TT “Compline” (bedtime): PRAYER BECAUSE OF THE WORLD

Lord, God of all breathing life, I make no secret of the fact that I am deeply troubled by things going on in the world.  From corruption in government to false information about medicines and treatments . . . from wars and threatened wars to people canceling others because true (or at least alternate) ideas threaten them . . . from deep fear of gender ideology’s encroachment to personal concerns in my sphere about crime, drug abuse, and mental and emotional health issues affecting those I love . . . all of this combines to suck away any wisps of remaining positive outlook.

And so I pray for the world, and I pray for me.  I pray to You as the Father of Life.  I pray without hope in this life, but I pray to You as the One who could change things.

I continue this late-hour prayer in the form of prayer-song words. . . .

From “Abide with Me”

Swift to its close ebbs out life’s little day.
Earth’s joys grow dim; its glories pass away.
Change and decay in all around I see.
O Thou who changest not, abide with me.

I need Thy presence ev’ry passing hour.
What but Thy grace can foil the tempter’s pow’r?
Who like Thyself my guide and stay can be?
Through cloud and sunshine, O abide with me.

. . .

Hold Thou Thy cross before my closing eyes;
Shine through the gloom, and point me to the skies.
Heav’n’s morning breaks, and earth’s vain shadows flee.
I triumph still, if Thou abide with me.

– Henry Francis Lyte, 1847

~ ~ ~

One sweetly solemn thought
Comes to me o’er and o’er;
Today I’m nearer to my home
Than e’er I’ve been before.

. .

Savior, confirm my trust!
Complete my faith in Thee;
And let me feel as if I stood
Close to eternity —

Feel as if now my feet
Were slipping o’er the brink.
For I may now be nearer home,
Much nearer than I think.

– Phoebe Cary, 1852

Oddly enough, I liked that song even when I was college-aged.  There is something very warmly appealing about it, at least to me.  Whereas a few others mocked the notion of  “slipping over the brink,” I thought the idea of being nearer to “home” than ever before was good and God-oriented.

I still do.

I won’t tell you how to think, but the status quo almost demands of yours truly that I look beyond this life and its status, for something else.  And I submit that is neither morbid nor poorly conceived to do so—because of the world.

Finally, I will simply link to the most thoroughgoing of my past multiple posts that references the song “Still, Still With Thee,” by Harriet Beecher Stowe.

MWM: a future filled with hope (995)

Still, still with God, in breathless adoration.  It will be sweet to wake, and find Him there.

TT “Terce” –> “None” (9am to noon): FREE SPEECH AND CORRUPTION

A criminal on an episode of “In the Heat of the Night” was having trouble covering her tracks.  She entered the diner and seemed to be in distress.  Her friend attempted to engage her.

“Something on your mind?”

“It’s kind of hard to talk about.”

“It’s not going to get any easier the longer you wait.”

That little interchange struck me squarely, both personally and because of the festering gobs of muck in the world’s thought and speech/words.  For years, I have generally been increasingly afraid of speaking—whether speaking truth in general, speaking truth to power in the workplace or other important locations, or just speaking my mind.  Lately I’ve taken to letting a few things come out of my mouth, but little of it seems to have served very well.

I continue to walk through the world disturbed and agitated (which fact heaps troubled thoughts upon troubled thoughts)—not so much because this particular, single person cannot frequently feel free to speak what I believe or know to be true, but because once-trusted institutions are beset by controls other than truth and its pursuit.  And that fact should not ultimately affect how I walk daily, yet it does.  I cannot see.  I fear.  And that is not trusting or faithful.  The losses mount both personally and on a larger scale.  When government, medical science, the news media, and education are corrupted to one degree or another, and when Big Tech holds sway over all of it, where can truth be found?

The Free Press has tried to be a true voice, as have a few icons (e.g., Elon Musk, Vinay Prasad, Brett Weinstein, Jordan Peterson).  Few have succeeded in not being coerced to participate in lies.  By and large, we are living in a time in which very little can be trusted.

