Miracles

In the Bible
miracles are the bona fides
of the miracle worker
the resume
the business card
the job reference
all saying
yep, he’s the guy you need

But is that all they are?

So some would have it
that the time of miracles
has gone away
disappeared like sand castles
the sand is still there
but the shape of them erased
no longer visible

Some say
there are no miracles
because they haven’t seen one
which seems a bit silly to me

I haven’t seen lots of things
that I’m pretty sure exist
Atoms - never seen them -
Black holes - me & everybody else in the dark on that one
A soul - can’t describe what one looks like to save mine
Met any Angels? - nope - can’t say as I have

Others say there are no more miracles
because Jesus was the miracle
and after Jesus
we just didn’t need
any other miracles
they just wouldn’t stand
the comparison
to the miracle

Maybe
but don’t we need a refresher course from time to time?
I know I do

So here’s where I land on miracles . . .

they happen

the inexplicable

the surprising

right in the middle of the ordinary

they come when they’re needed

and not a moment sooner

sometimes God heals by a touch
sometimes with a CT scan & surgeon’s scalpel

sometimes we understand them later
sometimes we never do

sometimes you get your miracle
and that’s great
but I’m left wondering
where my miracle is

sometimes there’s healing
sometimes there’s rescuing
it’s always dramatic, this miracle business

sometimes they come from the untrustworthy looking guy
who’s dressed funny and smells even funnier
sometimes they come with the gentle touch of a friend

sometimes it’s like a Hallmark card from God saying simply good job
sometimes the meaning and even the miracle are obscure

whenever a miracle comes to town
the thing that happens before – right before
is the tearing open of heaven
like a rainbow pointing up instead of down
like an arrow pointing, shouting
Look this way!  Here!  Up here!  Now do you see?


Now do you see?
The miracle isn’t in knowing Jesus
even demons know Jesus
the miracle is in the following
the living
the loving
the doing

did it ever occur to the ones
who say that miracles are no more
 that we are Jesus’ miracle
today?

Miracles are a kind of spring cleaning
when things not needed
things that clutter
things that get in the way
things like demons
are simply thrown away

Miracle work is always unfinished
there are always more miracles in the making
to be performed
more need
more desire
more hunger
to be met
when the miracle worker is off to the next town
Does he leave the ones unhealed behind?
Or does he invite them to follow him
to seek out their miracles?

And have you noticed?
A miracle is never the end of the story
it’s always, always the beginning of the beginning
Miracles are the once-upon-a-time in the life of the follower
they set the stage
but they aren’t the story
the life lived after the miracle
is the story

Simon’s mother is healed
and then
and then she got up off her sickbed and served lunch
so what was the miracle?  The healing?  Or lunch?

In the grammar of life, miracles are the conjunctions
and . . . then . . . so that . . . because . . . since . . . in order to . . .
linking events
tying one thing to another and then another
in the life of the one
who got his miracle

It is as if all of heaven is watching. . . waiting. . . asking

now you are free - what will you do with it?
Now you are healed - how will you live it?
Now your eyes are opened - what will you see?
Now your tongue is untied - what will you speak?
Now you can hear - what will you believe?
Now your legs are mended - where will you go?

All of heaven holds its breath for the answer -
told in the life of the one who got their miracle
now you’ve got it, what will you do with it?

The ones who say the age of miracles
is past aren’t entirely wrong
We did get our miracle -
all of us . . . got. . . our . . . miracle
Jesus is our miracle
what will we do with it?
What will we do with him?
Inquiring minds are asking
God wants to know

Fog

76. Fog

THE fog comes  

on little cat feet.  

  

It sits looking  

over harbor and city  

on silent haunches         

and then moves on

From Shenandoah Mountain

I have always loved Carl Sandburg’s poem about fog, I suppose because I have always loved the fog.

