod towards St. Mark's, but with a more detailed run through the Armory, the shipbuilding zone that once encompassed one fifth of the city. Then we cut out across the lagoon, past the cemetery island conveniently located across from the hospital, traipsed through St. Peter's Church, and then rode over to an island filled with gardens and a huge farmhouse now recast as an informal summertime restaurant where we ate freshly gathered-from-the-lagoon octopi, prepared in every imaginable manner with sides of squash blossom risotto, heaped about with fresh eggplant, tomatoes and artichokes from the backyard. Artichokes were in such abundance that their flowers decorated the tables and were available for sale as bouquets. Imagine that, Mr. Alan Voelkel.

Then off to an island monastery founded by St. Francis, Isle of the Desert, a simple structure available for personal retreats, tucked in amongst bountiful gardens and the always pointing upward cypress trees. Thus it is not a physical desert, but a place of spiritual solitude to seek His voice, and His alone.

Past a tree-infested Boy Scout Island where Stefano led so many troops camping, to a colorful fishing village famous for its woven lace. Here we tied up and visited yet another one of Stefano's friends and his new restaurant, where he not only creates beautifully presented seafood, but he painted the canvases on the wall and the dishes on the table as well.

Then we roared across the water to quickly splash cold water on our sunburned noses before walking into Free Art Night, where dozens and dozens of galleries, palaces, and installments were open to yet another undulating river of people, Venetian art patrons, flowing past yet one after another marvel of creativity, of beauty, or at least, of interest.

And the point of all this is that every good thing comes from the Father of Lights, with Whom there is no shifting shadow.

And It is He who guides me, He who has taught me since my childhood. Nicole's Scripture reading this morning were those so familiar verses from Philippians four, claimed by me the dorky eight-year-old, which now form a variety of my internet passwords...if you do this you will experience God's peace, which is far more wonderful than the human mind can understand.

And during mass this morning, in the Campostrinis' 16th century church where I was indeed surrounded by many visible clouds of witnesses, God reminded me that I am only to ask for today's daily bread. He is enough for today, faithful, true and full of manifest marvels.

Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.

Afterwards Stefano's father greeted us, the tall Americans, and took us for a glass of proseco,    before we dashed home for a quickly tossed together salad, sautéed freshly caught little sharks from the sea, and yet another round of the Sardinian goat cheeses. Now we are on the train for Bologna and Lugo, to pack up a few of our belongings unfit for the Way, before continuing on our journey.

And certainly one thing I have learned, like the many who have traveled before us, is to travel lightly, for He is my provision, one day at a time, my daily bread: blessing, health, peace and comfort, far beyond what the human mind can comprehend. As I say goodbye to this beloved Campostrini family, so kind, so generous, so open, who could have ever imagined?

He could, from the beginning of time.

And as Paul reminded Timothy: May you continue in what you have learned.

Holy, holy, holy

May the peace of God be with you

Porque de todo corazon ofrecieron a Jehova voluntariamente. 1 Cronicas 29,9

Asimismo, hermanos, os hacemos saber la gracia de Dios que se ha dado a las iglesias de Macedonia; que en grande prueba de tribulacion, la abundancia de su gozo y su profunda probreza abundaron en riquezas de su generosidad. 2 Corintios 8,1-2

Señor, con frequencia solo bastan pequenos gestos para hacer feliz a mis hermanos y hermanas, pero a pesar de su simplicidad, son los gestos mas valiosos ante tus ojos. Maestro del amor, ensename tu hermosa arte de dar abnegadamente con alegria y con el corazon.

The cathedral bells ring every half hour all night long in Santiago. And seagulls call as they circle the two towers. And the quiet sounds of a city, glasses tinkling and soft laughter rise and are gathered outside the open attic window on our fifth floor room of this little pension, La Santa Cristina.


And as I listened throughout the peaceful night, I considered what lies ahead, the road back home, as the priest yesterday carefully reminded the hundreds of pilgrims before him, the important Way,  the Be perfect as I am perfect Way of following Jesus, I wondered what that would look like in Tucson, Arizona, and my world of checklists and schedules and Important Things To Do.