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https://networkcontagion.us/reports/11-6-23-the-corruption-of-the-american-mind/

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The “Censorship Industrial Complex”

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“Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion” amounts to a force that has been overtaking institutions and the public square.  The terms and original goals themselves are in many ways very good, but, as the The Free Press has recently stressed with an offer to invite DEI executives into the world of truth, the institutionalization of otherwise reasonable ideals has resulted in the corruption of science and higher education (to name two).  Merit and credential are no longer the primary criteria for personnel decisions.  In some cases, if reports are to be believed, those formerly central factors don’t seem to be criteria at all.  This development is shameful:  if a scientist with stellar credentials and track records is not considered for a role because she fails to say just the right words regarding “equity,” it seems clear that that institution has been corrupted.  I don’t claim to understand the current, working definition of “equity,” but I know enough to know that I would have to use language not my own, and even lie, in order to be considered for a position at many institutions.

And that is corrupt.

And I suggest that the evisceration of truth from the guts of our institutions cannot allow for living in peace.

And that is something to pray about.

The idea of structuring these four “Tuesday Topics” posts along the lines of centuries-old Latin/Catholic/Episcopal prayer hours came rather quickly, and I did not think too long about it.  Perhaps it is but a passing nod to a tradition I do not particularly respect.  Perhaps it means little.  I don’t know.  What I do know is that I feel anxious and constrained in every area of life, and that amounts to a kind of suffering.  Just this very morning, I nearly cried after dropping my son and his girlfriend at school, both because she gave a sweet goodbye and thanks for the ride, and because I fear the life they will have to live in the future.  And then at Walmart at 7:30, an acquaintance and I shared that we were both “a bit down,” and she followed with “remember you’re not alone” . . . and I had already felt so very, very alone today.

“Matins” or “terce” or “vespers” aside, I pray to God for relief, no matter what the hour is.  Whether it’s a “mere” thought or a series of words or a breath, I pray to God.

TT “Matins” –> “Prime” (wee hours to 6am): COVID

Should medical science and establishments humble themselves, admit wrongs, and turn again to upholding truth and the best practice for humanity, I suspect that other institutions could follow.  Since truth is a bedrock for peaceful existence, I share this desire as the first item for prayer and pondering on this day.  (Three more posts will follow today.)

I find it telling that an organization supposedly devoted to researching “network contagion” began a report with these words:

“Widespread institutional distrust along with fears of Covid vaccine side effects create continued hesitancy to take the Covid vaccine. This reluctance hampers efforts to fully vaccinate the U.S. population and manage the Covid-19 pandemic.”  12/9/21 – Forecasting Distrust: A Nationwide Analysis of the Climate of Vaccine Hesitancy – Network Contagion Research Institute

The phrase “reluctance hampers efforts to fully vaccinate,” for instance, reveals a bias.  Granted:  the report was produced two years ago, back when dissenting honest voices were marginalized and presumed to be wrong.  But there should have been an updated report on such a crucial issue for the world, and nothing has been published by this group on Covid in two years.  Now, of course, honest people who have read honest sources know that the shots are plagued by significant safety factors, and are in any event not effective in slowing or stopping the spread of the disease.

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“Overall, regarding the COVID19 topics discussed on this specific episode, Joe Rogan and Elon Musk have proven more accurate and balanced than Anthony Fauci. If you are keeping score at home, Rogan and Elon are 4+ pts and Fauci 0.”   – Vinay Prasad, “Who Got More Pandemic Policies Correct?“

When that happens . . . when Joe Rogan and Elon Musk are more on target on a public health issue than a supposed public health authority, it’s clear that something is deeply wrong.

Getting a Covid booster and a flu shot together?  Consider that neither one is likely to help you (my opinion), a college student who shouldn’t have gotten either underestimated the wipeout effect and was down for a couple of days (second-hand info), and a highly insightful, credentialed MD/MPH calls attention to the fact that the duo-jab increases stroke risk.

Getting a COVID booster and a flu shot together increased stroke risk, per FDA analysis (drvinayprasad.com)

On balance

“I got fired from my job at the bank today.  A customer asked me to check her balance.  So I pushed her.” 

(That was a joke!)

For 15 or 20 years, I was unbalanced, in that I worshipped far more than I studied.  For reasons of upbringing, personality, philosophy, conviction, and possibly “calling,” I leaned hard toward worshipful and/or prayerful output.  I probably expended 15-20 times the effort in those activities, as compared to scripture study and serious reading.  Contemporary Christian music, too, in which I was partaking often and substantially, seemed more like output than input.  I would sing and play along, arrange it, and ponder using it later as a leader.

