Balancing input & output

 

A paradox occurred to me some time ago.  In a way, it relates to the old computer-programming adage “garbage in, garbage out.”

I’m not often at rest.  That is to say, I’m not often simply relaxing without doing something else—or thinking about getting up to do something else—in the next 3 minutes.  I’m often concerned with having relatively high-quality input and will actually consider which pieces of mailed propaganda to take with me on a drive or a walk, if indeed any of it has any redeeming qualities.  I think about whether the piece will have anything to think about, anything I might need X (the number I expect to have) minutes to take in or to understand.  I think about the value and my state of mind and whether in a five-minute walk to “town” on this or that day I might be able to be thoughtful, or merely of a business mindset.

I kept a couple of library books around the house for more than a year because I believed they were of sufficient quality to warrant revisiting/completing.  My reading material is almost all nonfiction[1] and ranges from biblical hermeneutics and church history/issues, to a neurologistic look at the effects of the internet, to exhortations from well-known conductors and other musicians.

In sum:  it’s important to me to have good input for my head and heart.

Leaving alone the question of input quality (assessment:  am I really feeding myself well, or fooling myself?), the output of late has been less than usual.  Part of the reason for that was the different, lesser opportunities I had in the summer.  But one element of output—prayer—had been more lacking than usual, and more difficult, at that.

I’ve been told before (being kicked when I was down, I felt at the time) that when I’m struggling spiritually, I need to spend more time in scripture.  Earlier this fall, I was doing a fair amount of that.  So far, though, this increase in spiritual input has not led to more, or better-quality, output in the form of prayer.

The word “balance” comes to mind.

I once replied on someone’s Facebook wall that I tend to prefer movies known as “chick flicks.”  There are too many fights and sirens and gunshot wounds in “action” movies that males are supposed to like, and so much sci-fi is just stupid.  Someone else responded to the effect that a good street fight or gunshot wound is normal.  Then someone else wrote something about balance, as if to say “one chick flick, then one shoot-em-up Bruce Willis movie is healthy.”  The point here is not to comment on movies.  (If either of these folks had seen parts of “The Untouchables” that I saw the day before I started writing this post, I don’t think they would have responded with any interest in shoot-‘em-up movies.)

On the other hand, I think the Monty Python In Search of the Holy Grail scene in which body parts are being slashed off of an armored knight is hilarious.  The torso alone ends up on the ground, bobbing and hopping around, saying things like “it’s only a flesh wound” and “come back here … I’ll bite you, you pansy!”  The over-the-top “violence” of this scene is more along the lines of televised  pro wrestling, making it more fictional than truly violent.  I definitely don’t mean to get all self-righteous here; my standards are doubtless impeachable, and the input I experience is anything but consistent.

The paradox is that even when I’m most engaged in tremendously filling, nutritious input (read:  seriously involved in scripture), for some reason the output has not seemed to come in a balanced way.  There are more ways and means of output than prayer, and for me, thinking and writing/blogging is one important type of output, and musical compositions and arrangements represent another.

Maybe I’m more balanced than I realize.  Or, maybe not.  (Is there an emoticon for feigned diabolical laughter?)

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[1] Dealing entirely in nonfiction printed matter is one reason I fail to comprehend the proliferating desire for so-called “reality” TV shows.  When I sit in front of the tube, I want fiction.  This is not necessarily an admirable quality, and I have difficulty imagining Jesus needing fiction, but I want to be “taken away” from reality.  Even baseball games, which I love on one level, are hard for me to sit in front of sometimes, because they don’t engage my mind enough that I’ll get a reprieve from pressing realities.

Mumblo jumblo

Today, two times over, I was reminded of why men need to be in the habit of using microphones when they speak in church gatherings.  Otherwise rational, sensical men can overestimate their voice volume in a sort of false machismo: “Oh, I don’t need to use one of those.” And often, what they say, unamplified, is wasted.

The very “meaningful” essence of what I picked up from one of the communion prayers today was “mumble, mumble, mumble.”  I also completely missed any sense of (what I assume was) a sincere, heartfelt confession from another man who needed a mic but didn’t realize it.

When speaking publicly–no matter your gender–it is important to speak a) slowly and b) at an audible volume. Otherwise, you may not be understood … and then, why speak?

Exegesis attaca, *non* ad hominem

How’s that slug for mixing languages?  I’m sure the syntax and forms are mixed up, too, but it’s got echoes of Greek, Italian, and Latin.  Fun with linguistics.  Anyhoo….

A few days ago, I read my friend’s proposal to a publisher for his book on how to read (and how not to read) the Bible.  Among other positive aspects of the proposal, I noticed his claim not to have “attacked” individuals who differ with him.  Such attacks are known as “ad hominem,” and I applaud him for not taking the route of attacking individuals and their opinions.

Once in a while, I do name an individual on this blog.  Often it’s a positive mention; sometimes it’s not.  I might do better to avoid using names when engaging in open criticism; on the other hand, the criticism may be better understood, and better applied, if a name is used.

Today, I will not use the person’s name when criticizing something he wrote–1) out of respect for the author, and 2) because I can see no purpose that would be served by using his name.  From this essayist’s recent piece:

Lord, teach us to pray, as John also taught his disciples. — (Luke 11:1)

While it was customary for a rabbi to teach his disciples a simple prayer that they could use in their devotions, there are things especially informing about this request. As far as Scripture reveals, this is the only thing that Jesus’ disciples asked him to teach them. They were soon to go abroad preaching and teaching, forming congregations, and dealing with multiple problems, but they asked only that he teach them to pray, as if appropriate praying would take care of all else.

First off, I love it that [I'll call him "Howard"] starts with scripture.  I also love that Howard’s scripture knowledge is broad enough that he can legitimately make the claim “as far as Scripture reveals, this is the only thing …”).  I wish I knew scripture that well!

