Spring

It is Spring!

The daffodils are pushing up. And the grass is green, GREEN, GREEN! After all, this is Oregon.

There is something vibrant about a sunny spring day in the Willamette Valley.

My middle schoolers are off for Spring Break. They will return with the changes this season brings to the hearts, minds, and bodies of adolescents. The sixth graders will return as full-fledged middle schoolers. The 7th and 8th graders will return with even greater spunk and vinegar.

Watching them is like watching a nature film on public broadcasting. We call them kids because they act like mountain goats, springing about, shouting, alive.

Perhaps that is why it is called Spring. It puts a spring in our step. It makes kids spring from place to place, game to game. It feels like we have tapped into a spring of refreshing cool water.

Though my mind keeps turning to my upcoming 50th birthday I am feeling very young, in a lot of ways. Today something occurred to me.

I am in the Spring of my life.

There is a joy in my heart that makes it race, a clarity to my thoughts that makes reading and writing and listening to music feel pregnant with a coming spiritual epiphany.

I am immortal. I will never truly die. I will dance throughout time, I will sing throughout eternity. I will praise and shout and weep with joy beneath my benefactor’s smiling gaze.

I am brand new. I will live forever, and the whole of this life, this mortal life, is just the birthing of who I really am.

I’ve been on a U2 binge of late... today I want to share a song with you.

"Yahweh"

It starts out with a simple prayer, a plea for the Lord of all things to take us, just as we are, with our dead end lives headed nowhere, our ordinary clothes, our ordinary bodies, and wash us.

Take these shoes
Click clacking down some dead end street
Take these shoes
And make them fit
Take this shirt
Polyester white trash made in nowhere
Take this shirt
And make it clean, clean
Take this soul
Stranded in some skin and bones
Take this soul
And make it sing

I have known sorrow. I have held my dead child... three times. I have felt the ache of unreturned love. I have felt the fear of bankruptcy. And I have had a doctor tell me I have only months to live. I’ve felt shame and guilt and horror. These are the awful realities of living in a fallen world. These aren't emotions of God's but of the pain we have brought with us into this world... pain we need to feel before we can drop our own self-centeredness and embrace Him.

Yahweh, Yahweh
Always pain before a child is born
Yahweh, Yahweh
Still I'm waiting for the dawn

I have felt the joy of relinquishing who I am, what I want, what my desires are, and sought to make myself obedient.

Take these hands
Teach them what to carry
Take these hands
Don't make a fist
Take this mouth
So quick to criticize
Take this mouth
Give it a kiss

(Please Lord, make me better able to serve You. Less of me. More of You.)

Yahweh, Yahweh
Always pain before a child is born
Yahweh, Yahweh
Still I'm waiting for the dawn

Oh what a fearful thing! My heart quickens... someday... I will breathe my last breath, and the true dawn will come. I will see the Sonrise.

Still waiting for the dawn, the sun is coming up
The sun is coming up on the ocean
This love is like a drop in the ocean
This love is like a drop in the ocean

All that I am... the best of who I am... my greatest passions, my deepest love, is the faintest hint of the vastness of love I know is real... I feel that ocean lapping on the edge of who I am, on the shores of my soul, and I know that as strong as my love feels, though it makes me tremble, I am only sensing the true love that brings all things together... the subatomic strings dancing in patterns of three, making up quarks, making up atoms, making up molecules, making up cells, making up this body, are dancing a song of love, binding it all together. Science is stretching, trying to pull the laws of physics into a single whole... the strong atomic, the weak atomic, the electromagnetic, the force of gravity, attempting to describe You (my master).

-Yahweh-

There is an eternal spring bringing the freshest water to my greatest thirst.

And make Your city, the city, shine again. Rebuild it. Both the city of Your kingdom, and the city where I live.

Yahweh, Yahweh
Always pain before a child is born
Yahweh, tell me now
Why the dark before the dawn?
Take this city
A city should be shining on a hill
Take this city If it be your will
What no man can own, no man can take
Take this heart
Take this heart
Take this heart
And make it break

-------------------------------------

Oh heavenly Father! Oh my master! I am so weak. I know I do not deserve to even utter this magnificent word, this holy name. Forgive me Lord for my pride.

Please accept my trembling offering. Lord, I lay it all before You. I give you my money. Take my checkbook, take my wallet. It is Yours.

Take my love... my love for my wife, my love for my children, my love for my church. It is Yours. Heavenly Lord.

Take my sadness. Take my grief. Take my anxieties and cares and happiness and amusement and bewilderment and make it Yours.

Take my education, take my skills. Take my talents, and my knowledge, my curiosity and thoughts, my strengths and my frailties, use them in any way You please. They are Yours.

Today I am young. A man. A mere moth. I am in the Spring of my existence. I know I will dance beyond the life of the universe and You will sustain me. Let me be Your servant Lord. Bid me and I will obey.

Amen.

The Lord's Prayer

In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth.
--Genesis 1:1

The first thing the Word says about God is that He is the Creator. He created all things. He is the embodiment of creativity.