For the next 10 years, I tipped in the other direction.  The time spent in serious scripture study (and I do mean serious) was at least 10 times that spent in worship.  Worship began to feel elusive, and not as natural a language for me.  Tools and opportunities came for responsible study of scriptures, and I advanced in my abilities, yet I was still so inadequate.  As far as other input goes:  I know people who regularly sense direct input from the spirit of God.  I can count on the fingers of one hand (with a couple fingers removed) how many times I have experienced that.  But if you consider that kind of thing to be input, I wasn’t getting much of that and still am not.

At this juncture, think I’m more balanced.  When I consider (1) worshipping and prayer alongside (2) any kind of input from God, namely, the scriptures, I don’t do either of them very much, or very well.  So I’m balanced, I guess you could say.

I think I’d rather be unbalanced.  (But please don’t push me over.)

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A substantive postscript, written a couple of days after I scheduled this for posting

Quite often, I’ve been concerned with how I come across—historically, in face-to-face settings, and now, more often, in writing.  I think of two people from a study group in the 90s who saw in me a critical attitude toward their ideas.  I think of a late author-friend who stated things strongly but always found it incumbent on him to conclude his writings with a statement of humility and grace toward others who might disagree.  (I wish I did that as well as he did.)  I think of a college friend who didn’t like my periodic critiques and laments and opted not to read any more.  I think of a person or two who have judged me harshly, because of my faults that are real (yet exaggerated in their minds, I think).  And I think of all the people who have known my gifts and interests and yet have not asked me for my help.  Taken in the aggregate, this all seems like a massive condemnation of my character and/or personality, or at least my ways and means.

Once, I was better at one aspect of Christian living than another; then I flip-flopped; now I am weak with both of those aspects.  (These are not the only two aspects.)  In my better moments, I could simply rely on God’s grace, humbly confessing my weakness and asking for the forgiveness of those to whom I have come on too strong.  For today, I would reflect on the above “on balance” commentary as a sort of personal “sitz im leben” statement.  That is, some obvious Godward and God-oriented muscles have been atrophying, and this movement is partly due to the way I have come across to others in churches, and in other settings.

From time to time, I include a line or two in my blogposts that indicate my own misgivings and feelings of inadequacy and weakness.  In a real sense, the thrust of the main body of post is intended along those lines.  I have led in worship, and I have worshipped.  I have studied, and I have taught.  But I am weak, and lonely, and nearly opportunity-less, and I can do neither very effectively right now.  I confess that I don’t have drive or purpose.  And I’m figuring that most of that is my fault.  And I’m further figuring that it’s going to be God working if this ever changes in this life.

Prayer for those who have changed radically

I deeply lament anything that might lead someone to make a radical change away from faith in the Creator God and the once-incarnate, now-risen-and-exalted Son.¹

The force of human free will in the cosmos is massive, and it must be reckoned with.  Daily, we make choices that affect outcomes.  Some choices are far-reaching and have deep impact.  Yet the truth of God’s work with humans—culminating in the person and soteriological work of the God-Man Jesus of Nazareth—is not ultimately altered by a puny human’s choice, lack of discernment, sin, or radical change away from faith.  I take Jesus’ place in human and theological history as absolutely real.

Having written previously about radical spiritual changes, I have several individuals in my mind as I now share the lines below.  I pray for God’s mercy, grace, and guidance in their lives and in my own.  In a sense, all the descriptions, ponderings, and laments about bad things in the lives of people are prayers, too, but I focus now in this composed prayer.

Dear Lord,
O Thou “Hound of Heaven,”
Exercise Thy sovereignty in some astounding way
In the lives of those who have turned away from Thee.

Counteract the grim realities in personal histories!
Move mightily in souls!

Do those things, Sovereign Lord.
Radically change them, if Thou wilt . . .
Or, perhaps more in accord with Thy will and our free will,
Bring to them the stimuli that might lead them to move decisively, lastingly toward You . . .
Once and for all.

Be Thou not only near but inwardly present.
And not only present but effectual.
And not only effectual but transformative.

Bring those back to Thee who once were Thine but who have strayed so far,
And bring us all back to Thee when we turn away in even the small ways.