I’m also glad Howard reminded me that it would have been customary for a rabbi like Jesus to teach his disciples a simple prayer, and that the disciples were soon, according to Luke, to be missionaries.  These bits help to set the stage for the text, and for what Howard says in the rest of his essay.

It’s the last couple of phrases that trouble me, exegetically speaking.

they asked only that he teach them to pray,

as if appropriate praying would take care of all else.

Let’s pause to consider those.

First, about inference. We do not know that this is the only educational request they made of the Master (whether Howard means on that occasion only or throughout their association).  What we know is that 1) Luke tells us 2) they asked 3) this thing 4) at this time … and that Luke in particular has purposed to be orderly/organized  in his account.  So, we legitimately assume that it was in fact at this time (i.e., prior to the sending out as missionaries, etc.) that the disciples made the request.  Luke does not say, “This is the only thing the disciples ever asked Jesus to teach them”; that Luke doesn’t explicitly relate other such requests is a different reality than the presumption that there were no other such requests.   It’s quite possible that even weak humans such as they asked to be taught a few other things.

Second, about presumption. The “as if” follow-up may make a good point to duff-sitting Christians who don’t do stuff but only warm pews.  However, this is speculative:  we don’t know what the disciples were thinking when they asked Him to teach them to pray.  Maybe it was exactly as Howard suggests–that they thought this was the end-all question, and that when they learned a certain prayer-incantation, they’d be set for life.  Alternately, though, they could have asked the question …

1. “as if beginning a long series of quests and questions that would prepare them for the disciple’s hard life.”  (Maybe this was just the beginning.)
2. “as if they merely, genuinely wanted to know.”  (Maybe they were genuinely interested in what they perceived of Jesus’ prayer consciousness and wordings, and maybe there was nothing else present or missing in their spirituality at the time.  Maybe, in other words, there’s not much to read between the lines here.)
3. “as if (or since) they wanted to impress disciples of other rabbis such as John.  (Maybe they had only ulterior motives, wanting to be seen as cool.  Maybe John was distant and they were using him as a good example–while really caring more about impressing the disciples of rabbi Ben-Joses from around the corner.)
4. “as if they had come to see prayer as a springboard to supernatural power.  (Maybe they had witnessed Jesus praying and then healing.  Maybe they wanted some of that.)
5. “as if they were jockeying for position in the horse-race of following Jesus.  (Maybe they wanted to impress Jesus enough to be picked as “top gun disciple.”  What?  Our disciples not getting it?  Read Mark!)

There are doubtless other possibilities, too.  The motives and background thoughts of the disciples not stated.  All ascriptions of motives are speculative.

We should take care when supposing what’s behind the express written message of scripture.

Quiet time (4) — the hermeneutics of it all

In what will probably be the last post on this subject for a while (rather than thinking and writing about Quiet Time, if I have the time, I probably need to use it as Quiet Time!), I want briefly to treat the notion of “following Jesus’ example” as a subtopic of hermeneutics.

First, to retrace a few steps.  (Skip this paragraph and the next one if you’ve been with me all the way.)  I suggest that Quiet Time (hereinafter “QT”) is, to some extent, a creation of the marketable Christian world and is not, as such, a requirement put forward by scripture.  As support for this, I call attention to the facts that a) supposed “habits” of Jesus cannot be assumed based on scripture, and b) nowhere in the NC writings — in either a general imperatives or a specific, problem-addressing context — have I found an injunction that says “Christians are to have a regular, set period of quiet time.”  I quickly acknowledge that my particular personality type needs QT–however one defines it and works it out–more than I take or get it.  18% of me also suspects, on some gut level, that I would be better off spending this time right now in QT activities as conceived by Christendom than in explaining why QT is not a law.  While for me it is an imperative to resist attempts to legislate doctrines and practices not legislated by scripture, I do acknowledge that, in general, QT is a good idea.  The devoted advice “if Christ did it, we should do the same” is eminently well-intended, but the assumption that our Christ did QT regularly is just that–an assumption–thereby weakening the supposed imperative.

The verb tense in Luke 5:16 is ambiguous:  when the wording in English is “But he would withdraw into the lonely places and pray,” the Greek tense does not necessarily imply a habitual activity on Jesus’ part.  It doesn’t preclude a habitual action, but it doesn’t require one, either.  Even less to the point, Mark 1:35 mentions one instance and brings to the scenario no implication of a regular practice.  In my lifetime, I’ve probably heard 101 sermons and devotional talks that encouraged regular QT, and many of them appealed, obliquely, to English translations in these isolated verses.  Those appeals are largely bogus.  Now, if I had to guess about Jesus’ habits while on earth, I would suspect that He often, or at least periodically, had QT, but I seriously doubt that He always prayed for 30 minutes at 7 a.m. or before going to bed, or that He read a Torah chapter per day.

Now, for the new stuff:  hermeneutics. I think I learned this word when I was in college, and it’s been with me ever since, as my perspectives grow.  Not merely a religion word, it derives from Greek; a relationship may be seen with the name Hermes, the messenger “god.”  Hermeneutics, put succinctly, is the science of literary interpretation.  (Pause for excursion into Wikipedia land, where I just spent a few minutes making minor edits on the hermeneutics page!”)

In the American Restoration Movement tradition, a somewhat standard biblical hermeneutical formula emerged and has endured, to an extent:

1. command
2. example
3. necessary inference

Although I am no real student of hermeneutics, I have been around long enough to observe the effects–both positive and negative–of adherence to this formula.  (Many more aspects and questions come into play in hermeneutics; in no way do I suggest that these three items encapsulate it all.)  Initially, it seems sound to categorize in this way, and I have assumed that those who propound this method of interpreting scripture view it as hierarchical, i.e., that commands come above examples, and examples, above inferences.  In actual working out, the 3rd level–the necessary inferences–have proven divisive within the ARM, even creating branches and sub-branches of denominations, while the 1st- and 2nd-level commands and examples are more universally problematic.  Stated another way:  while few outside the ARM care much about provincial “necessary inferences,” there is sufficient disagreement on the nature and implications of “commands” that plenty of arguments can occur there without descending to the 2nd and 3rd levels!

