Christmas Musings Day 3

 Christmas Musings Day 3

A Perfect Creation

Genesis 1:31 (ESV) ³¹ And God saw everything that he had made, and behold, it was very good. And there was evening and there was morning, the sixth day.

               I love going up into the mountains. Fortunately, living in Lubbock places me near the tail end of the Rockies in New Mexico. This fall, while hiking near Sunspot enjoying the resplendent golden Aspens a breeze ruffled the trees, sending a shower of leaves down around Christy and me. The sublime movement of swirling gold against the cobalt sky so moved me that tears of joy leaked out of my eyes and trickled down my cheeks. The Romantic poets of the nineteenth century sought out such moments of transcendent beauty. The mountains afford us many such vistas, landscapes that all point to a creative hand shaping our universe…and we gaze upon a broken and failed world.

               Advent reminds me that God is not content to let things remain the same. He seeks to restore what is broken, to reclaim that which rightfully belongs to Him. The world He spoke into existence was perfect. The world I see remains spoiled. Yet, for brief moments His original desires and designs shine through, moving me to tears. Advent, that glorious moment when His glory broke through into our creaky and dark world, reminds me that He still breaks through. Unwilling to let things lie, He slipped, almost unnoticed, into the mess humanity made and started changing things. Advent heralds sublime change. 

 Christmas Musings Day 2

Order from Chaos

Genesis 1:2 (ESV) ² The earth was without form and void, and darkness was over the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God was hovering over the face of the waters.

               There is something about disorder that displeases the Lord. In the beginning chaos and darkness reigned. But God set about bringing order out of confusion. In His first listed creative act, God shone His light into the darkness. Creative act after creative act follows each other as God arranges the universe as we see it, according to His goodness and beauty. Order was established as light quenched the darkness.

               Advent, the season of lights, reflects this burst of creativity. As John would pen much later, “⁵ The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.” John 1:5 (ESV) Megan, Christopher’s wife, and I agree that you cannot have too many Christmas lights. Light, pushing back against the darkness is an essential component of Christmas. The thousands of twinkling lights scattered across neighborhoods, shining out in the darkness, remind us that God loves light, and His light shines out in the darkness, and no matter how much it tries, the darkness cannot overwhelm the light. And in an often chaotic and dark world, I need this reminder. Each year during Advent, I pause and reflect on how the darkness, which seems so powerful, cannot overwhelm the light. So, bring on the Christmas Lights, more is better. 

Christmas Musings Day #1

 Christmas Musings Day 1

Creation

Genesis 1:3 (ESV) ³ And God said, “Let there be light,” and there was light.

               When I was in High School, I devoured Science Fiction. I read all the greats and many not-so-greats. I also enjoyed, and still do, Sci-Fi movies and television shows. My brother justifiably claims that I do not discriminate between the good, mediocre, or bad, enjoying all. So this summer, when the new space-based telescope came on line and the marvelous images started to stream into my computer, I rejoiced. A new portal had opened onto vistas I’d only imagined before. Now along with excited astronomers, I could peer far out and back witnessing stunning, breathtaking beauty. It is almost as if I stand on the edge of time, witnessing the advent of the universe.

               Truly, any serious contemplation of Advent begins with creation. After all, God knew the outcome of creation. “Let there be light…,” implies a coming sacrifice. He knew the separation and suffering the initial burst of light would set in motion, and I speak of His separation from His Son and the suffering that they would endure to make things right. I find the whispers from long past transcendent with His glory. They blaze across my computer screen. But even they pale into insignificance when I consider what they herald. He’s coming and He knew he was coming when He breathed them into being. 

Still Teaching

 Still Teaching

I was watching my father slowly pass away. Two years ago, he was diagnosed with leukemia, a grim prognosis at the age of 84. Fortunately, as his condition progressed his primary symptom was tiredness and lassitude after chemotherapy. He never complained during the twice-weekly rounds of transfusions and infusions. Now, we were in that quiet place, the place of no return, the place of hushed whispers, periodic beeps, dim lights, and waiting. It is a calm and breathless place; one we knew was in our future but never spoke about except in brief elliptical phrases. We did everything we could to avoid it, but it arrived inexorably.

Here the moments drag on, but the hours race by. We make innocuous small talk all the while aching to say meaningful things. It is too late for a close hug, so we settle for a soft touch, a gentle press of the hand, a lingering brush. We gather in the hall, looking away and talking awkwardly as the nurses take care of those necessary functions we mastered so long ago and now have slipped away, lost as the shell crumbles. Task complete, we reenter the room and pick up where we left off, trying to reinforce connections forged long ago, now corroded by disease and infirmity. We engage in those anxious conversations, “Dad, do you have any instructions for your memorial service?”

Long moments pass. “Dad, if you have any wishes regarding your funeral now is the time to tell me.”

Again, long moments pass with no response. Worried that he has not heard, I lean in close, “Dad is there anything you want done for your funeral service?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Don’t care. I won’t be there.”

“Are you sure? After this conversation, I will not pester you about it anymore.”

Another long pause, “Finally, I’ve finally taught you to stop pestering me.”