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¹ The name assigned to the Christ after the exaltation is key.  While the Lord’s earthly name was the common “Jesus,” that’s not the name being spotlighted in Philippians 2:9.  The “name above every name” is the one that rightly designates Jesus as God, one with the Father—and κυριός | kurios (Septuagint OT “Lord”) is that name.  https://hopeondemand.com/what-is-his-name/kurios

BMRC and ATR, Jr: Poems and Prayers

In the previous post, I shared a few things about Mom (BMRC).  Today, on her father’s (ATR, Jr.) birthday, I add two poetic passages that connected the two of them.  [I’m suspending the Tuesday Topics series for today.]  Between writing this and posting it, I found this entry in his father’s diary.

I remember Granddaddy Ritchie’s manner of speaking about God, which was at once daunting and comforting, impressive and inviting.  Granddaddy would have been 114 today, and he died in 1983.  My mother, the third of the Ritchies’ four children, wrote this in December 2019:

“My father, Andy T. Ritchie, Jr., had a very poetic soul.  Though he did not compose poetry as such, he . . . often discovered and utilized words from others . . . words of feeling and insight that touched hearts, even melted hearts.  Through his teaching, preaching, and leading Christians in song, he often inspired and enabled others to know God more intimately and in true reverence.”

Mom proceeded to share one of the poems she’d first heard from her father’s lips:

In silence comes all loveliness; the dawn is ever still.
No noise accompanies the dew that glistens on the hill.

The sunrise comes up quietly; the moon is never heard.
And love that animates the eye surpasses any word.

And prayer is best in solitude.  It seems so very odd
That long before I did not know in silence I’d find God.

Mom set that anonymous poem to music during her college years.  Her song Silence has been known and loved by quite a few, but not by enough.  It is quintessentially beautiful.  I’m not sure I’ve ever known a more perfect marriage of music and words.

Granddaddy did compose poetic prayer words on many occasions.  They seemed to flow from his lips, and several of these appeared in his book Thou Shalt Worship the Lord Thy God.  Another of these prayers recently surfaced in my mom’s papers.  This one seems likely to have been used on the occasion of concluding a semester-long course at Harding, or perhaps after several weeks in a study with the staff at Camp Gander Brook in Maine (although I suppose he’s unlikely to have had access to a typewriter there).  I share this prayer below, having read it and prayed it a few times myself recently, and hoping that readers might do the same.

Lord, to meet you has caused us suffering and confusion.  Coming into contact with your teachings and your life of unselfishness and infinite love has made us to see our littleness in so many ways.  And though we are yet young in years, the world in which we live has put pride, anxieties, and fears within our hearts.  These things, as though they were monsters of prey, are loath to let us go.  But we have heard of and at times have felt love—your love which will never forsake us.  The hold which selfishness and pride have upon us is so strong that when we have come into consciousness of your claim upon our lives we have felt a tension which has caused us anguish of soul.

But even so, Lord, we are glad because we live in hope that we will learn to extricate ourselves from the strangle-hold of sin by turning the eyes of our minds so that they look straight to You.  Though we may have seen You, during these weeks of our study, as you have walked beside blue Galilee and as you have sat amidst your disciples on the mountain in the distant past–yes, Lord, though we may have seen you only at great distances, we have seen You–and, having seen You, we know within our souls that there is none other that we desire.  You have called us, and we have answered.  May your call ring unceasingly in our hearts, that in the darkness and dangers of this world we may, by hearing your voice, be able to find our way back to you when we have wandered.

We beseech you, “Fairest Lord Jesus,” to help us to see You more clearly and more often, for the more we see of You, the more of You will be seen in us.  We would have others to know that we have been with Jesus.  Give us the concern and the courage with which to respond to the Macedonian calls which come to us.  Help us to forgive our debtors as You have for-given us.  May we be so strong in You that we will say to all who would propose that we compromise the truth, “We must obey God rather than men.”  Amen.

Claims

“Zion said, ‘The LORD has abandoned me,
the sovereign master has forgotten me.’
Can a woman forget her baby who nurses at her breast?
Can she withhold compassion from the child she has borne?
Even if mothers were to forget,
I could never forget you!
Look, I have inscribed your name on my palms;
your walls are constantly before me.”
– Isaiah 49:14-16, NET Bible

Since I claim to stand in the continuous believing tradition of God’s people from the beginning until now, I suppose this applies to me.  Right?

These prophetic words didn’t originally apply to Christ-believers.  Christians weren’t even conceived of per se.  Even if the prophet had specifically known Who would come hundreds of years later, that wouldn’t necessarily mean that this text was directly applicable to a Christ-believer.  But since I try to be a believer in the ongoing work of God, I guess I’ll “claim” this promise.

