johnthebaptist15

This follows on my post of August 31 entitled, “A Vision Gone Awry.” I invite you to take a journey to a museum, the museum of your mind. As you enter, your attention immediately is drawn to a painting that is multicolored and extraordinarily busy. It’s not quite Victorian or Impressionist, not exactly Cubist. Perhaps, it’s more a collection of polychromatic mottles in the nature of a weird stain-glass window designed for La Catedral de La Familia Sagrada in Barcelona by Gaudi. But, you’re here neither to admire the work nor to criticize it, neither judge it nor misunderstand it. You’re here to play a game with it.

Close your eyes. In that Museum of the Mind, with the mind’s keen eye, stare at the painting. Keeping your head static, move your eyes in a clockwise circle, taking in the borders. Move the circle tighter and tighter until you arrive at the center. Now, back away, and look at the work as a whole. You are playing the game. Can you guess what the game is? Any ideas? Look again, this time, let the focus of your mind’s eye concentrate with peripheral vision. You are looking for something – something sinister.

No, it’s not “Where’s Waldo?” The game is to see the green dragon hidden in the picture and, with your mind’s paintbrush, using ever so gentle strokes, to paint the green dragon red. Need inspiration? See Revelation 12:3.

Hold that thought. Think of the 23rd Psalm, “Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies.” Psalm 23:5. KJV. At this point, you are probably wondering what these two things have in common. You could play a guessing game and try to figure it out, but, that’s not the point. Follow along, if you will.

See Luke 16:19-31. You’ll find the parable of Lazarus and the rich man. Some will argue that this is not a true parable because it names a person, Lazarus, but I’m convinced that it is a parable. We’ll proceed that way. Perhaps Jesus had Psalm 23 in mind in his parable of Lazarus. Interestingly, the name “Lazarus” means “the one whom God helps.” Later commentators have named the rich man Dives, but I submit that such adds little to the story.

As you will remember, Lazarus has lain for years at the rich man’s gate hoping for table scraps, but the rich man has never acknowledged him. They both die. Lazarus is taken by angels to “Abraham’s Bosom,” the Second Temple Period conception of the place of the righteous dead, while the rich man is cast into Gehenna or “Hell. The rich man asks Abraham a series of questions concerning his condition and that of his brothers. The punch line is that Abraham tells the rich man that while the rich man feasted in life leaving Lazarus to beg at his gate, there is a gulf between them that cannot be crossed, so the rich man is basically “out of luck” while Lazarus is feted and banqueted by Abraham. Remember: “Though preparest a table… .?”

Middle Eastern scholar, Kenneth E. Bailey comments in Jesus through Middle Eastern Eyes, among a veritable plethora of points, that even though Lazarus has every right to enter into the conversation between the rich man and Father Abraham, he holds his tongue. For our purposes, Lazarus does not judge the rich man, rather, Lazarus remains the same gentle soul that he was in life. He leaves the judgment to Father Abraham. 

Recently, in my ever-consuming quest to read, in the words of the 1897 New York Times slogan, “all the news that’s fit to print,” I’ve become convicted of my allowing politicians to become my “enemies,” some of whom I actively despise and others for whom I merely have contempt. Sometimes, like one of my Sunday school classmates, I yell back at the TV or screen. The difference between my classmate and me is that my yells are probably not as tame as those of the classmate. By the end of the newscast, my blood pressure is maxing out and I’m spent, spewing venom in three languages on the order of the Herculean Cerberus of Greek mythology.

May I submit that Jesus would look at me and just shake His one head, “Really?” He would, and has, pointed out that it’s not my place to judge people. That’s the job of “Father Abraham” in the parable or of the Lord, Himself in the Bible. Jesus said, “Judge not, lest you be judged.” Matthew 7:1, et seq. Rather, He would urge, “Be ye therefore merciful, as your Father also is merciful.” Luke 6:36. KJV.

Bearing those commands in mind, let’s “think first, and curse later.” Should I ever condemn a person made in God’s image, vile though I may think the person to be? No, God calls me to love that person as one of God’s creatures as God loves such person. Admittedly, this is difficult because, in my view, some of these “people” barely rise above the level of “creature,” but then again, that’s my carnality talking. (Tell me YOU never felt the same way.)

How about this for a plan. First, I refrain from reading or listening to that which I know will agitate me; Instead, as Paul says, “. . . whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things.” Philippians 4:8. KJV. Emphasis added.

Secondly, upon learning of “evil tidings,” I should withhold complaints about policies that I merely don’t like and may not even understand until I have taken the time to attempt an understanding. Even so, how much good does it do to yell at the TV? Does the “offender” care if I post nastiness on social media?

That’s where the “Red Dragon” comes in. If I want to do something useful, perhaps I should analyze the situation and with God’s help, distinguish between fact and fiction, real news and “fake” news, and truth from lies. When I see a dragon, paint it blood red. Only when I have “painted the dragon red” do I have the right to complain. Hereinabove, I do not at all mean to imply that proper criticism is the be withheld. Perhaps, “re-channeled” would be a better term.

Thus, my third suggestion. Many times, I have the right, perhaps, the duty to protest that which God has revealed to me to be injustice, oppression, mistreatment, or such of the same ilk. After I have prayed about it, if I want to be heard, I should convert my words of protestation and outrage into positive actions, positive action that will help someone. Return good for evil.

Re-channeling ignorant anger into positive action lowers my blood pressure, helps someone in need, and above all, pleases God.

So let it be written, so let it be done.

Looking for God in all the Wrong Places

According to “an unimpeachable source,” and my “go-to” for quick information that is probably correct, Wikipedia, “Lookin’ for Love [in all the Wrong Places] is a song written by Wanda Mallette, Bob Morrison and Patti Ryan, and recorded by American country music singer Johnny Lee. It was released in June 1980 as part of the soundtrack to the film Urban Cowboy, released that year.” Listen to it at <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8mxIHL6d-RM&gt;

As some of you will remember, and based on uncorroborated information from the aforementioned “unimpeachable source,” the movie, Urban Cowboy, claimed by some critics to be a country music version of Saturday Night Fever, told a tale of Bud and Sissy (John Travolta and Debra Winger) who, along with many other young twenty-somethings, inhabited Mickey Gilley’s bar, Gilley’s, in Pasadena, Texas. May I submit that the redeeming social value of the hackneyed plot (boy meets girl, boy loses girl, boy gets girl back) is the basic premise that people are always looking for love (or Something Like It, in the words of the 1978 Kenny Rogers song of the same name.) However, all too frequently, we people tend to look for such love in all the wrong places, at times, leading us to being thrown by and subsequently struck being with bone-breaking force by, a mechanical bull as did Bud in the movie.

By now, I suspect that you expect that what will follow is a sermonette about seeking God as true love instead of all the things the earth has to offer – and, you’d be wrong. Please refer back to the title of the piece, Looking for GOD in all the Wrong Places. May I explain?

My morning habit includes three cups of coffee interspersed between headline articles in the New York Times, AP News, and BBC News. I cap these off with AL.COM for local flavor. Thus, by nine o’clock, I’m thoroughly caffeine-buzzed yet strangely depressed. I do not recommend this as a good routine in which to engage before your daily Bible study and prayer time. However, the other day, a notion worked its way into my head that I should reconsider not my news-reading, but what I did with the news I read. What if instead of asking the mental question, “What have these idiots done today,” I ask the question, “What has GOD done today?” What if every day I search, not for the news of the day, but for God in the news and in the lives of people?