Even as the shell crumbles, the sense of humor remains. He cannot let the moment for a good laugh pass. After this, the moments slip past more easily. Soon there is no response, only slow ragged breaths, quickly in and slowly out. “Sing to him,” a nurse urges, “Hearing is the last sense to go.” So, his wife and granddaughter gently sing favorite hymns. And then even the breathing stops. A nurse comes in checks for pulse and pupil reaction. She quietly notes the time and slips out as the tears slip in.

Now a few weeks later, I tap out these thoughts. Across the room, on a shelf, a nondescript white cardboard box sits. Another task passed on to a reluctant son. What do I do with this box of his mortal remains? As he would gladly note, he is not here, just some ashes to either store in a more appropriate container or scatter over a significant place in some sort of poignant ceremony which my brother and I will plan. My father always looked forward, not back, which was rather odd for a man who spent his professional life as a historian. But if you knew him, knew his own history, it made sense. So, I will sit down with my brother and sort through some ideas, developing what we think should be done. That is what we did with the memorial service, and it turned out nicely. 

A Walk in the Woods

  As with most people, I love coming to the mountains. Somehow the rugged terrain, dark swaying pines, and trembling aspens directs my gaze upwards. Or perhaps it is the billowy white clouds against a cobalt sky that draws me. Maybe, it is the delicate palate of the wildflowers poking out of emerald grass. No matter the cause, when I stand in an Alpine meadow my spirit soars in ecstasy reaching towards my maker. As I type this, those same clouds, now gray and pregnant with rain crowd around and soon refreshing rain will fall…at least that is what I expect. These marvelous mountains witness to Kohl Yahweh, the towering presence who conceived all of this. 

Look out into the deep darks of space, filled with spinning galaxies and breathtaking nova, or look down into the microbial life of fungi working in concert with plants to cleanse our atmosphere of pollutants, threatening to choke us, and you find evidence of the towering intellect. Words fail to adequately capture this magnificence. One even hesitates to assign limiting gender with limiting pronouns such as him. The Lord, the God who designed all of this, lurks behind every trembling leaf, pointing pine, tiny mushroom, or spinning galaxy pinwheeling through the dark. That God would take note of me, deigning to reveal His presence to this minute insignificant blob, stumbling through this world amazes…and humbles. The sweeping vastness and beauty of God’s creative power amazes and drives one to worship. Yet, we so often miss the point.

We look at creation, this glorious creation, and turn it into a point of theological argument. I have friends that are convinced that creation took seven twenty-four hours periods, and other friends that are equally convinced that it took eons, both groups devout practicing Christians, and both equally convinced that the other is woefully misguided and bordering on lost. I am not a theologian, so I do not understand the need for such a strong stand on something no human witnessed. It just seems to me that the wonder and majesty of God’s handiwork ought to outweigh our mere human attempts to interpret whispers from past events we did not see. When I walk through dark forests or across sunlit meadows, my heart echoes the opening words of Psalm 19.

1 The heavens declare the glory of God,

    and the sky above proclaims his handiwork.

2 Day to day pours out speech,

    and night to night reveals knowledge.

3 There is no speech, nor are there words,

    whose voice is not heard.

4 Their voice goes out through all the earth,

    and their words to the end of the world.

   In them he has set a tent for the sun,

5     which comes out like a bridegroom leaving his chamber,

    and, like a strong man, runs its course with joy.

6 Its rising is from the end of the heavens,

    and its circuit to the end of them,

    and there is nothing hidden from its heat.

Through our intransigence we have turned what Yahweh intended to be a unifying force which draws us together in praise to God’s power, beauty, and might into an argumentative cudgel to beat each other with, or a wedge to separate. We miss the point. In our arrogance and pride, we assume that we can somehow plumb the depths of a misty past, arriving at a logical conclusion about issues we barely understand. Walk in the woods and breathe deeply of Adonai’s creative power and might. Revel and enjoy, be uplifted by the magnificence of God’s craft. Look deeply into the delicate balance and wonder. Look far out into the darkest reaches of space and be humbled by the titanic scale of the universe. Let this majestic creative work point you toward Elohim and drive you to your knees in worship. But please, do not use your feeble understanding as a weapon to divide God’s body. Instead, let us go out into creation and join with it in praise the Lord of all creation. 

Being Right

 29 Let no corrupting talk come out of your mouths, but only such as is good for building up, as fits the occasion, that it may give grace to those who hear. Ephesians 4:29

17 And whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him. Colossians 3:17

A soft answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger. Proverbs 15:1

I have enjoyed the pleasure of two exciting and stimulating careers, the Army and teaching. Both careers challenged me, requiring excellence and creativity. Not every moment in either profession brought the same level of fulfillment, in fact, both provided days of boredom, pain, and frustration; however, in both, I enjoyed getting up each morning and heading off to slay dragons. Both provided enough remuneration to keep my family in good housing, with an abundance of food, and other needful things. Both require a high degree of personal excellence.