Commands

In scripture, at first blush, a command would appear to be just that–an authoritative instruction issued by the Father, the Son, an apostle, etc.–for us to follow, no questions asked.  However, it’s not that easy.  Jesus said “Go thou and do likewise.”  Does that mean I have to find myself a Samaritan?  When we read in Paul’s letter to the Romans, “Greet each other with a kiss,” should I pucker 77 times per Sunday, or are handshaking and hugging approved substitutes?

Examples

In scripture, we find abundant examples.  Which ones are meant for us to follow, and which are merely to be taken as records of other people’s behaviors?  (Before I write what I’m about to write, I want the world to know that I have called my old friend to warn him that I was going to do something like this, letting him hear the grin in my voice before I actually wrote this, tongue in cheek.)  When scripture tells us that Jesus once (or more) had QT, you tell me I should follow that example?  Yeah, I guess you’re right.  Pardon me first, though, while I go change a Brita water pitcher into one filled with Chardonnay, chuck demons into pigs, precociously ditch my parents, sting a flock of Pharisees with my sharp criticism, weep because of Jerusalem has rejected me, and get transfigured.  :-)

You get the point, I’m sure.  In the world of examples, we must interpret contextually.  Some examples are clearly meant to be followed, others are clearly not to be imitated, and a bunch of examples in the middle are left to our interpretation.  We must figure out if and when we are to follow this last group.

Inferences

One question about so-called “necessary inferences”:  who decides whether they’re “necessary”? This question, for me, swings a heavy axe near quite a few roots:  of religious freedom, of the institutional church, of the clergy system, and even of the basic nature of Christian discipleship.  I may infer something that you don’t infer … or, you may infer it, too, but not find it as significant as I find it.  If it’s “necessary” for you, it may not be “necessary” for me, and after all, it was only an inference, not a clear statement.

Finishing off …

It’s not always easy to determine what falls in the command category,  the approved example category, or the necessary inference one.  I immediately think of a major area of Christian doctrine that is perpetually the source of significant disagreement and disunity.  In my estimation, for instance, Billy Graham was wrong in this area, having made little of the commands and examples involved, and not having inferred enough from the scriptural implications.  On the other hand, some in my tradition have been too insistent on particulars and have not found viable frameworks for Christ-centered unity, where sincere, studied differences surface.  For me, in this area, it’s a matter of a) what seem to be clear commands, b) supported by many examples, and therefore c) implications that are abundantly clear.  But for others, based on what I believe is  legacy-inflicted error, the commands are explained away, and the examples are neatly ignored … the inferences therefore become wispy to the point of non-existence.  A tough area for Christians, historically, and it all comes down to hermeneutics.

The “example” level in this ARM hermeneutical model–and particularly the assertion that “if Jesus did it, we should, too”–led me into this blogpost, but I’ve gone far afield of the initial topic!  One thing is certain:  heremeneutical differences create disunity.  How we handle that disunity, it seems to me, is highly significant.  For now, I’ll try to have more (and more focused) QT, and you have your QT … but please don’t try to require QT of everyone.  I know of no valid biblical hermeneutic or exegetical principle that requires QT or even suggests that it is to be a pattern.  At this juncture in my walk, I am opting for a more broad list of “devotional” practices, including communal experiences in Christian gatherings, worshipful noticements of nature on casual walks, special moments of closeness with God inspired by gratitude for private experiences of exercising gifts (such as musical gifts), biblical studies, some QT experiences, writing on things I believe are important to the Kingdom, and the like.

If I’ve annoyed or offended you in this essay, please know that two results of my thinking and writing about Quiet Time are

• a greater consciousness of QT in general
• a sense of increased need for QT in my own life

Quiet Time is no Christian law, period.  However, as one valid expression of the Christian disciple’s devotion, it can be highly valuable in deepening the connection with God.

Quiet time (3)

A few days ago, I suggested in some detail that “Quiet Time,” as touted by the Christian community in general, is not a requirement.  One old friend (not older than I, mind you) agreed and offered some personal, clarifying reflections.  Another old friend took exception, specifically putting forward this seriously devoted advice:

“OUR ultimate example is Jesus, not the disciples or anyone else. . . .  If Jesus did it, and we are to be like our Christ, then we should do the same.

“We should … be willing to sacrifice … to better our relationship with our Creator.”

My grandfather, from whom I’ve inherited a good deal spiritually, was known, in part, for his personal piety.  I don’t claim even to have followed Granddaddy Ritchie’s personal devotional example very well, much less the example of Jesus.  Frankly, I wish I were more pious and sometimes take faltering steps toward that.  “Pious” is not a bad word, and Evan’s struggles to show by his time the value he places on the God he loves and serves are well-placed.

I agree, in principle, but not specifically that the spending of X number of minutes or hours constitutes the “sacrifice” God desires.  I’d like to revisit some of what I said before, answering a couple of the objections to the best of my ability.

[Aside:  one of my 8,145 shortcomings is projecting my own feeling of time constraint on readers and others I come in contact with.  I sometimes abbreviate to a fault, leading to apparent gaps in my thinking. (Not that gaps aren’t there, but maybe not as much in my head as in my written or spoken words!)  So, first off, a matter of clarification.]

I had said that the tense in Luke 5:16 “is ambiguous or even elusive to us moderns.”  Here’s what I meant:  when the reading in English is “But he would withdraw into the lonely places and pray,” the tense of “would withdraw” is not necessarily what it appears to be in English.