Jesus said, “My Father is always at work.” John 5:17. Always. – not Do I suggest that God causes everything in the news? No, I do not. I am not a fatalist, not even a Calvinist, (though I do admit to fatalistic tendencies sometimes.) Do I believe that God is surprised by the things that transpire in the news? Again, no, though I joke that some things are so “off the wall” that they cause one to wonder. I submit that people have choices, and choices have consequences. It appears that the consequences make for good reading in the news. May I further submit that some people like to read about a good train-wreck sometimes. That’s why God made NASCAR and bubble-headed starlets (with or without talent.)

Even in those tongue-in-cheek examples, and even in all the wrong places, God is working. We just have to look for the evidence of such work. Perhaps, in the long-run, that’s a much more rewarding and profitable enterprise.

As I think on the subject, my conclusion is that many times, while it may be a good exercise to see the evidence of God at work in national and international affairs, there’s probably not much we can or should do about it. However, occasionally, perhaps, more than occasionally, we find God doing something in which we should involve ourselves.

An expanded reading of John 5:17 quotes Jesus “In his defense, Jesus said to them, ‘My Father is always at his work to this very day, and I too am working.” “I, too am working,” hmm, Jesus was always working because the Father was always working, and Jesus was His Father’s Son, was He not. That’s just what Jesus did, and may I submit that is what he calls “we people” to do as well.  Are we not the Father’s sons and daughters (at least, by adoption) as well? 

I am quite fond of quoting Henry Blackaby in Experiencing God: Knowing and Doing the Will of God (1990) for the proposition that the call placed upon the lives of Christians is to emulate the life of Jesus, not least in that facet of seeking out and finding what God is doing and then joining in. Such occupation may be dangerous, look where it led Jesus, the Twelve Apostles, the Apostle Paul, and countless others. Nonetheless, it will never be dull because God is, in fact, always doing something and something that counts in a spiritual sense.

Perhaps, that’s the key to happiness and blessedness. May God grant me the vision to see Himself at work in the world amidst all the evil, the understanding, on a carrier wave in the background above all the noise and distraction, to realize how I am to join Him in His work, and the courage,  just about, but not quite, overwhelmed by a myriad of strangling emotions to “Just Do it! Swoosh!”

So let it be written, so let it be done.

In beginning to pray one day this week, God gave me a vision, a perception, an extended guided imagery, a projection, perhaps, an in-vention . . .  I don’t know what you would call it. Be that as it may, in this “awareness,” I could see God afar off in His celestial place, “out there,” somewhere and not here.[1] I wanted to be with Him, and I uttered a prayer for the ability to do that… I waited. I think I ran out of patience because I lost it as my mind wandered to lesser things. I closed down hoping to hear from Him again.

“Again” came in two parts, and it was not a vision, rather His lesson came on YouTube^® and Facebook, ^®, and both parts from”preachers” no less – what a concept. Part one came from the Letter of James, the second from the Book of Esther.

On Wednesday nights, staff pastors from my church give an on-line “mini-lesson” after which, on Sundays, we discuss the lesson in Zoom Sunday school. We are going through the Letter of James. After Wednesday night and again the subsequent Sunday school, the point that stuck with me was how we “pious” folk can be religious snobs, but we can also be “inverted” religious snobs.

My brothers and sisters, believers in our glorious Lord Jesus Christ must not show favoritism.  Suppose a man comes into your meeting wearing a gold ring and fine clothes, and a poor man in filthy old clothes also comes in.  If you show special attention to the man wearing fine clothes and say, “Here’s a good seat for you,” but say to the poor man, “You stand there” or “Sit on the floor by my feet,”  have you not discriminated among yourselves and become judges with evil thoughts? James 2:2-4. NIV.

Our pastors pointed out that one can show the condemned “favoritism” both by giving preference to the rich and, conversely, by shunning the rich. In other words, when one singles out for scorn, a person, or a group or “tribe,” for that matter, be such person or group powerful or not, the scornful one sins. “Blessed is the man that walketh not in the counsel of the ungodly, nor standeth in the way of sinners, nor sitteth in the seat of the scornful.” Psalm 1:1. KJV. It’s bad either way.

In Sunday school, the class engaged in a far-reaching discussion of the Jacobite passage. The discussion led to politics, always a dangerous place to go. I commented that in prayer, I was engaging in what I call “Reflective” or “Parallel Structured” prayer. One starts with a thankful thought, as though on paper with two columns, paralleled or mirrored by a request of God on the same general subject across the page.  Example: “Thank You, Holy Father, for my church.” Paralleled by, “Holy Father, bless the pastors and keep them healthy.”

I was thanking God for the myriad upon myriad of freedoms that we enjoy in this country. In my parallel request, I was going to ask for God’s blessing on certain officials or political candidates. At that point, I thought, and actually verbalized to the class, “I don’t want God to bless certain ones.”

As the words left my mouth, I realized the same thought stated by an astute class member who pointed out that such was James’ point. That was favoritism, albeit “inverted favoritism.” Could I not want to pray for one person or group because I didn’t like their politics? As one might find on Facebook, ^® “That’s just wrong.” God forgive me. At least, He called my sin to my attention, and I shall endeavor to love all people even if they are – you know . . . “them.”

A couple of hours after the Sunday School class, I was viewing the playback of the sermon from my “other” church, the one in California. (You see, I’ve got my denominations and coasts covered.) The pastor finished up a multi-week study of the Book of Esther.” In the penultimate chapter, Chapter 9, the pastor pointed out, that the Jews were allowed to take up the sword against their oppressors. He joked that the point was that if one were faithful to God, one would be able to “take up the sword” against one’s enemies and to take their goods as spoil. Everyone knew that was certainly not the real point.

But then, I thought, that joke is exactly what I do against my political enemies, though my “sword” is the spoken word, and though the “pointed” words are not spoken outside my house. Again – wrong. In the Lucan recounting of the “Sermon on the Mount, Jesus says, “But to you who are listening I say: Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you.” Luke 6:27,28. NIV. In Matthew’s account of the same Sermon, Jesus says, “Do not judge, or you too will be judged. For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you.” Matthew 5:1,2. NIV.

God completed this “vision” differently from what I would have imagined. As you will remember, at the outset, I entered into the vision but became distracted. On the other hand, God is NEVER distracted, and the vision isn’t over until HE says it’s over.

So let it be written, so let it be done.

---

[1] Theologically, it is my belief that though God is transcendent, He is also immanent, meaning that He, in fact, is here at the same time that He is not here. Humor me for the sake of the story.

(An elevator door opens stage right to reveal the Narrator, a middle-aged man with close-cropped dark hair and dark, bushy eyebrows. His brow is wrinkled in a serious and earnest expression. He wears a dark-colored three-button suit with narrow lapels, circa. 1960. The middle suit button is fastened. An equally skinny neck-tie is tied neatly in a small knot encircling his white collar. He holds a lit cigarette in his left hand. The stage lighting creates deep shadows in the picture he wants you to see. A tight, white, hot-spot on the Narrator darkens the remainder of the stage by contrast. The scene is starkly black and white. Smoke billows from his cigarette. He stares almost intimately into your eyes.)