Now, how to go about laying claim.

I’m not a Sooner, and I care little about real estate, so I have no stakes to drive into the ground for my claimed land or prophecy.

I have made a few auto insurance claims (deer, hawk, and rock damage, plus a couple of minor accidents) and two life insurance claims on my parents’ policies.  Those processes have been moderately annoying at times but more or less effective.  Still, they are not the same.  Spiritual paperwork and processes are different.

At some point I have to get into claiming some healthcare spending account money for my son’s orthodontic treatment, but it probably only matters about $25 worth whether I can get that tax benefit, so it’s relatively insignificant.

I’m not a Pentecostal, and I’m repelled by the supposed charismata of some people’s clichés; it would be disingenuous of me to say, “Lord, I just claim that promise for my life right now!”

I think I’ll “just” pray around, the English words of the above prophecy.  This is no paraphrase.  It’s a personal expansion.

What is “Zion” for me, Adonai?  Is it some halcyon recollection of worshiping in some “holy place” like Cedars or the Benson at Harding or Jubilee or at Zoe or Integrity Music worship event?  Is the Zion to be an eschatological symbol of what is to come?  And why would Zion talk to me, anyway?  Forget this part, Lord.  I’ve already gotten lost in the words instead of the praying.

Lord, you know I have felt abandoned—many times over, sometimes the point of soul-death, and accruing to a sense of abandonment by You.  I give mental assent to the solid notion that You will not leave your children.  I don’t really think You have abandoned me, but that thought does not do enough to lessen the feeling of abandonment.  So, instead of trying to figure out what has or hasn’t happened with You or me, I will simply ask that you lessen my feeling of abandonment.  Dramatically, please.

My mother certainly never forgot me.  Despite her faults, she was very present for me in my growing up.  Perhaps less so in my later teens through my thirties, but after that, she was then very gracious and spiritually supportive until her death.  If my human mother could be that way, I pause to realize and express that You will never forget me.  You have cared for me infinitely, and you will not forget me.  And You won’t withhold compassion now, because you have cared for me from beginning.

And even if you didn’t choose to remember me as much as the lilies of the field or the birds of the air, you are such a great God, such an awesome and amazing Creator and Sustainer of the cosmos, that I do not want to forget You.

I have Your Name everywhere.  It is on my home’s walls.  It is in both of my offices and on my car.  It is in my son’s room and on my piano.  It is on my bookshelves and in lots of file drawers and boxes.  And in my heart.  Your name is all around me.  Your protection is there.

Great are You, Lord God of Israel . . . and Moses and Joshua and Job and Ruth and David and Simon and Thomas and all the others.  You give life, and You are the reason the world exists.  You are also the Reason to persist.  So be it.

Achilles wanders through a minefield (and who’s that following him?)

Chapter One:  Wandering

Let’s wander through the “O” section in the hymnal.  (As for myself, I’m actually meandering mentally instead of physically perusing the pages, but I recommend an actual hymnal, if possible.)

Ah, yes.  Here we find some songs that directly address Father or Son.  Here to the left is “O Jesus, I Have Promised,” and there, just over the hill, is “O Master, Let Me Walk With Thee.”  Both of those are songs of commitment.  As we journey on, we come to a song of profound worship:  “O Love That Wilt Not Let Me Go.”  And I—one who wanders and sometimes gets lost in his own, unhelpful thoughts—wonder as I wander.  I wonder about this God who does not want us to leave Him.  Some poet called Him the “Hound of Heaven,” referring to his unique, relentless, dogged endurance in pursuing His children.

Wandering on now . . . the craggy pathway leads next to a clearing.  Here is where we spot “O Thou Fount of Ev’ry Blessing” (which would be in the “C” section in most hymnals, starting with the word “Come”).  I grew up singing this song fairly often.  Its third stanza went like this:

O to grace how great a debtor
Daily I’m constrained to be!
Let Thy goodness, like a fetter,
Bind my wandering heart to Thee.

Never let me wander from Thee, 
Never leave the God I love; 
Here’s my heart, O take and seal it,
Seal it for Thy courts above.

The bolded lines of that stanza are actually more commonly given this way:

Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it,
Prone to leave the God I love;

In the first version of those lines, one is addressing God, asking to be denied the opportunity to wander.  In the second version, it’s more a recognition of a tendency, a weakness.  I suppose either one could be heard as stronger than the other:

“Don’t let me wander, God”

vs.