I find quiet mystery in the fog, whether it’s driving in and out of the soupy mists in these mountains or walking the quad at Princeton Seminary late at night imagining the long-coated stranger of pulp fiction emerging from the shrouded backbrop of its density or seeing a tendril of chimney smoke, thick enough to stand out against the fog at the magical dusk hour in these high hills I now call home.

Somehow I cling to the awe of the child who sees not danger but wonder in what she cannot see behind.

The fog slows and stills me and even slow-moving cars become friends rather than obstacles, as their welcome red tail lights show the way home.

The Ways of Peace

The ways of peace are largely untried, but successful more often than we think.

I can almost remember the moment (I was in my late 40's) when I learned that the Cuban Missile Crisis was settled not by President Kennedy’s public showdown behavior, but rather was settled with a behind-the-scenes peaceful negotiation.

I was always taught that the Crisis ended because Mr. Kennedy wouldn’t back down.  I was shocked to learn that the United States actually negotiated a settlement whereby we would withdraw our missiles from Turkey and the then USSR would withdraw its missiles from Cuba.

I felt so betrayed because what I had been taught was a lie and it is a costly lie.  That lie led me and lots of others to believe that the only way to deal with world enemies was with force and the threat of force, when, in fact, the situation was resolved not by force, but by peaceful negotiation, by talking to our enemy, by making concessions and compromises.

We live in a time when the word ‘compromise’ has become a dirty word, where everything is tinged with the language of righteousness.  And the rightness of our cause, whatever it may be, becomes the justification for force.

Thus this president, along with every president I can remember, whatever party they belong to, speaks openly about protecting not only Americans and American land, but also American interests around the world.  A public Pentagon document planning through 2020 I once read refers to military readiness to protect American ‘interests’ around the world.

And now, we’re talking about military action, directly or by proxy, against Iran -- not around the nuclear threat, but against their stated intention to blockade the Strait of Hormuz (where much of our oil flows through Iran’s territory).

Thus I am, as a citizen, literally required to ask, “How many people am I willing to kill in order to drive my car?”  I know it’s not that simple, but the idea of self-defense has been expanded to mean not merely the protection of my life, but also of my way of life.

I don’t like or excuse Iran’s behavior.  But their bad behavior does not justify mine.  That, I think, lies at the heart of the Golden Rule.  

I Am Needing

I am needing
I will need
I have needed

Bible-promised
match-struck lightening
sleeping bag embracing
computer calculating
arithmetic perfect
food nourishing
picture memory keeping
perfume wafting
capital L
Love

[Jesus]

It's All Pie!

I spent the day gathering data from last year, preparing for next week’s congregational meeting.

From 9laughs.com

It’s tedious work, but there’s something in me that likes to measure things.  Somehow, it makes me feel as if I’ve accomplished something.  I’m that way with lists too – there’s nothing quite so satisfying as checking some chore off the to-do list.  And today, I made a pie chart! (I really need to get out more!)

Today’s data focused on how I spent my time as pastor in 2011.  The results are interesting to us, perhaps, but hardly surprising: most of my time was spent in (1) worshiping and preparing for worship; (2) pastoral care – things like visiting the sick; (3) Bible studies (well, we are a church after all);  (4) young people ministries; and (5) outreach.

Young people coming in #4 may not sound all that impressive to you, but when you consider that we only have 5 young folk under the age of 18 who regularly attend our country church, and that the average age of the congregation is surely above 60 (some Sundays, at 56, I’m the youngest one in the room), I think that’s actually pretty good.

The thing that I really don’t like is that I spend more time in meetings than in  missions.  But that’s a bit deceptive, not as to my time, but as to the church’s.  I am not spending much time dedicated to mission work; but the church is.

Close to 20% of our giving goes to one form of mission or another.  Some members of the church could truthfully be said to literally be living-in-situ missionaries.  We collect shoes sent to Kenya, food for the local Food Pantry, serve as a drop-off point for the recycling of used batteries, organize Thanksgiving baskets of food for local needy families, organize dinners to raise money to meet medical expenses for a local family, Angel Tree Christmas families, and join with other local churches to meet emergency needs as they arise.