(Narrator:) “Imagine, if you will, a man, John Blue, to be specific, but names don’t matter here. He could be anyone: the butcher, the baker, the candlestick-maker – anyone. He could be a skid-row bum or a Bishop. He could be me. . . He could be you. (Gravely, and with a punch.) He has just crossed into the Insight Zone.” Lights dim. Exit Narrator.)

(Enter John, center-stage. Spot comes up three-quarters tight. After an uncomfortably long pause, he speaks to the audience:) “Ah. . . ‘hello, Darkness, My Old Friend,’ apparently, ‘pride’ is a subject of great interest to me, so much so that ‘I’ve come to talk with you again.”

(High-pitched, sarcastic voice offstage:) “Maybe it’s because you are full of yourself and prideful.”

(John, continues his stare at the audience. He is somewhat scornful of the Voice interrupting him.

(John, to the voice located somewhere over the audience:) “Surely not!”

(Voice:) “Oh, really?”

(John:) “Really.”

(Voice:) “Do you realize that you’ve written about ‘pride’ more than four times since April? ‘The Lady doth protest too much methinks.”

(John:) “Are you calling me a ‘lady?”

(Voice:) “No, fool, I’m quoting Shakespeare, Hamlet, Act III, Scene II, to be precise.”

(John:) “Now, who’s being prideful and a bit pretentious? I know you just looked the quote up on Wikipedia. Get back into your cage!”

(Voice:) “No, I’m not through yet! I’ve just started. Why don’t you write about how you were going to send Pastor Alan an email and correct today’s sermon about ‘pride?’ Why don’t you say that you were fired up to do it, but then you Googled the point and found out that he was correct after all? Do you have some sort of need to be the ‘smartest guy in the room?’ You do know, don’t you, that he already was ‘way ahead of you on the point?

(John:) “And that point was . . .”

(Voice, interrupting:) “Chapter 6 of Esther where Haman is jealous of Mordechai’s honor and is going to have him impaled on his very own fifty-foot pole. You were going to make something of that, weren’t you? The point is not the how of Haman’s ‘high-flying’ end, but the why of his sad tale. Why, I remember a piece that you wrote entitled, Pride Goeth Before a Fall; Great Pride Goeth Before a Great Fall. Do you remember that one?”

(John:) “Of course. I remember most of my stuff. I thought it was pretty good.”

(Voice:) “Oh, please . . .”

(John:) “No, I mean it. I thought the point was well made. The Proverbs say that ‘pride goes before a fall,’ and I added….’ and great pride goes before a great fall.’ Catchy, don’t you think?”

(Voice:) “Catchy? Nobody’s said that in twenty years.

(John:) “Well, I just did.”

(Voice:) Now, there you go again – beginning everything with ‘I.”

(John:) “I did not. I began that sentence with, ‘Well . . .”

(Voice:) “And that’s supposed to count?”

(John:) “I see your point. Err, I mean. . . ‘point well taken.”

(Voice:) “Oh, for crying out loud. ‘You’re so vain. You prob’ly think [this bit] is about you, don’t you?”

(John, interrupts:) “Wait, ‘You’re So Vain,’ that would be a good song title.”

(Voice, dripping with sarcasm:) “It’s been done.”

(John:) “Oh, I see your point.”

(Voice:) “. . . And, yet again.”

(John:) “Yet, again, what?

(Voice, annoyed:) “Beginning your sentence with ‘I.’ And, don’t tell me that you began the sentence with, ‘Oh.”

(John:) “Why are you interrupting my story? Why are you in my spot-light? Why are you making me humiliate myself in front of all the hundreds of people who read my stuff?

(Voice, amused:) “Hundreds, are you serious? Do seriously think that hundreds of people read your stuff? You’re lucky if it’s ten. You’re worse off than I thought. You make Haman look like ‘Clark Kent, mild-mannered reporter.’ Except that you’re not Superman inside the white shirt. You’re just an arrogant blow-hard!”

(John:) “Blow-hard? Now, who’s using archaic phraseology?”

(John purses his lips, looks up, then from side to side. He hesitates – thinking – considering.) Perhaps . . . perhaps, you’re right. I do seem to come on a bit strong sometimes, don’t I? But I don’t do it with people – usually – I just do it with you.”

(Voice:) “That’s because I am you. I’m the voice inside your head.”

(John:) “Yeah, yeah, and ‘I am the mask you wear. . .”

(Voice:) “Well, ‘it’s me they hear’ . . . Oh, wait, we’ve devolved into Phantom of the Opera lyrics.”

(John:) “Yeah, I was thinking that too. Perhaps, it’s time to drop the curtain. I get the point. I’m still too proud, and that won’t end well for me, will it? I’ll talk to God about that.”

(Voice:) Now that’s the smartest thing you’ve said all day though I strongly suspect that He’s already heard you on this. But, coming clean would be the thing to do. Just imagine, a ‘pride-less John Blue….’ Naa, it’ll never happen.”

(John:) “It could. Honest. It could. God could take it away – if I wanted Him to.”

(Voice, repeating slowly:) “If I wanted Him to. ‘Aye, there’s the rub.”

(John:) “Cool it, Lord Hamlet. You win. I stand convicted. Pride, yet again. Thanks for calling it to my attention. Somehow though, I feel better- now that I’ve owned up to it. I think you can go back into your cage.”

(Voice:) “OK, I’m going. But you do need to work on ‘pride,’ don’t you? Just remember this, ‘I’ll be back.”

(John, trying to sound triumphant, but honestly – just busted:) “Sure. But, did you have to sign off doing a lame Arnold Schwarzenegger?”

(Stage goes dark. The sound of exiting footsteps can be heard in the dark.)

(Narrator, voice only, dark stage continues:) “Yes, he will be back because, you see, pride always lurks just beneath the surface of John Blue – just beneath the surface of each of us. And, every once in a while. . . it surfaces. Good night.”

So let it be written, so let it be done.

Birds can fly. They don’t think about flying; they fly. They don’t wonder how they can fly; they just fly. Birds don’t wonder why they can fly; they fly. Birds express their bird-brain – sized faith in flying – by flying. Perhaps, human faith is like that. We have faith that God can and will do what He says He can and will do – or we don’t. It’s a matter of faith. 

Jesus talked about the birds in the Sermon on the Mount. See Matthew 5, KJV.

Behold the fowls of the air [birds]: for they sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feedeth them. Are ye not much better than they? Which of you by taking thought can add one cubit unto his stature? … 

O ye of little faith?

Therefore, take no thought, saying, what shall we eat? or, what shall we drink? or, wherewithal shall we be clothed? (For after all these things do the Gentiles seek:) for your heavenly Father knoweth that ye have need of all these things.

 But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness, and all these things shall be added unto you.

As I sat in my “Mind Palace” praying and troubled on a hot, August day, I tried to still my mind, but there were too many distractions, most notable and annoying of which were the myriad minions of mechanized yard equipment encircling me and threatening to overrun my position like one of Rommel’s Panzer Divisions. 