In fact, there is more disagreement among English versions than I allowed for previously.  There may be 25 versions immediately available to me online, and the first source I checked had pretty much every one saying Jesus “would withdraw,” indicating it was something of a habit.  But this tense is not original in English.  From what I can pick up, Greek tenses are a bit more complicated to translate than English ones.  Or maybe the ancient Greeks were more intentional with their tenses than we are.  At any rate, differing translations do exist, and a few others, I see now, offer a simpler sort of past tense.  The RSV (1946 NT), Darby (1890), and the more recent, equally scholarly HNV and WEB are among these which say that “Jesus withdrew,” not that He “would withdraw” or “often withdrew,” as the NKJV, NIV, and the generally trusty NASB have it.

An English version may or may not aptly translate the Greek, and in this case, there is sufficient disagreement on the tense that I looked a little further, finding that the “imperfect” in Greek is often to be understood contextually—in this case, “taken as an ingressive imperfect,” one source said, but not all.  When I saw how often the terms “ingressive” and “inchoative aspect” (referring to the initiation of an action) were appealed to, I figured I’d gone far enough for the day.  Frankly, I don’t have a good grip on the differentiation and labeling of tenses, but I do know it’s a lot more complicated than simply saying “past, present, and future.”  In the case of Luke 5:16, from what I’ve read, we simply do not know whether Jesus is said a) to have had a regular habit of withdrawing for prayer, or b) to have withdrawn for prayer on this single occasion.

All this on Luke 5:16 would be moot if there were other instances with different, clearer expressions of a habit of Jesus, or of Paul, John, etc.  But I have not found such instances.

This morning, I have spent more than an hour in “quiet time,” writing and considering Jesus, the Father’s intentions as expressed through scripture, enjoying a wonderfully cool morning on my porch (hovering just above and just below 60!) and remembering “in cool of the morning” from the Garden of Eden.  I have wondered recently just how much “let not many presume to be teachers” applies to me, and have considered that injunction opposite the principle of the “talents,” i.e., if I am given something, I probably need to do something with it.  I hope and trust that this has qualified as “quiet time.”  It is not my intention to avoid such focused time in my own life; it is my intention to investigate presumptions of the Christian world.

Next, and probably last for a while on this subject, I want briefly to treat the notion of “following Jesus’ example” as a subtopic of hermeneutics.

“Quiet time” (2)

Two old friends commented on my last post on “Quiet Time”–with very different reactions, but with equal devotion.  I appreciate both Roger and Evan, but it’s easier to follow up on Roger’s, so I’ll start with that:

I used to beat myself up by comparing myself to the quiet time gurus that seemed to populate Christian books, gospel meetings and college campuses. I’ve since learned my method and timing for devotional time with God. I’ve learned that the assembled worship is my devotional time – especially singing – and that preparation for my sermon is my quiet time. I used to think those did not “count” because they were part of my job…. [snip]  – Roger (MI)

In years past, I faintly recall having a pretty pou-pouish inner response when preachers would try to let moms off the hook in terms of Christian activity.  “Your young child IS your ministry,” they would say, and in my heart I was going, “Yeah, yeah,” wanting them to get on to something more serious, more probing, more challenging.

This morning, I had a couple of hours with Jedd by myself.  Although he’s a pretty easy kid to raise so far, he does require attention and time and mental energy.  A few bits from this morning:

1. he reached for my hand to walk around the yard
2. he wanted me to help him use his little plastic lawnmower
3. he wanted to “go say ‘hi’” to the people looking at our yard sale stuff
4. he stood patiently beside a “customer” while I went to get change
5. he wanted to “go see Connie,” our neighbor next door
6. he wanted to sit in a chair he spied, and wanted a special ball to play with
7. he was delighted to sit in a chair near mine on the porch and read a book while I read mine
8. he needed food but also needed to learn how to put his puzzle and toys away first
9. he took too big a bite of food
10. he wanted to play some more, but needed a diaper change and then needed a nap

Some of the above (not all) translates into part of my devotion to God, for when I am at my best, I can truly be in a state of ministry to this precious little boy.  The two hours were by no means “quiet” and introspective, and I only got about 2.5 pages read in my book.  But I was conscious of my role in Jedd’s life, and the need to reflect God’s discipling of me onto Jedd.  I’ll spare you any detailed reflections on any of those items, but in several instances, perhaps you can see a spiritual aspect.

All this is to say that I agree with Roger that personal devotion is not expressed the same way in every Christian life.  We need to be freed up to explore, to break the mold.  Speaking personally, I am often the most connected to God when I am writing or arranging good music, and when I am planning worship and/or study activities.  These are crucial activities for me to be involved in–at this point in my life, much more important than a regular “quiet time” of reading and/or prayer.  How do I know this?  In the sentiment of a silly old gospel song, “I feel it in my heart.”  Seriously, I think I really can tell fairly well, because of how I feel and the results produced, that X is better than Y for my spiritual development and the growth of my relationship with God.  That would be completely moot if Y were specified in scripture, but I contend that neither X nor Y is truly specified.

Soon, I’ll reply to a few friendly objections from Evan, hoping to clarify, expand, and challenge.

“Quiet time”

There is no bona fide evidence that Jesus had a regular “quiet time.”  One or two isolated verses describing one or two instances do not a tendency make.

John 18:1-2 is intriguing viz. the relational habits of Jesus and the twelve, but this passage does not speak of devotional practices per se.  Neither does Luke 21:37 or Luke 22:39-40.  Mark 1:35 is important to note, but it describes only one occasion.  Matthew 26 describes Jesus praying in Gethsemane, and we don’t make that out to be an everyday thing.

In almost every available translation of Luke 5:16, a pattern does indeed seem to be in evidence, although the Greek tense and aspect of “withdraw,” taken by some scholars as an “ingressive imperfect,”[1] is ambiguous or even elusive to us moderns.  This pattern, assuming it is implied in the Greek, is Jesus’ pattern, though—not necessarily an imperative for the twelve, the one hundred twenty, or the rest of us disciples.