“I know myself, and I am so likely to wander.”

I find the second one more introspective and transparent, and of course still prayerful.  It’s deeper, and that seems stronger to my ear.

As sinners, we are all “prone to wander.”  We ought all to be cognizant of our unique weaknesses—our Achilles heels—that plague us as we walk.

Chapter Two:  Achilles

Some of us wanderers are clumsy, with the works of our hands toppling and breaking all the time.  Some are all thumbs, and others, all heels.  Achilles heels, that is.  (I myself seem to be a mix of thumbs and heels.)  The first group can feel conspicuous for being so all-thumbs awkward.  On the other hand foot, an Achilles heel is not always as apparent as a clumsy thumb—not even to the person with the heel problem.  If you have an Achilles heel, it might only become apparent to you when your stride suffers, and you might not know enough about the extent of your handicap until the heat of battle.

After a battle or series of battles is over, an Achillean weakness ought to be obvious to the person who lost.  (I speak in parables.)¹  Wouldn’t I thereafter be conscious of the weakness that led to the defeat?  What would I do about it?  Stay out of similar battles, for one thing—because my old heel problem might cause me to get taken captive again, and this time, without rescue.  Some of Achilles’s descendants, you see, have two issues:  heel problems that lead to vulnerability, and also, wandering problems that make the heel more likely to be exposed.

So if the wanderer sings “prone to wander, Lord, I feel it,” perhaps s/he will be more conscious of the problem with the heel(s) than if the words “never let me wander from Thee” had been used.  But the singing only goes so far.  I’m deeply, eschatologically afraid for any one of us who penitentially recognizes an Achilles heel and then later chooses to expose that heel, making strategic missteps, wandering in minefields that result in severe loss.

Any one of us might lose one or more battles but could still win—or lose—the war.

[There are no more chapters.  Below is the epilogue, a prayer.]

O God, pursue all of us like a hound hunting a rabbit.  Chase us down—we who have been wounded in battles.  Care for us, and enable us to walk newly, in You.  Fit us with prosthetic heels where needed. 

Please, O Lord, look on your children kindly from Your holy hill.  Consider with grace our “proneness,” and direct all your children to do our walking away from minefields.

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Twila Paris: “The Warrior Is a Child”

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¹ “I speak in parables because seeing, they see not, and hearing, they hear not, neither do they understand.”  – Mt. 13:13

Random?

A New testament scholar friend told once of his daughter’s party. She invited a group of people to spend the night. These girls enjoyed all sorts of activities (most of which would have left me going “huh!?”), as I suppose teenaged girls are wont to do. This particular group, though, had planned to share “random proverbs” during the evening. Isn’t that interesting?

I suppose that Proverbs are as isolatable and randomizable as bits from any other document in the book we call the Bible, yet there is some structure in the book, and understanding the way it’s put together would perhaps have made the “random proverbs” less random, giving them context.

This morning, I flipped open to a random Psalm. The book of Psalms is also intentionally structured, with a few shifts through the centuries, and I know a tiny bit about this structure. With no resources at hand, though, I dived into Psalm 71, seemingly at random.

I have found shelter in you, Eternal One.  I count on you to shield me always from humiliation and disgrace.  Rescue and save me in your justice.  Turn your ear to me, and hurry to deliver me from my enemies. Be the rock of refuge where I can always hide. vv 1-3, “The Voice”

To be frank, some of that rings true for me, and some of it does not, but I read on . . . conscious not only of my own life and God’s protective role in it but also of the need for Him to “show up” in various other lives I’m aware of.

Save me from the power of sinful people, oh my God, from the group of unjust and cruel men.  For you are my hope, eternal one. You, Lord, have been the source of my confidence since I was young.  I have leaned upon you since I came into this world.  I have relied on you since you took me safely from my mother’s body.  So I will ever praise you. vv 4-6

Reading the rest of the Psalm indicates that it is indeed one of the so-called “imprecatory” ones. This type of Psalm invites violent punishment down on one’s enemies or captors. Usually if not always, imprecatory Psalms end in a commitment to praise and to continue to give honor to the God who saves his people.

Turning to the middle of one’s Bible could indeed be nothing more than a gravitational kind of random.  For me, this morning, it’s pretty much where the pages fell open.  On the other hand, perhaps my reading this psalm this morning was not entirely purposeless or random.