Eventually, I closed my eyes, stopped the ears of my mind, and found myself soaring in space as is frequently the case when I search for the “Mind Palace.” This time, though, I buzzed around much like an incessant house fly. There, God /Jesus sat in His accustomed place in a full lotus position, hanging effortlessly above the Earth. I, on the other hand, couldn’t seem to land beside Him. I was too much vexed with the world. 

As I buzzed around compulsively darting, diving and climbing near the Lord, a flutter of sparrows bore down on me like airport birds zooming into a jet’s engines. (OK, birds don’t fly in space, I get it, it’s a metaphor. Indulge me.) 

I “ducked” to avoid a collision, myself, narrowly missing being sucked into their wake. Cocking his head to the left and staring at me for a minute, God /Jesus broke the verbal silence, “Stop for a moment and watch the birds. Unstop your ears and listen to their chipping. I’m going to show you something, and there’s something you need to hear.” In a moment, the birds were (was?) all my mind could see, and gone was the rumble of the Afrikakorps. At that, God explained the bird’s faith in flying and how it was related to my faith and our faith or lack thereof. 

“The way a bird exercises his faith in flying is by flying,” He began, “The way a human exercises his/her faith, grows his faith, proves her faith is to use ‘faith’ as a verb, a transitive verb.” (Really, you’re going English-major on me?)

Merriam Webster, as quoted by Marissa Shrock in Faith as a Verb, (marissashrick.com) states that “the use of ‘faith’ as a transitive verb… is archaic.” Ms. Shrock advocates the use of this archaism as it applies to one’s faith in God. I concur. To use “faith” in its modern sense makes the word assume a passive state. Nothing about faith should be passive. “To faith” God is the most active verb I know. 

God continued, “I know that you look at the world and don’t think that it’s going to get any better. You have decided that you will die, and the world will be no better – News flash, You’re right. Mankind left alone will only dissolve into chaos. That’s a law both of physics and sociology.”

“But here’s the difference. On a day certain to Me, though not to you, I, even I, will return, in living color, and I will make all things new – all things. Every person will be in the right relationship with me. Every person will be in the right relationship with every other person. Every person will be in the right relationship with the world around and the environment, and the world will be renewed – not ‘Heaven on Earth,’ but a New Earth on Earth.
This new Earth will be populated by people who faith me: black and white, Jew and Gentile, slave and free, male and female, gay and straight, (did I omit any categorical pairs?) – one Lord, one faith, one baptism – one family, the Family of God.” 

“You will see it then, and it will be beyond wonder, beyond anything you expected, even beyond anything you suspected. You can believe that, rely on it, take it to the bank. I’ve been there, I’ve seen it already, and it is finished.” 

“But, Lord,” I said, “That’s then, this is now. How do I have that kind of faith in the now?” 

“I know,” He agreed, “that’s then, and this is now. But, don’t get confused by the wording. You should not have faith in the now, that’s the trouble. You try to have faith in the now and it’s not worthy of your faith because it is broken as you are broken. In the now, put your faith in the then, what theologians would call the Not Yet. When you get to the Not Yet, you won’t need faith anymore because the Not Yet will be the reality that you can see. The Not Yet will be the now – then”

“In the now, just faith Me. The Not Yet is a reality already, but for you, it is a faith reality. If you faith Me in the now, I will take you to the Not Yet that will be the new now.” 

“And, that’s only half the story. I didn’t put you in the now to worry about the now or to worry why the now is not the Not Yet. In this reality, it isn’t. Instead, I put you in the now to faith me and to pass on the vision of the Not Yet to the people of the now.” That’s your ‘ongoing mission.”

“The best part of this is that in ‘flying’ in the now, like a bird to your mission, you must faith Me if you’re going to succeed. In faithing Me, you also get to know the real Me, not the cardboard, cutout, standup of me you might find in a Japanese baseball stadium, but the real Who I Am.”

Exasperated, I lamented, “OK, now I’m temporally lost.”

“No,” He reassured me, “you’re not ‘lost’ in the now, you’re actually ‘found’ in the now as well as in the Not Yet. Theologians would call that ‘saved.’ Your problem is that you haven’t moved past ‘saved’ in the now. You have faithed me for the Not Yet but not for the now. It’s the same faith, only different operations of it. I want you to know the ‘both’ of it now so you can know Me in the now as well as in the Not Yet.”

Still confused, I offered, “Could you make this explanation any harder?” 

“Sure,” He responded, “I could write it in Greek. In fact, I already did.” 

“OK, I surrender, press on,” feebly I replied. 

“Good job,” He reassured and resumed, “Surrender – give up. As I was saying, the bird faiths that he can fly in the now. In response to that faith, he flies. He doesn’t think about flying; he doesn’t play ‘what if I can fly?’ He goes about his business. You see, flying is not the main thing for a bird. Sure, it’s great that I made him to fly. But I made him to fly so that he could accomplish what I designed him to do. In doing what I designed Him to do, the bird is fulfilled – not in flying, but in doing what flying enabled him to do.” 

“So it is with faith. It’s pretty simple. My plan for you is that you live your life as a Christian in the now, that you faith me in the now, that you do what I have for you to do in the now, and that you don’t worry about the rest of the stuff like the not yet. If I made it so a bird can fly and fulfill my purpose for him. How much more have I made you so that you can likewise “fly” in the now and accomplish my purpose for you in the now and the Not Yet? It’s a ‘no brainer.” 

(Good thing that this thought was a “no brainer,” because, in the now, my brain was not yet.)

So let it be written, so let it be done. 

Three Hebrew words describe my experience of the weekend. I invite you scholars and counselors to respond with your “two cents” worth on my Hebrew, my actions, and my guilt feelings. You get a free shot at me. Don’t pass it up. A caveat, however, remember Our Lord’s challenge about “casting the first stone.”

“Chen” captures the Ancient Hebrew concept of “grace,” God’s unmerited favor usually expressed, I believe, in an action. “Chesed” is God’s “loving-kindness.” I would have thought that “Chesed” is not necessarily expressed in action; however, some scholars disagree.

If the scholars be correct and it is I who am wrong (a genuine possibility given my surface – only knowledge of Hebrew) may I suggest that “Chesed” manifests itself in “Chen.” I wonder if some combination of these two thoughts approaches the meaning of John Wesley’s concept of “loving grace.” (Wesleyan scholars, feel free to jump in here.)

If that be correct, God’s “loving – grace” is always freely flowing to us such that If the mirrors of our hearts are properly polished, we are continually reflecting this “loving-grace” back to God in a circuit. Concurrently, if our hearts are right, we are continually reflecting God’s “loving – grace” towards our fellow humans, especially to the orphan, the widow, the “stranger,” the oppressed, or to those otherwise in need.

May I suggest that our reflection towards people brings God’s blessing to us in the form of “loving – grace,” and the cycle repeats, perhaps with higher intensity. Enter “Sathám.”

“Sathám” is a Hebrew verb connoting the act of stopping – up as in clogging up a pipe or turning off a valve. In 2 Chronicles 32, King Hezekiah stopped up (a form of the word, “Sathám”) the flow of the city’s water supply to prevent invaders from entering through the tunnel.

A couple of weeks ago, I reprinted one of my poems detailing a vision God gave me in India in which He showed me His love flowing through space, into me, and on into a man for whom I was praying. In that vision, my purpose was merely that of a piece of PVC pipe, being the conduit of God’s love to the man.