And one of the things I read this morning was a wonderful article in Leadership Magazine, by Gordon McDonald, a man made wise through his own pilgrimage on The Quiet Strength of a Peaceful Leader.

Peace is an oft-used word in and beyond the Bible. In its largest sense, it describes any system in which there is order, justice, and security. The Romans talked about peace (Pax Romana), but their system was sustained through violence and intimidation. The Jews of Jerusalem had their own concepts of peace: a kingdom that mirrored the ancient reign of David. These were concepts of peace imposed from the outside of a person.

But then Jesus came, speaking of a peace that took root inside a person. This peace was impervious to any form of opposition. You can do away with the body, Jesus said, but never the soul. His was a radical idea: that all things start in a person's heart.

The monastics made this point with a story: A cruel warlord confronted an old monk, commanding the monk to bow to him, but the monk refused.

"Do you know who I am?" bellowed the warlord. "I am he who has the power to run you through with a sword."

"And do you know who I am?" responded the monk. "I am he who has the power to let you run me through with a sword."

This old man, unbowed, was peaceful from his core. He operated out of an ordered heart.
Jesus said his peace was not compatible with the "world's" view of peace (John 14:27). He created a movement whose trademarks were humility, compassion, mercy, and a breaking down of barriers that traditionally separated people. And this movement needed peaceful leaders.

And lest I feel overwhelmed by it all, the longings of my heart that I believe are His longings as well, I am to remember, He calmed the storm with but one word.

Paul referred to this as "the peace of Christ," and he urged Colossian Christ-followers to reorient themselves around this trait.

"My peace I give you … don't let your hearts be troubled," Jesus said to the disciples. When Christ's peace prevailed, one's instinct to hate, to fear, to dominate, to grasp and control was arrested. In fact, one of the premier evidences that Jesus was truly Lord of a person's life (or a group's life, for that matter) was that his way of peace effectively overcame trouble in one's heart, in one's relationships, and in one's connection with God.

We should not confuse the peace of Christ with niceness, or feeling good, or conflict-avoidance. The peaceful Jesus was hardly a wimp. The Jesus that wreaked havoc on the Temple money-launderers was justifiably furious. The weeping Jesus at the tomb of Lazarus was deeply moved over the loss of a friend. The courageous Jesus, ignoring his outraged critics, visited the home of Zachaeus because he wished to redeem a corrupt man.

"Blessed are the peacemakers," the Savior taught. "Go in peace," he said to a healed woman. "Peace," he shouted at a threatening storm. To more than a few, he said, "Peace be with you." Wherever he went, he took his fresh idea of human order with him.

Brother Lawrence understood this: "The time of business does not with me differ from the time of prayer; and in the noise and clatter of my kitchen, while several persons are at the same time calling for different things, I possess God in as great tranquility as if I were upon my knees at the Blessed Sacrament."

The point: peaceful leaders are not risk-averse. They have a vision of a new way of life, and they live it, and they offer it to others.

One of the (many) gripping moments from C. S. Lewis is found in Prince Caspian, when Lucy thinks she sees Aslan the lion up ahead, beckoning her to follow Him, but the others don't believe her, so they spend long arduous hours going nowhere, on nothing of value. Aslan wakes her up that night, and speaks to her:

“But what would have been the good?"

Aslan said nothing.

"You mean," said Lucy rather faintly, "that it would have turned out all right – somehow? But how? Please, Aslan! Am I not to know?"

"To know what would have happened, child?" said Aslan. "No. Nobody is ever told that."

"Oh dear," said Lucy.

"But anyone can find out what will happen," said Aslan. "If you go back to the others now, and wake them up; and tell them you have seen me again; and that you must all get up at once and follow me – what will happen? There is only one way of finding out.

And that is all I am told, "Follow Me, and I will make you fishers of men." The disciples did not have a clue where it would lead, but they dropped their nets and followed Him.