Success in the Army and in teaching requires a devotion to being right. In the Army, lives depended upon my ability to make a right, or good, decision. Each day in the classroom, I stand and deliver instruction, often on a wide variety of topics, and this instruction will either help a young person move ahead in life or will hurt them if I am wrong. The ability to “be right” has circumscribed my entire professional life. Over the years I have grown confident in my ability to sort through a mass of data and come to a good defensible right decision. But how do I use my ability to come to a right decision?

I can be right in such a way as to make “the right” so odious that no one within the sound of my voice will choose that right. I can use being right as a cudgel, bludgeoning my way to victory over the emotional wreckage of those I am talking to. We can be right and still be woefully wrong. My daughter once told me that she did not like talking to me because I was always right, and she never was. Cut to the heart, I had to reevaluate what I had taught my “little” girl. Through my actions, I had inadvertently taught her that being right was the primary goal in any discussion and that being right was a tool to brandish until the other person submitted to your viewpoint. In my zeal to “win,” I had alienated my daughter, resulting in a closed-door of communication and an inability to influence her for good or ill. Fortunately, she said this when she was young enough for me to alter my behavior and begin the process of healing and reconciliation. Being right was different from loving communication. In my intellectual hands, I used being right as a weapon.

In our current culture, we use being right to pummel others into submission. We elevate the cutting sarcastic remark to the paragon of success in debate, and this is nothing new, one need only to read a little Shakespeare to find a well-spring of putdowns. We mistake being right with being convincing. We adore public figures that, “tell it like it is,” as if their pugilistic use of conversation itself deserved respect or envy. We pour out an unremitting stream of biting remarks and then wonder why no one is convinced despite our impressive manipulation of facts. This predilection for “being right” tears at our national and cultural fabric, rendering the cooperation needed for progress elusive and near impossible. We have forgotten how to temper our drive to be right with the traits of gentleness and kindness.

We need to remember that often there is more than one “right” answer. We can let someone think otherwise without loss. Also, when listening to someone explain their views, we discover facts that may lead us to modify our own views. Letting someone hold their own view is a mark of respect and does not necessarily mean that we agree with their views. If life and death are not involved, we may need to let someone be wrong. Gentleness in speech may tamp down the level of acrimony, allowing time for careful consideration of the issues involved. Gentleness may be the salve needed to preserve precious relationships.

When we batter each other in a never-ending quest to “be right,” we damage relationship. We may win the transitory argument; but, when we force the issue, it often shuts the door to relationship. Giving other people the room to be wrong shows respect for the person. We can respectfully disagree without loss of face. We need to make sure that we stay on topic, eschewing the tendency to equate the issue with the person and then descending into personal attack. We should always frame our discussions around the idea under consideration and actively listen to what the other person is saying. Being gentle with each other preserves the relationship, leaving the door open for further communication, and perhaps, compromise. Graciousness in communication helps ease the way to better understanding. And we should never forget that we might be mistaken. The point of discussion, or even debate, is to make a better-informed decision. When we replace informed decision-making with being right, we harden our position, trying to make it as defensible as possible. Maintaining relationship whenever possible should be one of our signal considerations. When I discard, or damage, relationship just to be right, I have not done or said things in love. I cannot help but wonder how things might be different in our homes, schools, and nation if we took a deep breath and allowed others to be different, to hold different opinions, and to be wrong without censure?

The 4th

 And for the support of this Declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes and our sacred Honor. U.S. Declaration of Independence.

 It’s the Fourth of July. My flag is out, my version of carnitas are on the smoker, and soon I’ll be reading a good book in the cool shade. Later, family members will join us for a late lunch. That is how I choose to celebrate. I often think about patriotism. After twenty-plus years of service in the Army, this idea remains at the forefront of my daily thinking, but I do not appreciate the jingoism that pervades most expressions of patriotism these days. I especially do not like the snarky memes that traffic in false patriotism…well I do like the “Happy Fourth, You Ungrateful Colonists.” Those are funny. But what does patriotism mean today and who are the true patriots?

 I like the quote from the Declaration of Independence. Those men understood sacrifice and peril, the sacrifice required to make our nation possible, and the peril of taking that step. They also understood the concept of personal honor and what that kind of life required. True patriotism always involves some sort of self-sacrifice. We tend to limit that to falling in battle; however, many among us demonstrate true patriotism through the tenor of their lives. Their actions that make our nation better cost them something. For some, such as teachers, they choose a life that entails hard work and low remuneration, nurses and public servants do the same. Some display their patriotism through volunteering in often quite unnoticed acts of selflessness. These men and women truly display their patriotism with no real thought of reward.

 True patriotism includes honor and to maintain one’s personal honor one must embrace fidelity to the truth. Sadly, many of our leaders ignore the truth, perhaps hoping it will go away. They embrace a lie to maintain some sort of hold on power, place, and privilege. They fly the flag, wrapping themselves in red, white, and blue bunting while hoping that we will not notice they build on a foundation of lies. They have no honor and are not true patriots. We need patriots that unflinchingly look for and embrace truth to grow as a nation and live up to the ideals laid out in our foundational documents. This fourth of July, let us recommit ourselves to the ideals of truth, justice, kindness, mercy, and compassion, those things that all true patriots espouse and what will make our nation truly great.