But I keep going back to #1 - worship.  And I wonder: is worship only when we gather on Sundays and the preparation associated with that gathering?

Do we not also worship God when we feed the hungry and clothe the homeless?  Is God not glorified when we open our doors to welcome the stranger?  Does heaven hear our praise when we gather in yes, one more meeting, to wrestle over the issues of the day and try to come to good, wise and godly decisions?

Maybe I’ll redo the pie.

Maybe it’s all worship.

I hope so.

It’d Be Funny If It Weren't

From tcu.edu

The absolute funniest Candid Camera episode I ever saw was The One Millionth Customer.  The lady was set up at a supermarket to be the millionth customer.  As customer 998 won an all-expenses paid trip throughout the United States and #999 won a world tour, the woman set up to be the millionth customer was ecstatic . . . until she was told her prize – wait for it – a walking tour of the sister store in Newark, New Jersey!

Boy, was she mad.  She said a lot of bleeped words – the only one you were allowed to hear as a home viewer was “unfair”, followed by a lot more bleeping.

Then, of course, affable Alan Funt came out to tell her she was on Candid Camera.  But the reveal didn’t stop her even for a nanosecond.  Even when she found out it was a joke, she was still mad!

She was the millionth customer!  (even though there was no millionth customer)

She should have received the best prize, not the other two (who weren’t receiving anything at all, since it was all a joke).

She was cheated!

It just wasn’t fair!

The sense of disappointed entitlement was so staggeringly ridiculous that it became funny - funnier even than the original joke.  The thing that still gets me is that the woman wasn’t mad that she was the butt of the joke; she was mad because it was unfair.

It occurs to me that in these United States, too often we act like the sham millionth customer, disappointed in the outcome of a contest that doesn’t exist . . . demanding our fair share of a pie that isn’t there . . . treating our expectations as reality and crying like children when they’re not met.

I would have more respect for Democrats if they stopped promising me the moon.

I would have more respect for Republicans if they stopped telling me who took the moon away from me.

I would have more respect for us as a nation if we voted for the candidate who promised to give the most to someone else – someone that needed the ‘it’ more than we do.

I would have more respect for myself if I didn’t act like that woman at the supermarket every time someone disappointed my expectations. . . if I didn’t scream, if only in my mind, It just isn’t fair! . . . if I thought more about what’s in it for you and less about what’s in it for me.

Really, I would.

What Will I Miss When I Die?

A question posed as a writing exercise: what will you miss when you die? is one I consider literally at first.  What will I miss?  I suspect from my faith perspective, the literal answer is nothing, since I believe that with death, there is perfect union with God.  In such a state of completeness, there is no absence, hence nothing to miss.

But, if the ‘me’ of now is the ‘me’ of then, if the ‘me’ of then feels the separation from this life, the me-of-then will miss . . .

The people I love . . .
     and the chance to make things better between us . . .

All of my grandson Rowen’s firsts yet to come . . .

Sunsets . . . snow falling . . . the quiet of a winter’s day . . . rain storms . . .

I will miss weather . . .

Smells . . . of clover and cinnamon rolls baking . . .

Girls in Easter dresses . . . children laughing . . . and the night sky . . .

Smoking cigarettes in the dark talking with a friend . . .

The missed chances and missed choices . . .

Laughing . . . and crying . . .

Sentimental movies . . . and popcorn – with lots of butter and salt . . .

Snuggling under a warm blanket on a cold night . . .

Seeing a new place for the first time . . .

The faces of the old . . .

Hands to hold and be held by . . .

Sitting by a bonfire on a summer’s night . . . walking the Scottish highlands . . . sled riding . . . having another dog . . .

Eating food . . . Indian food spicy enough to make me cry with the heat of it . . .

Tasting strawberries on my tongue . . . sun-warmed tomatoes with salt . . . corn fresh from the garden . . .

Waking up to sunshine . . .

Seeing a rainbow . . .

Who my children will become . . .