I listened (some) to a great podcast of Nicole's on one of those long hard days, about what it means to be a disciple in the Middle Eastern culture. Disciples left it all, no compromise. We cannot be friends with the world and friends with Jesus. The gentle but firm priest from yesterday smiled broadly as he explained, we have to leave it all, all of the wrongs done us, all of the excuses, all of our very good reasons and ideals, and follow Him. Because of the joy.

Because of the joy set before Him, He laid it all down. Gladly. And with joy, Francis of Assisi dropped his robes. Their nets, his robes, my cluttered life.

And the priest added, that is the only way we can change the world.

McDonald ends with a quote from Oswald Chambers: The people who influence us most are not those who buttonhole us ... but those who live their lives like the stars in heaven and the lilies in the field: peacefully, simply, and unaffectedly. These are the lives that mold us.

My peace I give you, let not your heart be troubled.

The chimes are ringing yet again. Morning has broken.

The fragrance of God

Then Herod summoned the wise men secretly and ascertained from them what time the star had appeared. And he sent them to Bethlehem, saying, “Go and search diligently for the child, and when you have found him, bring me word, that I too may come and worship him.” Matthew 2:7-8

Herod is sort of mind-boggling; I mean how garbled his thinking was. Somehow he believed the prophets enough to seek out pinpoint details written 700 years previous, and seven hundred years is a long time, like acting on a line from Canterbury Tales. And yet still plotted how he, one little old puny person, could stand against the tide of history and change its course. 

And yet how often do my actions not line up with some very firmly held beliefs? I am the first to admit that there are a lot things that I don’t entirely get, that I am still trying to stumble into practice and understanding, and most likely will never become clear until That Day.  For instance, I know that God heals miraculously and instantly, and yet, sometimes He doesn’t.  And the whole concept of time and how it fits together and prayer and grace and predestination. And then of course there is the pile of stuff that I want to do in my head, like floss my teeth, but my flesh is weak. 

In both my head and heart I believe in God’s unconditional love for each and every person. But do I plot out my day on that belief, or do I think I can stand against the tide of His love which is warp and weave of His very character?  So very much is going to be swept away into nothingness. Of so very many things do I worry and fret, and yet few are needed, indeed only one. Chose the better part.

I read a testimony today in Christianity Today by an Iranian man’s search for peace out of rage and hatred, beginning with a vision of thousands of people praying for their enemies rather than fighting. From that moment the forgiveness started to heal him, but his search continued, leading him to India and to Mecca and to selling all he had and giving it all away in order to follow any sign God gave him.  Somehow he ended up in the United States on a tourist visa and someone took him to a church for English lessons, and when he entered he thought, this smells of God.  A few weeks later he entered the service, looking for his teacher, and he saw the pastor and the entire congregation on their knees praying for the one word he understood, Iran.  A thousand people gathered there with their heads bowed, on their knees, praying for their enemies, showing love instead of hate. Since I was a young man, this had been my vision. 

Standing in the back of that church, immediately I started crying, laughing and and dancing.  I didn’t care if someone I knew saw me.  I was so happy.  This was peace.  I finally understood this was a place where I could know God, where I could know peace.

And today, as we collectively gather under sweeping tower of Northminster Presbyterian and sort through what remains of a life well lived, and what was blown away like the weeds of yesterday, I am glad that the scattering of the ashes on Mt. Lemmon will be framed with this Scripture: 

Love never fails. But whether there are prophecies, they will fail; whether there are tongues, they will cease; whether there is knowledge, it will vanish away.  For we know in part and we prophesy in part. But when that which is perfect has come, then that which is in part will be done away.

When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child; but when I became a man, I put away childish things. For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part, but then I shall know just as I also am known.

And now abide faith, hope, love, these three; but the greatest of these is love.

And my heart joins the millions of children of God who for this season of Ramadan are offering up this prayer: Dear LORD God of heaven and earth, please reveal Yourself.  And may we have eyes to see and ears to hear.  And the will to obey.