Here are a few thoughts on “quiet time” 20 centuries later:

• I like quiet time.  It comes far too seldom in my life.
• Quiet time is better, and more necessary, for some personality types than others.  (Being more than somewhat introverted, I am energized by alone time; I tend to be the most creative and productive when I am by myself.)  Not all of us are squeezed from the same mold.
• When prayer time comes for me, it is welcome, too brief—mostly owing to distraction—and often occasioned by something.  (I’m not very good at following Jesus, but the “occasioned” part does seem to have been a part of the pattern for Him, too, so I don’t think I’m far off the mark in this aspect.)
• Quiet time (now, read “personal devotional time”) is probably more helpful to more of us than many of us want to acknowledge.
• Quiet time should be a servant of the Christian life, not its master.

These are just a few thoughts, not intended to be exhaustive by any stretch.  I’ll ask you spare me 1) any guilt-inducing thoughts (“everyone should have a quiet time every day”), 2) assumptions that every Good Christian does this, or 3) appeals to populist, non-exegetically oriented Christian authors, but other than those, what thoughts do you have?

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[1] Look it up.  I did!

Blank and breaking

I’m somewhere between blank and breaking down right now.  Seems a good time to remind myself of God, with help from the Psalms.

The Lord owns the earth and all it contains,
the world and all who live in it.
For he set its foundation upon the seas,
and established it upon the ocean currents.

. . .

Look up, you gates!
Rise up, you eternal doors!
Then the majestic king will enter!
Who is this majestic king?
The Lord who is strong and mighty!
The Lord who is mighty in battle!
Look up, you gates!
Rise up, you eternal doors!
Then the majestic king will enter!
Who is this majestic king?
The Lord who commands armies!
He is the majestic king! (Selah)

Ps. 24, NetBible

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God is a safe place to hide,

ready to help when we need him.

We stand fearless at the cliff-edge of doom,

courageous in sea-storm and earthquake,

Before the rush and roar of oceans,

the tremors that shift mountains.

Jacob-wrestling God fights for us,

God-of-Angel-Armies protects us.

^4–6 River fountains splash joy, cooling God’s city,

this sacred haunt of the Most High.

God lives here, the streets are safe,

God at your service from crack of dawn.

Godless nations rant and rave, kings and kingdoms threaten,

but Earth does anything he says.

⁷ Jacob-wrestling God fights for us,

God-of-Angel-Armies protects us.

^8–10 Attention, all! See the marvels of God!

He plants flowers and trees all over the earth,

Bans war from pole to pole,

breaks all the weapons across his knee.

“Step out of the traffic! Take a long,

loving look at me, your High God,

above politics, above everything.”

¹¹ Jacob-wrestling God fights for us,

God-of-Angel-Armies protects us.

Ps. 46, Eugene H. Peterson, The Message : The Bible in Contemporary Language (Colorado Springs, Colo.: NavPress, 2002), Ps 46:1.

Habits

I’m about to confess something that may irritate even my dearest friends.  Even those who tend to look the other way and bear with the annoying or unbecoming aspects of me will likely but put off by this.  And yet….

In a single, four-minute public prayer, I recently counted 43 times that the same word was repeated.  43! Now I know Jesus prayed, “Not my will, but Yours be done” three times; I do understand that some things bear repeating.  But 43 repetitions in four minutes is careless repetition, not thoughtful repetition.

(For those who might wish to keep watch over this ostensibly judgmental soul, please know this:  since I’m a multi-tasker by nature, I affirm that I was able to pray in my heart, at least some of the time, while the repetition was occurring and I was expending energy counting instances.  I affirm that the prayer was not wasted on me.  I also affirm that the leader’s heart is not at issue.  And yet….)

When habits take over our prayers, we need to look at what we’re doing, and why.  Why do I always put something this way, or that?  Why do I always address God in a particular way?  Is it intentional and reverent, or habitual and meaningless? Perhaps especially in public praying, when the ears of other humans are involved, habitual wordings can render the prayers less effective.

Stillness, aloneness, and energy

Having abandoned my “Monday Music” series in which I shared the words of–and thoughts about the words of–worthy Christian songs and hymns, I’d like to offer something along those lines on today, a Friday. First, a preface.

I’m alone for a couple of days.  Karly and Jedd are with friends Krista and Joy, and I’m “dogsitting.”

The jumbo bag of Dunkin Donuts decaf gave me instructions.  It didn’t quit with the measuring amounts or the caveat “adjust to taste.”  It added something along the lines of “And now your day can officially begin.”  Somehow the idea that coffee has the power to begin my day is offensive, so I thought about it a little more.

I’m alone.  What do I need to get me going?  Anything at all?  When I’m still, in sleep or in thought or in mesmerized nothingness, what enervates and energizes me?

Sometimes it’s food or drink.  Sometimes it’s the sense of responsibility.  Sometimes it’s musical fulfillment that inspires or awaits (or both).  Sometimes it’s a spiritual hope or longing.  Coffee, though?  Nah.  It was decaf, anyway.

College students have for years been pulling all-nighters and using caffeine to feed the supposed habit of needing to stay up long hours to write, read, and study.  I’m not sure this habit represents an actual need in all that many cases.  Rather, the fact that students often don’t go to bed until after midnight probably stems from their lack of household/parental constraints more than from their academic pressures.  Yet they do take in caffeine in large doses at times, needing to be energized.

Maybe it’s not that kind of energy we need.  Maybe it’s stillness we need more. Meditate on the words below, and consider the One with Whom you are alone and still, in both the current and the final analysis.  There are more stanzas, and the third one here is new to me, but I’ll leave it with these, hoping you will take these in.

If you are alone, or if you feel alone, it is a good thing.  If you are still, revel in that stillness and know that God is alive.

Still, still with Thee, when purple morning breaketh,
When the bird waketh, and the shadows flee;
Fairer than morning, lovelier than daylight,
Dawns the sweet consciousness, I am with Thee.