Late this week, upon considering the entering of my “Mind-Palace,” as Sherlock Holmes would say, for the purpose of a time of prayer, God brought two blessings and a challenge to me.

I needed some yard work done, and a friend of mine recommended that I call a Mexican man to help. I called “Juan” the day before, and he came as I was approaching prayer. I was glad to recess and work with “Juan” to determine what work needed doing and how much it would cost. “Juan’s” English was only slightly better than my Spanish, but God had allowed me to learn and to speak Spanish in my tutoring and other work with Latinos.

We struck a deal. That, in and of itself, was a blessing in that I had been previously unsuccessful in securing a contractor for the small job. An added blessing was the fact that “Juan” brought his 6th – grade son with Him. I immediately felt an opportunity to get to know “Juan” and his son so that I might sometimes be able to present the Gospel to them. The thought of presenting the Gospel to a workman at my house was a gift from Ray Willis, a friend of mine from Montana who regularly does such things with great success for the Lord. As I think about it, Ray’s gift to me is another blessing about which I had not considered until this writing.

After “Juan” and I agreed upon the work, we discussed the young man’s school. In Montgomery, the school system is going all – online, and they are providing a laptop for every student (so they claim.) “Juan’s” problem was that he had no internet. That concerned me, so remembering how the Mixteco Church in Montgomery overcame this problem, I did a little checking around and discovered that “Juan” could add a “MIFI” or Hotspot to his existing cell account for a relatively small amount a month. I so informed “Juan” in a subsequent call. Where this leads remains to be seen, but I believe that God is in this nascent relationship, and I’m looking forward to pressing on with it.

Secondly, a man in my church called me. He, along with his wife, are among a group of senior citizens whom I call and write regularly to keep touch with the Church. He called to report an incident in his family for which I felt the immediate need to pray. I asked him if that was OK, and he agreed. God blessed me in that this man would honor me with such a call. God also blessed me with the ability to pray for him.

Oh, did I mention “Sathám?” This part of the story is not so good. I was going outside to begin this writing when I noticed my next-door neighbors moving in a large piece of furniture. My first thought was to go over and offer to help – but I didn’t.

I didn’t go over strictly because I didn’t want to. It’s not that I was concerned about the heavy lifting or about the exposure to several people from several families, all of whom could be vectors of COVID – 19, which I would then carry home to my wife, thus running the risk of killing both of us. It was not because, in sizing up the situation, it plainly appeared that they had enough healthy males to do the job without my interference.

No. I just don’t like these people. They are not of a different race or ethnicity. They are not of a different “class” than I. They seem to be of the same economic group as I. No, they are “religious.” I can tell by their hair and the women’s dress. Honestly, that puts me off, so I tucked my tail between my legs and slinked back into the house to sit on the kitchen floor.

Do I hear a “clucking” sound? If so, is it the sound the Pharisees made passing by the Cross of Christ? Maybe, it’s the sound in your “Mind – Palace” by some of you guys who are disappointed in me? Perhaps, it’s the sound of a chicken. Whatever. As Will Smith says while walking through the Bonneville Salt Flat dragging the alien in Independence Day, “It’s all good.”

Except that it isn’t all good. Now, I feel guilty, obviously guilty enough to write about it, guilty enough even to find a Hebrew word for my actions. “Sathám.”

Have I stopped up the flow of God’s “loving grace,” His “Chesed – Chen?” (A phrase I just made up to sound erudite.)

“Upon further review,” I submit that God’s Grace is bigger than my sin. His Grace is ever – flowing.” I may (or may not) have blown it this time, but here and now, I acknowledge my error in His presence and in yours.’ May God forgive me – may God forgive us all.

So let it be written, so let it be done.

Do you ever lose focus? Do you ever get lost in the weeds? Do you ever watch the new shiny object while you are missing everything else around you? I do – frequently. Last week was one of those “frequently” times. We had just returned from the first visit with our Mississippi family since early March. I had gotten out of my daily Bible readings and prayer. You know the drill.

When I finally sat down on the tailgate of the truck to pray, I just said, “Lord, I’ve lost my way. I need Your help. You see, I’ve watched too much news and am obsessed with politics and the pandemic.” “Politics” and “Pandemic,” now, there’s a bad combination from any point of view.

Before long, my mind was drawn to a traditional immigrant folk song, “When I First Came to this Land,” and I wondered why? See https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DWPKw1wtkhc The first verse reads,

When I first came to this land, I was not a wealthy man, but I got myself a shack, and I did what I could. And I called that shack ‘break my back.’ But the land was rich and good and I did what I could.

It’s simple, basic, and it harkens back to the time – an admittedly hard time – when the protagonist’s focus was on the “Main Thing,” a shack, a cow, a wife – a son. I wondered if that sort of simplicity was possible today. Then, God led me to a scripture, Philippians 4:4-8. NIV.

Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. [And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. 

Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.

Shortly after my reading and praying a bit, my messages “dinged.” It was pastor Ben McDavid with a video devotional on Isaiah Chapter 6. As you will remember, in Chapter 6, the prophet, Isaiah sees the throne room of God and is overawed. Pastor Ben’s devotional was concise but meaningful and uplifting. It was simple and to the point. Isaiah sees God and in the words of the hymn, “the things of earth grow strangely dim.” See: https://www.facebook.com/fumcmontgomery/videos/2974275866032693

“That’s it,” God said. “Just focus on Me, and all this other stuff will be as grass that withers and dies. I AM the ‘Main Thing.” To highlight His point, God reminded me of an experience that He gave me about a decade ago.

On a mission trip to Northern India in 2010 or 2011, a small team of volunteer missionaries, a member of which I was privileged to be, were ministering in a refugee camp for Tibetans fleeing the Chinese Communists.

In the city where we were staying, Raj Pur, there was in that camp, the home of a refugee from just over the northern border in Tibet. As we were ministering in that home, there were 30-40 Tibetans packed into the living room. They were sitting and standing on top of each other. That is, except for a man lying on a cot. He appeared to be ill. 

As the pastor with us read the Bible and led a short devotion, my attention was continually drawn to the man on the cot. When the pastor concluded, as we were about to leave, I asked the local interpreter, a local indigenous pastor if I might pray for the sick man. The pastor agreed and told me that the sick man had sores all over his back. 

Having no clue as to what the illness was, I nevertheless, laid my left hand on the man’s back, raised my right hand to Heaven, and began to pray for the man’s healing. During my prayer, God sent me a vision or a thought, or an impression – however, you want to define it – visually showing me what was taking place in the spiritual realm.

In my spirit, I could see God seated on his “throne,” a huge ruby-colored cushion with golden fringe. His legs crossed under Him in what I supposed was a “lotus pose” – for those of you, like me, who practice yoga. On a cushion to His right and left, were two “beings” that I was impressed to believe were the Son on His right and the Holy Spirit on His left. The three were dressed in traditional Indian garb that would have been worn during the period of the Maharajas. God, the Father, wore a large turban. Their throne room was more beautiful than I could imagine at the time. 

As I continued to pray, I was completely caught up in the vision to the point that I was unaware that I was speaking. I saw as it were, a crimson-red stream began to issue forth from the Father’s throne, flowing through the blackness of space in a tight, rope-like fashion, winding its way through the myriad of galaxies.