Living, praying, acting: I must have done something good

Remember this scene from The Sound of Music?  The song by the title “Something Good” was schmaltzy and sweet, but it wasn’t by any means the best song from the musical.  An episode of the 2004-2008 dram-com Boston Legal made good fun of this particular song, and I enjoyed that.  This post is not about The Sound of Music, though.

The phrase “I must have done something good” did come to mind Friday evening as I closed out a week of parenting.  Shoot—I might have even done a couple of good things last week!  One thing in particular:  I remembered to pray about a dad-son conversation before initiating it.  That conversation, which began less than 10 minutes later, ended up being easier and more “together” than I could have imagined it.  I’m so stupid.  I should have learned a long time ago that it surely can’t hurt to pray, and it’s likely going to help in some way, even if I can’t see it.  My dad taught me to pray when you lose your keys, and I’ve been doing that ever since, so I might as well pray for bigger things, too, right?¹  I must’ve done well in at least this one respect, because the parent-child relationship angle was good, and the underlying concern was dealt with to everyone’s satisfaction.  I’m noticing the newness of this feeling, but there’s also an obvious “patting myself on the back” going on.  I’m usually more self-critical, so I guess I’ll go with this a little longer for the sake of variety! . . .

Although the work week was largely frustrating and blah, it ended acceptably and productively.  My house is in a state of what I consider discombobulation, and I’m less than energetic about that, but I’m knocking out little tasks here and there.  Planning for my orchestra’s semester is going fine.  What I’m more focused on is the parenting aspect of life.  I was concerned about two school matters aspects of my son’s school life and had been avoiding them.  When I finally did something proactive about each matter, persisting in one case for a couple of days, things turned out pretty well.  I don’t recall at this point whether I verbally prayed about all of this, but I do think my consciousness of God was a trifle stronger than has been recently typical.

Several times during the week, I approached things somewhat more carefully, with consciousness of possible God-given wisdom, with intentionality and feeling but not with exaggerated emotion . . . and the parenting seemed to go better.  Certain personal interactions as we ended the week were further indications that I must’ve done something good . . . and/or that there is Someone Good to Whom I had paid some better attention.  God, don’t give up, and don’t let up with the assistance, please—especially at this moment when I feel that I’ve done a few things well with Your aid.  I know that prayer is so much more than requesting things, but I feel pretty weak and distant, so the other aspects are not easy.  Would You please consider persisting with me now?

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¹ It’s almost crazy to realize that I was once asked to teach a prayer class for teenagers.  I’m so bad at prayer now!  But I think I still have my notes.

The bread of life

Journey date 9/4/22
I find myself positively pensive today.  I’ve thought a lot, interacted just a little, and sung a couple of hymns and spiritual songs to myself while in the car.  One of these songs was a prayer that I don’t suppose I’ve sung from more than 20 years:  “Break Thou the Bread of Life.”

In the congregation of my youth, and a few others I visited back then, this song would be used to prepare the congregation for communion, a/k/a the Lord’s Supper.  I am convinced that this pairing was a mistake almost every time, not because the words aren’t applicable to communion, but because most leaders would have mindlessly keyed in on the word “bread.”  How did I know their thoughts?  Could I have read their minds?  Well, likely yes.  Other evidences showed their lack of depth and thoughtfulness.  If you were raised in the CofC as I was, you know as well as I do that most leaders don’t take time to prepare thoroughly or thoughtfully.  They don’t even know what the song’s words are about.   They don’t know whether it’s a song of worship or a song of sentiment or a song of exhortation.  I digress.  Examination of this prayer song “Break Thou” turns up lyrics that are quite good, and they lead to introspection. . . .

Now, even movie Mafia characters can sometimes speak tenderly, in a kind of familial faux-warmth, about “breaking bread” together.  Eating together can break down walls and warm hearts.  If Jesus were in fact to break the break of life in a personal way to me, first off, I would welcome it.  It would be a metaphorical breaking, not an actual loaf, as when He was beside the Sea, i.e., with that little boy who had the fishes and loaves (or the other time when he fed almost as many).  That said, any personal sense of any kind of bread-breaking with Jesus would be satisfying indeed.  But what constitutes this “breaking of bread” now?  And what would happen?  As the lyrics assert, would all the bondage of sin cease for me?  Would the chains I often feel around my life fall?  What would be the result, really?  Would I truly find my peace?