Alone with Thee, amid the mystic shadows,
The solemn hush of nature newly born;
Alone with Thee in breathless adoration,
In the calm dew and freshness of the morn.

Still, still with Thee, as to each newborn morning,
A fresh and solemn splendor still is given,
So does this blessèd consciousness, awaking,
Breathe each day nearness unto Thee and Heaven.

Care to rephrase that?

Words can really enliven us, and they can also put us to sleep.  Consider this thought-provoking anecdote:

In high school I determined never to pray with the language, terms and clichés I heard in public prayers.  I learned to rephrase common needs, concerns, and ideas.  –Bailey McBride, Christian Chronicle, November 2010

Years ago, I regularly heard in assemblies the public prayer-words of a guy I believed was sincere.  And I almost made him an enemy by suggesting to him that he consider an alternative to his habitual introductory phrase:  “hallowed be Thy great and holy name.”  Those words, of course, were well-intended and reverent, “placing” God in one of His rightful places.  Yet they turned me off.

I still believe we need to avoid clichés.  And the clichés we set up for ourselves are just as dangerous to our spirituality as the ones that the broader world experiences.

Curses and blessings

I’ll share a few pairs today, having come off a (note lack of positive-sounding adjective here) night’s sleep and having gained thereby a modicum of clarity after experienced an exceedingly foul mood most of yesterday.  These couplets, in no particular order, will be related “curses” and blessings.  I think it’s good to recognize the former as well as the latter!  The “C” is the curse, and the “B” is the blessing.

Pair one

C:  A very long series of holiday travels and visits
B:  A very long series of holiday travels and visits

Pair two

C:  A car with an oversensitive catalytic converter (that cost us $1200 last spring and is threatening to do that again shortly)
B:  A car that made it without real incident to Delaware and back

Pair three

C:  A boy who fussed and cried more in 7 hours in the car than he typically does in 7 days
B:  A boy

Pair four

C:  A heater that’s on the blink for the 2nd time in six weeks, and a house that was 48 degrees when we walked in
B:  A heater repairman that responded within an hour to our distress and got the heater running

Pair five

C:  A house with a faulty roof design that leads to leakage
B:  The ability to crawl out on the roof and hatchet away the ice dams, and the lack of a fall off the roof!

Pair seven

C:  An old truck that it was very hard to find a radiator for
B:  An honest, inexpensive, nice mechanic that gave me a companion part for less than his cost, because he knew how much trouble this whole thing has been … not to mention that he let my truck sit on his lot for a month, immobile.

Pair eight

C:  A dog that cost us $204 to house during this holiday season
B:  A dog that makes my son and wife smile (and a nice kennel owner that likes our dog and bathed her for free)

Pair nine

C:  The need to take dry cleaning to Delaware, because there’s no dry cleaner within an hour of where we live
B:  A dry cleaner that charges only $2/garment

Pair ten

C:  The need to take probably 150 different things with me on this “vacation” related to work
B:  The fact that not a single one appears to have been lost or damaged on 5 flight-legs or in three houses

So, along with every problem or “curse” there is probably a blessing to find, as well.  I’m trying to see things this way today, after being absolutely miserable most of the day yesterday.

For the anally observant, who might pay attention to such minutiae as the “categories” under which this blogpost is filed, I’ll confess that one of my many faults is the lack of real prayer yesterday.  I told Karly that I had sort of half-prayed, half-groaned about the car’s converter warning light, and the next time I started it, the light was off.  Maybe that was God’s way of saying, “Yes, ask Me”?  Then, later, when two lights came on, I was too deep in my hole of depression even to groan, and the problem didn’t “correct itself.”  Maybe that was His way of saying, “No, really … ask Me.”

Knock, knock, knocking

Jedd sometimes knocks on doors, wanting to be let in.  This is very cute.  It is not as cute when one is really busy or in the shower.  He doesn’t understand another person’s world very much.  He just stands at the door and knocks.

The difference with Jesus is that He does completely understand each other person’s world.  But He still stands at the door and knocks.

The great thing about the following passage from the early part of Revelation is that it’s sort of a mini-nutshell all its own.  Although its book-level context is something of note, and although one could tie some Revelation imagery and references to apocalyptic books of the Tanakh such as Ezekiel, there would seem to be exegetical merit in taking Jesus’ short “letter” to the church at Laodicea (end of chapter 3) as it own entity.  In other words, the meaning of it has some punch, even apart from the larger context.  I share the letter to Laodicea here for myself and for anyone else who can gain from it.

To Laodicea

Write to Laodicea, to the Angel of the church. God’s Yes, the Faithful and Accurate Witness, the First of God’s creation, says:

“I know you inside and out, and find little to my liking. You’re not cold, you’re not hot—far better to be either cold or hot! You’re stale. You’re stagnant. You make me want to vomit. You brag, ‘I’m rich, I’ve got it made, I need nothing from anyone,’ oblivious that in fact you’re a pitiful, blind beggar, threadbare and homeless.

“Here’s what I want you to do: Buy your gold from me, gold that’s been through the refiner’s fire. Then you’ll be rich. Buy your clothes from me, clothes designed in Heaven. You’ve gone around half-naked long enough. And buy medicine for your eyes from me so you can see, really see.

“The people I love, I call to account—prod and correct and guide so that they’ll live at their best. Up on your feet, then! About face! Run after God!

“Look at me. I stand at the door. I knock. If you hear me call and open the door, I’ll come right in and sit down to supper with you. Conquerors will sit alongside me at the head table, just as I, having conquered, took the place of honor at the side of my Father. That’s my gift to the conquerors!

“Are your ears awake? Listen. Listen to the Wind Words, the Spirit blowing through the churches.”  ^[1]

---

[1] Peterson, Eugene H. The Message : The Bible in Contemporary Language. Colorado Springs, Colo.: NavPress, 2002.  Revelation 3:14-22.