The flow streamed, crimson – red, until it poured through the roof, the ceiling, into the room, and onto the floor. I saw and felt it enter my body. The healing stream passed through me, out my left hand, and into the sick man. I could see its aura around the man.

After a time, I knew the process was over. After my “AMEN,” I opened my physical eyes and saw all the people in the room trying to form a line toward me for me to pray for each. There were so many people that we, the team of minister volunteers, divided them up and each of us prayed for a portion individually until we had prayed for all. They spoke no English, and we spoke neither Tibetan nor Hindi, but God figured it all out – I suppose.

After the prayers, the people thanked us profusely, so our interpreter said. As we had prayed for over two hours, we had to alter our schedule and take a chai break to discuss what we had just experienced. None of us had such a remarkable experience before. 

Sometime after we returned to the States, I thought of a poem that I had started in 1978 shortly after our daughter, Amy was born. In 1978, the subject of the poem was Amy, set as an Indian princess. However, I could never finish it, nor even progress past the first verse. In 2011, God repurposed the poem to show me not my daughter, but the “Main Thing” – Himself. As finally completed, the poem is a representation of what I saw, felt, and experienced that day in that Tibetan refugee village in Northern India.

I suspect that this vision was not unlike the experience that Isaiah had and recorded in Isaiah Chapter 6. Perhaps Isaiah saw God as Isaiah would have expected to see a great King. That, too, was what I saw, except that the location was Northern India instead of Judah, and the time was – well, who knows. 

I offer you this vision of what Isaiah and I saw.

The Purwat[1] of Rajpur[2]

By John R. Wible. Begun in 1978,[3] completed in September-October, 2011

In Rajpur, the Purwat with majesty did sit, Exalted high upon the Ruby throne,

Whose dais filled the great Hall there, at least the most of it, With each and every kind of precious stone.

Beside the Purwat there stood the Khybear[4] to left, And to the right, the Ivory Dumar,[5]

Who opened mighty floodgates wide, From whence proceeded hence, The River of the Purwat’s great pow’r.

The pow’r to make and make again, At His majestic call,

And echo same from One to One, Gush forth like liquid Ruby from the Hall.

The pow’r to make and make again, How can this thing be so?

How can such might be latent lie, Within the Ruby flow?

And who is touched by the liquid flame, To be changed to flesh from stone?

“Oh, is it I,” one dares to ask, “Who can such glory own?”

The question shocks the spirit man, And to the soul gives pause,

“Nay, who am I to ask of such, And based upon what cause?”

At once, the Khybear dains to speak, Give voice His trifurcated tongue,

The sound of such I cannot bear, Nor with the Three be among.

And even though the Khybear, He, His face and feet I hear,

Felled on my face I find myself, A ‘quivering with fear.

Gives back the shout, the Dumar does, And three times louder than before,

“Pow’r of pow’r and might of might,” Echoes from wall to crown to floor.

“It is done,” the speaker speaks. “The River’s flow ne’er stopped,”

And washed me o’er from face to toe, Until my body sopped.

“Woe is me, I am undone, A man of hollow lip,

That ope’ of aweful ocean tide, Until the Ruby sip.”

The taste of curried gall, it is, More bitter than be borne,

Hollowed by the years of me, Until my teeth, they’ve torn.

O’er once and twice and thrice again, The taste each crevice fills,

And all the vacuum vanishes, ’til soon my soul it thrills.

“Oh, strange and unfamiliar taste, This chutney of the soul,

Can You my weakness wash away? And make, remake me whole?”

“It can, It can,” the Purwat, Proclaimed, now drink it all.

Oh, take it in, its savor seek, Salvation mixed with gall.”

And then I realized my lips, Well full with new-found floods,

Which sprang from them each time I spoke? The Royal Ruby Blood.

“Now, make and make and make again,” I hear the Khybear bleat,

“And give to all, do all I say.” And then He took His seat.

But yet the Dumar grew in form, E’en larger than before.

And with each iteration’s growth, Less visible each pore.

And in a wild and winsome way, I wot that He the Ruby had become,

That filled my lips; He bade me speak, ‘til the Purwat be known. 

The sky rolled in and covered up,  The vision I had seen,

The Purwat, upon His throne The Khybear had entered in.

And became as e’er before, With Purwat be one

The Dumar, too, in some strange way, The threefold person now done.

And so, i’twas, and so shalt be, As from the time before.

The Purwat exalted high, Above this human floor.

And I am filled to overflow, On Ruby-hu-ed sips,

And nevermore will speak to man, With hollow, haughty lips.

*   *  *

So let it be written, so let it be done.

---

[1] Purwat (pronounced Poor-a-what), is a combination word of my own making. The word, given to me in the vision, is a combination of two ancient words from two ancient languages, Hindi and Khmer. In the Rig Veda, the ancient Hindu writings, “pur” is referred to more than 30 times and means “city, castle or fortress.” “Wat” is from the ancient Khmer language of Cambodia and means “temple.” In ancient times before Christ, in fact, before recorded history, peoples of Indian descent inhabited modern Cambodia such that it was known by British and French scholars as “Farther India.” “Purwat” then, is the title that was given to me for Jehovah God, the triune “Temple City” by extension, and the City that is a holy temple.

[2] Rajpur, a small town in Uttarakhan State in Northern India, is an ancient princely state on the banks of the River Mahisagar in Western India. It is perhaps in this reference that I first heard the name some 33 years ago. The term, “Raj” means “might” or “power” in Hindi, thus Rajpur would mean the City of Power.

[3] I began this poem in 1978 shortly after Amy was born. I was could never get past the first verse, and I wondered why. It is now clear that God began a vision for me in 1978 but did not complete the vision for some 33 years. The poem is the verbalization of a vision I received in Northern India during a prayer session in a Tibetan refugee village. Upon reflection, it is basically the same vision that the prophet, Isaiah saw and recorded in Isaiah 6, q.v. In the vision, I saw the Triune God in Heaven dressed in 17^th Century Indian garb. God the Father was seated on a huge Ruby coloured pillow in a full lotus position. To His right and left were God the Son (Khybear) and God the Holy Spirit (Dumar.) From the throne emanated a ruby coloured river that descended from Heaven to the room in which I stood praying over a man who had abscesses on his back. The ruby flow covered the floor and came to my feet. Then it came through my body and exited out my hand which was on the sick man. The flow was God’s healing power. It was a double gift. A gift of healing to the man and a gift of God’s permitting me to be the instrumentality of that healing.

[4] Khybear (pronounced Khyber,) is a contrived word using the Khyber region of India to the Northwest of Rajpur (the right) and Bear for “Chi Bear,” Amy’s first stuffed animal.

[5] Dumar (Dumar Kachar in Madhya Pradesh, to the Southeast of Rajpur,) is the second place name used. (Left.) Dumar was Amy’s second animal. Dumar is also one of the “scheduled casts” of Madhya Pradesh.

Written in 1860, Englishman William Whiting’s “Eternal Father, Strong to Save,” known in the United States as the “Navy Hymn,” and in Great Britain and many Commonwealth nations, the “Royal Navy Hymn,” ranks high on my “Top Ten List” of favorites.  The melancholy, prayerful, and somber yet chilling nature of the lyrics, matches the close harmonies of the tune, John B. Dyke’s “Melita.” 