And after all that, most of which arises directly from the words to the second stanza, I find myself feeling guilty for even asking the questions.  And who needs guilt?  (Me.)  Now I’ll lean into the first stanza a bit.

I want Jesus to feed me, to offer life-giving “bread” as I accept it and ingest it.  (I’m not sure what that means, but it surely sounds good.)  I believe He is the “Living Word” (and I think I know somewhat more about what that means) and that’s why I can seek Him beyond the “sacred page.”  Some hymnals changed the word “beyond,” attempting to inculcate a shallow brand of “sola scriptura.”  They thought we could only seek Jesus within the pages of the Bible, so they had people singing “Within (instead of “beyond”) the sacred page I seek Thee, Lord.”

That brings on other questions, such as the nature of the Bible and its individual texts.  Part of me respects the whole “within the sacred page” thing:  seeking Jesus in connection with the real events and people and faith that led to the production of the four canonical gospels and other scriptures is such a worthy pursuit.  On the other hand, the way “the sacred page” gets communicated by certain preachers and in certain congregations isn’t always on target.  Not preferring the idea that the Bible, per se, is sacred, I used to avoid that line myself.  But now, I think of the whole thing more holistically, and I figure that, as long as I don’t lead someone else to think the Bible is the “Word” above the Living Word, Jesus the Christ, then I can surely seek Him both within the pages of our scriptures and beyond them.  Moreover, there is a very real sense—at times, almost palpable—that our scriptures are indeed sacred.

I can now ask Jesus to feed me “bread.”  And, no less important, I can ask Jesus to bless the “loaves” for the sustenance of those I know who also desperately need it.  As I revise and finalize this post nearly two weeks after I began it, I think of a few who are suffering apparently not being treated to communion of any sort with the Lord Jesus.  There are very different sets of circumstances.  In one case, blame is being cast one-sidedly and wrongly.  In another situation, I think the daunting assessments are grievously on target, and even more debilitating because of the assessment process.  In another case, I’m not sure the hurt has even set in yet.  In my own case, I might be in the eye of the storm or past it or just weathering something I no longer feel as acutely.  I could go on.  And so could you.

Let me simply mix stories and metaphors to close this.  May we seek the Lord of the storms to calm them dramatically, to gather us under His wings for protection, and to break bread with us and for us.

– B. Casey, 9/4/22

Break Thou the Bread of Life,  dear Lord, to me,
As Thou didst break the loaves beside the sea;
Beyond the sacred page I seek Thee, Lord;
My spirit pants for Thee,
O Living Word.

Bless Thou the truth, dear Lord, to me, to me,
As Thou didst bless the bread by Galilee;
Then shall all bondage cease, all fetters fall,
And I shall find my peace,
My All in all.

– Mary A. Lathbury, 1877

[Two other intermediate stanzas were composed, but they haven’t been a part of my experience.]

Dad’s little prayers (bigger now)

It’s not easy, but I’m starting the new year with something positive.  Recently reading this post again about the great medical care my dad received during his final month on earth, I realize how often I still think about Dad.  I miss him just as much now as I did in August, or last December, or four years ago.  Today would have been his 82nd birthday.

I suppose my father taught me more things than I know, but the one that keeps coming back to is probably more significant than I previously realized.  You see, Dad told me once that every time he lost his keys or phone, he prayed.  And he always found them.

I’ve been praying to find my keys pretty much ever since.  I have always found them.  (This last occurred on 12/27/21.)  Of course, most of us find our keys whenever we misplace them, so I’m not claiming an existential change or advantage in terms of physical life.  The difference for me is that I’m more at peace about it.  Now, when I start getting anxious about where I might have left keys or wallet or phone, before I start to retrace steps and worry about the implications of losing them permanently, I breathe a short prayer.  The praying indicates a reliance on Something infinitely higher and more capable than I.  And I’m more at peace now (after realizing I misplaced something, before I find it).  I’m also persuaded that, if I had statistics at hand for the last 25 times I’ve lost one of these items temporarily, I’d find that the average time-till-finding is greatly reduced now.

In my feeble walk, what I’m trying to do is translate the trust in the little thing (feeling better about finding my keys) into larger areas of life.  In other words:  if I can feel better about trusting and not worrying until I find my keys, can I pray more, and have similar results, in even more significant aspects of life?