MM: Sweet Hour of Prayer

Once in a while, a song that had been more or less rejected in my earlier years returns to make impact.  For me, this category includes “Rock of Ages,” “In the Hour of Trial” (thanks to Dan Cline who led this during a year of trial when I visited his church in Hixson, TN and who served as an oasis in my desert), and, yesterday, “Sweet Hour of Prayer.”

Nevermind the leaders who lead this song too slowly and who allow it to bog down.  Nevermind the fact that fermatas in the tune aren’t really observed–that’s just fine w/me.  A blind preacher wrote the words, and you may find them all here, but I’ll highlight just a few.

The call of an “hour of prayer” …

… bids me at my Father’s throne
Make all my wants and wishes known.

For me, it’s not that “My soul has often found relief in seasons of distress and grief,” but in the excruciating situations of life, the relief has been provided.

I wonder whether my spiritual downfalls might be lessened — both in frequency and in scope — by the “return” of the “sweet hour of prayer.”  The “hour of prayer” is personified in this song, addressed as though it had discretion of its own.  It’s not really as though a time of prayer may be called on to return, but poetic license permits the devotee to think of prayer in such a way.

Then, in a less temptation-ridden and burdensome light, the “hour of prayer” may be thought of as replete with spiritual fulfillment.

The joys I feel, the bliss I share,
Of those whose anxious spirits burn
With strong desires for thy return!

Those who believe, those who in their hearts cry marana tha, those who share like precious faith will be the ones with whom I

hasten to the place
Where God my Savior shows His face,

Where Christian faith and the bonds of unity are present, and where relationships grow ever closer, the desire to be together and to pray and study and worship may be expected to grow deeper and more intense.  After singing this song once in the morning, I wanted to sing it again in the evening in our home.

And, since my God wants an encounter with me — more than I desire it with Him — and since He invites me to trust, we can surely

. . . cast on Him [my] every care,
And wait for thee, sweet hour of prayer!

~ ~ ~

A fourth stanza was penned by William Walford, and I think I understand why it’s not included in all hymnals:

Sweet hour of prayer! sweet hour of prayer!
May I thy consolation share,
Till, from Mount Pisgah’s lofty height,
I view my home and take my flight:
This robe of flesh I’ll drop and rise
To seize the everlasting prize;
And shout, while passing through the air,
“Farewell, farewell, sweet hour of prayer!”

The strangeness and lack of “poetic feel” of the word “Pisgah” aside, I like the scenery here, as well as the undergirding idea that, when all is said and done and the saved soul is with the Lord, there is no more need for trust … no more need for prayers — sweet or otherwise — that request anything at all.

Hope will be swallowed up in victory, and need will vanish in the denouement, face to face with God Almighty.

Psalm 119: depressive redux

The following is a very human, depressive parody of some of the rich thoughts of Psalm 119.  It is not meant to make light of those thoughts in the slightest, but rather, to acknowledge that I don’t live up to its expectations.

~ ~ ~

Happy are those who overcome their weaknesses enough to live at least half-pure lives, and who appear to follow a fair number of Lord’s teachings.

Personally, I wish I could do more than give public appearance to obeying Your demands. 4-5

How can any young, middle-aged, or older person live a pure life?  By really obeying Your word, not merely faking it.

I think that if I once really lived by Your rules, might enjoy it as much as people enjoy great riches. 9,14

Open my blind eyes and prop them with toothpicks, so that I might possibly see one thing among many eminently valuable things in Your teachings. 18

I might eventually obey Your commands, because if I could see anything spiritually at all, I would realize You have made me blessed.

Help me understand even one iota, so I can keep a couple of Your teachings, observing them with, say, at least half of myself. 32,34

Cause me to want to keep Your rules above instead of wishing for riches. 36

Lord, show me every bit of Your love at once, and save me ultimately as You have promised.  I have way too many answers for people who insult me, and it seems to that I draw more pleasure in answering forcefully than in drawing from Your teachings and in relationship with You.  41,42

When I suffer, it ought to comfort me that Your promise gives me life.  50

Teach me wisdom and knowledge . . . but I don’t think I can really start using either of them until I begin to trust Your commands on a more consistent basis.  66

Let those who respect You rejoice when they see me, and let them look forward to words I might say, because they know that, despite my weaknesses, I do speak for You.  74

I am weak from waiting for You to save me, but I will not overtly, rebelliously, blasphemously blame You for the fact that I don’t perceive Your activity in my life.  81

I hate disloyal people, along with all those who say they are loyal to You but are not, but I really can’t say I’m any better, because I clearly don’t love Your teachings any more than they do… it’s just that I show my disrespect in a different way.  113, 114

Promise that You will help me despite the fact that I am not always Your true servant.  Even though I am not clearly on Your side all the time, don’t let arrogant infidels wrong me. 122,125

I have had experience with human misery, and this is why I have such trouble loving Your commands.

Your rules must be good, despite the fact that I can’t always see this.  Help me go against my lower nature so I can live better with You.  143,144

Seven times a year I praise You for one thing or another.  This is pathetic.  164

Whether I live or die, count my faith — whether the effects of past stronger faith or of any intellectual faith You find currently — as righteousness, so that I may be with You.  175

Look not at me.  Please look away, or look back into 1992 or 2001, or something.  Look somewhere else besides at me presently, for I fear that if You look at me now, You might just see where I have glibly passed by You and Your teachings.  176

MM: Be Still and Know

In the middle of a day week month of rush-rush-rush, never quite catching up and always feeling the pressure of things to do, this was a good song to have sung yesterday morning.  Perhaps it will do something for your soul when you read it.  Just as in the sung version, it might be good to read each line three times.

Be still and know that I am God.

In thee, O Lord, I put my trust.

God, be with me today.  In all the flurry, may something in me be still in Your presence.