Together, they capture both the vast and dark expanse of the deep sea and the cavernous plaintiff cries of the mourners lamenting the condition of lost shipmates who now sleep beneath the depths. The piece is rightly performed at naval funerals in many countries. 

Funerals. The proper time for lament. Perhaps, in our society, the only appropriate time for lament, or so suggests Glenn Pemberton in Hurting with God: Learning to Lament with the Psalms. Maybe, he’s right, at least for most people. But, “lament” does not equate with complaint or depression. Lament, according to Professor Pemberton, is a God-given form of deeply felt prayer. It gives expression to honesty – and ultimately, to release.

In a previous post, “The ‘Wright’ Guidance,” I exposed the reader to the ideas of Bishop N. T. Wright, writing in God and the Pandemic: A Christian Reflection on the Coronavirus and its Aftermath, Zondervan, 2020.  Bishop Wright suggests that the world’s current state of affairs calls for a time of lament, lament as we find in about 40% of the Psalms.  

I’ve been trying that, but I have discovered that I do not lament well. It seems that it’s just not in my nature or training. It is my preference to always search for the bright side and to disdain much moping about. 

As I retraced the course of that discovery, an image came to my mind’s eye and a song in my mind’s ear – The Navy Hymn, Eternal Father, Strong to Save. May I suggest that you listen to the following track as you read below.. https://youtu.be/h7nswbxC2jo

Through the soulish glass of that organ of inner vision, plain as day, I beheld a faceless figure swimming silently and effortlessly upon the surface of a cerulean sea. 

And, lo, in the background, yet a ways off in the distance, the cobalt-coloured shape of a ship, broke in half, slowly and quietly sank. 

O, the swimming figure could not see the ship because he swam away from it, away from the sun that, in its accustomed course, streaked forth the first rays of eventide, backlighting the broken boat in its crimson-hued decline.

Quietly, barely perceptible, the sun was setting. Quieter, barely visible, the ship was sinking. Quieter still, the foreground figure was floating. 

“But, was it truly that quiet?” I mused as it seemed that in my mind’s ear, I could hear the mellifluous melody of the Navy Hymn.

Eternal Father, strong to save, Whose arm doth bind the restless wave, Who bids the mighty ocean deep Its own appointed limits keep; O hear us when we cry to Thee, For those in peril on the sea. – William Whiting. 

Obliviously, the swimming figure heard not the tender tones – because, in his head, he was humming a happy song. Nay, the figure heard not the creaking of the midships’ breaking upon the horizon, nor heard yet the burgeoning “boom” of her blowing boilers.

And, incomprehensibly, he apprehended not the last breath’s expiration from the sailors recently billeted aboard but now consigned to an ocean’s gloomy grave. 

Insensible, the form regarded not the deaf, dumb, and blind thrashing about of the lost loved ones ‘neath the star-spangled shape so far astern. 

Nay comprehended he not yet the subsurface stream of shipmen carelessly carried by the irresistible current from the craft to himward. 

And, ultimately, perceived he not that sea of souls ‘neath his very own graceful glide – bent, bowed, broken – lying lifeless, levitating, merely meters below the character’s crawl. 

Say, “How?” if you will. Say, “How?” if you can. Know not he of the sailors sinking fathoms below. 

Tell me, “What doth he think, if think he doth do?” Doth he not ken, no eyebrow raise?”

“Carest he not that they perish, perish upon his watch?” 

***

What’s that, you say? Whisper again. Nay, keep it not hid’ for others must hear. “That ship was not his – and neither her crew – nor was this his time.” 

Out of mind’s eye, away from mind’s ear. Cntrl+alt+delete. Whoosh! Vanished. Be ye gone. 

‘Tis a sad tale, but truthful, too often it seems. That we so merrily float o’er the misery of the world. If that is not my world if these are not my people. If this is not my time. But, sadder to say that this very hour, that is myworld, these are my people, and this is my time. 

Grieve then, lament, though that’s not your gift. Grab hold and ne’er let go. I be the person, that is the place, and this is the time for plights to be known, to be felt, to be heard, to be grasped, to be lamented. 

“Others, Lord, yes others, let this my motto be.” Down on the knee, bend it for sure. Shed a tear, two, or three. Gush forth, O heart, nor aught hold back.  The time is now, the place is here – the person is me.

“How long, O, Lord, how long?” Perhaps, He will reply. 

So let it be written, so let it be done.

Written in 1860, Englishman William Whiting’s “Eternal Father, Strong to Save,” known in the United States as the “Navy Hymn,” and in Great Britain and many Commonwealth nations, the “Royal Navy Hymn,” ranks high on my “Top Ten List” of favorites.  The melancholy, prayerful, and somber yet chilling nature of the lyrics, matches the close harmonies of the tune, John B. Dyke’s “Melita.”  Together, they capture both the vast and dark expanse of the deep sea and the cavernous plaintiff cries of the mourners lamenting the condition of lost shipmates who now sleep beneath the depths. The piece is rightly performed at naval funerals in many countries. 

Funerals. The proper time for lament. Perhaps, in our society, the only appropriate time for lament, or so suggests Glenn Pemberton in Hurting with God: Learning to Lament with the Psalms. Maybe, he’s right, at least for most people. But, “lament” does not equate with complaint or depression. Lament, according to Professor Pemberton, is a God-given form of deeply felt prayer. It gives expression to honesty – and ultimately, to release.

In a previous post, “The ‘Wright’ Guidance,” I exposed the reader to the ideas of Bishop N. T. Wright, writing in God and the Pandemic: A Christian Reflection on the Coronavirus and its Aftermath, Zondervan, 2020.  Bishop Wright suggests that the world’s current state of affairs calls for a time of lament, lament as we find in about 40% of the Psalms.  

I’ve been trying that, but I have discovered that I do not lament well. It seems that it’s just not in my nature or training. It is my preference to always search for the bright side and to disdain much moping about. As I retraced the course of that discovery, an image came to my mind’s eye and a song in my mind’s ear – The Navy Hymn, Eternal Father, Strong to Save. May I suggest that you listen to the following track as you read below.. https://youtu.be/h7nswbxC2jo

Through the soulish glass of that organ of inner vision, plain as day, I beheld a faceless figure swimming silently and effortlessly upon the surface of a cerulean sea. 

And, lo, in the background, yet a ways off in the distance, the cobalt-coloured shape of a ship, broke in half, slowly and quietly sank. 

O, the swimming figure could not see the ship because he swam away from it, away from the sun that, in its accustomed course, streaked forth the first rays of eventide, backlighting the broken boat in its crimson-hued decline.

Quietly, barely perceptible, the sun was setting. Quieter, barely visible, the ship was sinking. Quieter still, the foreground figure was floating. 

“But, was it truly that quiet?” I mused as it seemed that in my mind’s ear, I could hear the mellifluous melody of the Navy Hymn.

Eternal Father, strong to save,

Whose arm doth bind the restless wave,

Who bids the mighty ocean deep

Its own appointed limits keep;

O hear us when we cry to Thee

For those in peril on the sea. – William Whiting. 

Obliviously, the swimming figure heard not the tender tones – because, in his head, he was humming a happy song. Nay, the figure heard not the creaking of the midships’ breaking upon the horizon, nor heard yet the burgeoning “boom” of her blowing boilers.

And, incomprehensibly, he apprehended not the last breath’s expiration from the sailors recently billeted aboard but now consigned to an ocean’s gloomy grave. 

Insensible, the form regarded not the deaf, dumb, and blind thrashing about of the lost loved ones ‘neath the star-spangled shape so far astern. 

Nay comprehended he not yet the subsurface stream of shipmen carelessly carried by the irresistible current from the craft to himward. 

And, ultimately, perceived he not that sea of souls ‘neath his very own graceful glide – bent, bowed, broken – lying lifeless, levitating, merely meters below the character’s crawl. 

Say, “How?” if you will. Say, “How?” if you can. Know not he of the sailors sinking fathoms below. 

Tell me, “What doth he think, if think he doth do?” Doth he not ken, no eyebrow raise?”

“Carest he not that they perish, perish upon his watch?” 

***

What’s that, you say? Whisper again. Nay, keep it not hid’ for others must hear. “That ship was not his – and neither her crew – nor was this his time.” +

Out of mind’s eye, away from mind’s ear. Cntrl+alt+delete. Whoosh! Vanished. Be ye gone. 

‘Tia a sad tale, but truthful, too often it seems. That we so merrily float o’er the misery of the world. If that is not my world if these are not my people. If this is not my time. But, sadder to say that this very hour, that is myworld, these are my people, and this is my time. 

Grieve then, lament, though that’s not your gift. Grab hold and ne’er let go. I be the person, that is the place, and this is the time for plights to be known, to be felt, to be heard, to be grasped, to be lamented. 

“Others, Lord, yes others, let this my motto be.” Down on the knee, bend it for sure. Shed a tear, two, or three. Gush forth, O heart, nor aught hold back.  The time is now, the place is here – the person is me.

“How long, O, Lord, how long?” Perhaps, He will reply. So let it be written, so let it be done.

In his new book, God and the Pandemic,[1] Anglican Professor Emeritus, The Rt. Reverend N. T. Wright, gives us some reassuring guidance in the present pandemic. I concur with Bishop Wright, and I submit that we can apply this guidance to the other two prongs of the fork upon which we, our nation, and the world are currently being skewered: cultural upheaval and economic collapse. I submit Bishop Wright’s paraphrased, edited, and truncated guidance for your consideration.[2]

One should interpret the entire Bible through the lens of Jesus. Old Testament prophesies about repentance and national judgment are all “subsumed” in Jesus.[3] Of course, “God is God” and as such, nothing can limit how He chooses to work. But, as a general rule, there can be no new call to repentance, judgment, or salvation other than the life, ministry, death, resurrection, and ascension of Jesus as written in the Bible and proclaimed by the Church. He is the last and greatest sign. There have always been wars, plagues, famines, and the like as well as all manner of evil done by people directly or indirectly since the earliest recorded history. The Bible tells us, and history corroborates, that these events will occur again and again.

Thus, it should not be said that the current distress is a new call from God for us “get right with God” or is a new, though well-deserved, indictment of national sin. Neither is it an indication that the end is near. Jesus, Himself, was the last and final Word on those subjects.

Since eternity past, God is still sovereign over the cosmos, but He expresses that sovereignty differently in the Church Age (New Testament times,) up to and including the present. The finished work of Jesus makes this so.

God now expresses His sovereignty through His church. He has delegated to the church the privilege of cooperating with Him in bringing His Kingdom to come to people. With that privilege comes the responsibility of the Church and the people of the Church, as the Nike® advertisement admonishes to just do it!

The church is called to unite, to pray, to serve, and to lead by word and by example. In times of gladness, we pray prayers of rejoicing, and we rejoice with people over God’s goodness. However, in hard times like these, we are called to express prayers of lament as did the Psalmist. Only in lament for the misery that we and particularly for that of others, can we truly know their pain and honestly grieve with them as Jesus did over the death of Lazarus and the impending fall of Jerusalem.

In our lament, we ask not “why” for, “Who can know the mind of God?” It is folly and presumption to try to figure out why God does what He does. Rather, in our lament, we ask “what,” “how,” and “who?”

During these times, we lament. The Psalms are full of lament. Perhaps, they were written for “such a time as this.” Esther 4:4. Let us find those Psalms of lament and pray them back to God. Psalm 34 is a good place to start. Let us ask Him to allow us to experience the suffering of the people He loves. Only in that way can we love as God loves. We must be prepared to give Him the sacrifice of our own lament, pain, and love.

Some count about fifty Psalms of or that contain, lament. Included among these are Psalms of personal lament. Examples: Psalms 3-5, 9-10, 13-14, 22, 25, 39, 41 42-43, 54-57, 69-71, 77, 86, 88, and 140-142. Examples of communal lament include: Psalms 12, 44, 58, 60, 74, 79, 80, 83, and 85.

After the time of lament, we turn our prayer to the questions of “what,” “how,” and “to whom.”

1. What does God want the church and me, personally, to do about what is taking place?
2. How can I join in with God to bring His kingdom to hurting people? And,
3. Who are the people to whom God is calling the church, and me, personally, to minister?

Waiting comes next. Waiting, in this context, is active rather than passive. We wait for God’s answer, searching the scripture, searching in the things that are taking place around us, and searching for what other congregations are doing to minister.

After the praying, we come to the doing. We must “boldly go,” in the words of Star Trek. God will guide. God will provide, and God will protect. That is not to say that we may not lose our health or our very lives in this work. The pages of church history are full of the names of martyrs who gave their lives in wars, violence, and plagues. Having said that, J. Vernon McGee has said,” all of God’s men [and women] are immortal until God is through with them.” This is not to say that God may not have had other ideas of when He was “through with us” than what we might have thought.

Lastly, we should go out into the world “wise as serpents but innocent as doves.” Matthew 10:16. God did not call us to act foolishly or to take unwarranted risks. Each one of us is at a separate place of risk. Neither should we place others at risk by our presumed “heroism.” It might be said that “God don’t need no more cowboys.” We have a duty to love those others whom we serve and those to whom we come home at the end of the day. Part of the expression of that love is to carefully consider the risk that might ride with us. In this particular case, as good citizens, we must obey civil and Church authorities in their guidance as to our behavior unless such guidance clearly runs counter to the whole of scripture.

I pray that the words of Bishop Wright, and some of mine, help bring some understanding and comfort to you in these tough times.

[1] Wright, N. T, God and the Pandemic: A Christian Reflection on the Coronavirus and Its Aftermath. Zondervan, 2020. For a fuller understanding, please read the entire book. For balance, I submit another excellent, if in some regards, contrary, work, The Reverend Doctor John S. Piper, Coronavirus and Christ. Crossway, 2020. The latter book was brought to my attention by my friend, The Reverend C.J. Falcione.

[2] As I read over this work, it seems that I hear the voices of The Reverend Alan Cross and the Reverend Doctor Henry Blackaby, my “go to sources” for quotes and inspiration.

[3] I use the word, “subsumed” to avoid any misunderstanding that either Bishop Wright or I are opining on the “supersession” controversy.