MM: Eternal Father, Strong To Save

It’s not because it’s the Navy Hymn.  In this case, contrary to my conscious habit, it started out because of the music, not the words.  But it’s now the marriage of words and music that keep me coming back to this prayer-song:

Eternal Father, strong to save,
Whose arm hath bound the restless wave,
Who bidd’st the mighty ocean deep
Its own appointed limits keep;
Oh, hear us when we cry to Thee,
For those in peril on the sea!

O Christ! Whose voice the waters heard
And hushed their raging at Thy Word,
Who walked on the foaming deep,
And calm amidst its rage didst sleep;
Oh, hear us when we cry to Thee,
For those in peril on the sea!

O Trinity of love and power!
Our brethren shield in danger’s hour;
From rock and tempest, fire and foe,
Protect us wheresoever we go;
Thus evermore shall rise to Thee
Glad hymns of praise from land and sea.

An additional stanza is a bit obtuse and is not often used.  Other stanzas have been penned and made public by other authors, but none seem as broadly applicable as these three originals.  I find it helpful, from a Christian perspective as opposed to an American or military one, to extend the sea and protection images past the literal:

• God has surely given the ocean its boundaries, and yet it crosses those boundaries at times.  The reality of such occurrences as tsunamis and the fabled storm on Lake Galilee may be a metaphor for the storms of life that encroach on the normally safe territory of the heart.
• “peril on the sea” may be seen spiritually as eternal danger brought by the sea-waves of life
• “our brethren shield in danger’s hour” is certainly an appropriate prayer for those in “harm’s way” in time of war, no matter one’s belief system about the Christian’s involvement in the military, but it is a much more broadly applicable prayer for anyone in physical or spiritual danger

The music is perfect for these cries of creature to Creator-Sustainer-Protector; I can hardly imagine using these words in a different musical setting!  The rich majesty of John Dykes’s music is especially moving on the words “strong to save”:  the parallel thirds in the first line of tenor and bass (when men are actually singing with full voice!) express words like “strong to save” (1) and “love and power” (3).  The reserved arch of the melody overall is a model for tune construction, and the harmonies, cycling through multiple V-I progressions and using both 7ths and chromatics, also combine to imbue the music with interest and power.

We’ll be using this song as part of the finale for an upcoming concert in my vocational world.  I also hope the song will be a part of the spiritual world of worship for a great many gathered that night.  May we all recognize that God is in control and may be called on to protect, even today.

Confession

Confession, they say, is good for the soul.

Who are “they,” and where do they come from?  (Rev. 7:13b)   I’m not so sure I trust them.  I confessed before men and women last night, and my soul is actually a bit troubled over it.

At the last minute, I was asked to lead a public prayer at a concert, and I didn’t like it.  (The same thing happened last year, and I didn’t like it much then, either, but I at least had a few more minutes to fashion something coherent and still sincere.   I’m told I even used the word “mustard” in that earlier prayer–saying something, perhaps, about variety and spice.)

I began last night by addressing God as “Father and Friend,” quoting a favorite hymn, but quickly moved outside those poetic words to thoughts of fall colors and harvest.  I paused, with some discomfort, on two occasions, having some knowledge of P.C. protocol in public praying:

1. What if this was all merely an official exercise, enjoined on us by the institution, and what if it was deemed offensive if I really confessed belief in God during my prayer?
2. What if there were Jews in the audience or in the orchestra?  Would they be bothered by my appealing to the authority of Jesus in my closing?

It ultimately didn’t take me too long to get over those inner “objections,” and I said, right out loud, “We pause to confess our belief in You as Creator.”  Yet  I continued to wonder about the effect–if any–of my words on nonbelievers present.

Was there any possibility that those on the fence could have had their faith bolstered by a simple, prayed expression of faith-solidarity?  I doubt it.  Was there any likelihood that someone would have preferred that I not say “in the name of Jesus”?  Probably.  Could someone have been annoyed enough at the time taken (by institutional fiat) for prayer that the mere suggestion of Christian faith was a stumbling block placed in her path?

In the end, I think that what I did, feebly, last night amounted to confession before men.  I am glad that that strength existed within me, and I give the credit to God for it.  The words of the song “I’m Not Ashamed To Own My Lord” come to mind, along with the account, in Matthew 10:32-33, of a rather fearful saying of Jesus.  So far, last night’s prayed confession definitely troubled my soul, as opposed to soothing it.  God, may there be no one who was pushed further away from You last night by my assertion of faith, in a mildly awkward situation.

In continuing ruminations on “confession,” I would suggest that confession is a) to be thought of as periodically surfacing in every believer’s life, and b) NOT to be thought of as a single event with any particularly regenerative effect, like those who use Romans 10:9 as an isolated proof-text would have us think.

Being asked

It’s nice to be asked.

Nice to be asked for one’s opinion on something of eternal significance.

Nice to be asked for one’s help on an assignment or with computers or something.

Nice to be asked for one’s advice in interpersonal relationships.

Nice to be asked what one thinks, in general.

It’s nice to be asked.

~ ~ ~

I think I’ll ask God something today.

Two mundane but appreciated blessings

Last Saturday, a colleague stopped by on an errand.  When she left, her car wouldn’t start.  After a half-hour of a little worry (I presume) and calling her husband and waiting for him to arrive—presumably to push it out of the way or wait for a tow, he found that it was just not in park.  That’s why it wouldn’t start.  Problem solved; thank you, Lord.

The day before, I had gotten out my little tractor for a bit of mowing.  It coughed a little, sputtered, didn’t quite want to move, moved, and then died a great, wheezing death, complete with smoke.  I figured the whole machine, used and worn, had gone to meet its maker.  Pushed it back into the garage.  Today, on a whim, before using my neighbor’s mower, I went to try it.  It was only out of gas.  I think the dregs (read:  silt and grass in the bottom of the tank) made it act up and smoke.   It started normally and mowed normally.  Problem solved; thank you, Lord.

Not everything is this easy, obviously, but when the little blessings come, why not thank God?