Creativity is central to human beings. Not surprising; we are made in His image. We are tool makers. We are artisans, craftsmen, builders, makers, shapers. We create tools to change our lives, to change our environment. The greatest thrill of our lives is in creating, bringing forth children. We thrill to the creation of new things... in our lives, marriages, pregnancies... building homes, starting businesses, creating art.

There is something about making things that lifts us up. There is something positive, something right about the creative process. I think that is even truer when we do things for Him.

This Friday the Prayer Room in our church is getting repainted; we do it every year just before Easter. I am very excited. The old prayers are covered over, the walls are fresh again for another year of praises, pleas, and expression.

On one of the walls in that room is The Lord’s Prayer. This year I’m redoing it on a sheet of 5’ X 5’ birch plywood. It is one of the largest non-mural art pieces I have ever done. I’ve primed the wood and sketched out the painting.

There is something about painting that isn’t easy to describe, to explain. I pray while I draw, while I paint; the words mix with the decisions I make, whether this line goes here or over there, whether this is yellowish white or bluish white, and is that orange, or red, or brown? I feel close to Him when I am doing something like this. The words I am praying influence what I draw, what I paint.

I sketched some of the elements on paper first. I used charcoal from the burnt church to transfer the images onto the painting.

The best part is the prayer itself: The Lord’s Prayer. There is no better prayer. It covers all the elements. It recognizes the supremacy of God; it reminds us of His glory, power, and control of all things. It asks for forgiveness, and for sustenance. It recognizes our earthly existence and our eternal one. It is glorious.

Let me share what I have sketched out:

Our Father

Our master, our Lord, our provider, our creator...

These words are centered, at the top, 12:00, with the Hebrew letters for Yahweh glowing above.

Who art in Heaven...

He is above all things, seeing all things, knowing all things, in control...

These thin letters, glowing in pale yellow, will float over a spacescape, Jupiter, Saturn, a two-tailed comet, and stars. The letters settle among stars, looking a little like stars themselves. The Lord is everywhere, even beyond the limits of our own experience.

Hallowed be Thy name...

This line ends at the 3:00 position, where the night sky transitions into dawn, at the shining, rising sun, amid clouds of purple and red. The names of God reaching, flickering toward the center.

Thy Kingdom come, Thy Will be done...

The clouds turn to rolling thunderheads and tall buildings of gold and white stretch out from the clouds through blue sky toward the center.

...on Earth as it is in Heaven.

Lord, make this place Yours. Have Your will here. Start with me. Start with mine. And may we learn to obey You, all of us, from north to south, east to west, super powers to thrid world nations, may we be obedient.

The Earth floats amid clouds (6:00 position) , and the dead center of the globe is Jerusalem.

Give us this Day our Daily Bread...

A broken loaf of bread and a glass of wine, symbolizing the providence we receive every day, as well as the spiritual nourishment of communion.

...and forgive us our sins, as we forgive those who sin against us.

These dark, stark letters of caution float over reddish clouds, reminding us of the seriousness of our failings, an echo of how we frequently fail, and a warning that we need to forgive.

And lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil...

(Some sources say “from the evil one...”) These words float beneath the moon peeking through the darkening clouds at 9:00.

For Thine is the Kingdom, and the Power, and the Glory...

The letters glow over a darkening, sky shifting into stars.

Forever...

The word repeats as it slides around a spinning mobius strip rising from the center. One edge is red shifted, looking backward, the other edge is blue shifted, looking forward, encompassing all of time, all of creation. The strip looks as if it is spinning up from the center, hovering amd galaxies.

Amen.

Amen... the truth, so it is, so we agree... written on a ribbon unscrolling beneath the first words... “Our Father...” so the prayer begins again.

And in the center is the cross, central. It is all about Him. A wooden cross floats an inch and a half above the painting, four spears of light stream out from it. The bottom spike strikes down, tapering to a thin point, resting on Jerusalem.

Along this path toward Earth creted by the cross the dove of the Holy Spirit is descending toward the world.

I will hang this in the Prayer Room and work on it a couple of times a week. When it is done, and when we go to repaint that room in a year, we will move it into the new building our church is going to build.

Oh yes, an update on that: We need to raise $800,000 for that building, designed to serve our community as much as us. Many of us have pledged more than we know how to raise, so this building itself is an act of faith. For example, Brenda and I have pledged about 1/3 more than we know we can budget. He will provide. There will be many amazing testimonies of God’s providence.

So... a new creative project for me... and a new prayer. I can hardly contain myself! Another year to draw, on paper and canvas, and closer to Him.

I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For

I have always been a seeker. I have been intensely curious about all sorts of things all of my life... hence: “Curious Servant”.


When I was four I made little boats out of walnut shells, watched them float through irrigation ditches beneath orange trees in southern California. I wondered why they floated.

As my dad drove us out for frog gigging in rice paddies of northern California I watched the moon. I wondered at how it kept up with us, racing along behind trees and grain silos. Ignoring my dad’s jokes that the moon was following our pickup, I soon figured out without his help that the moon must be very distant and very large to be able to slide along with us in the distance. It was an epiphany reinforced the following year as I walked to my first grade class room, noticing the trunks of trees following along with me beyond the slats of white picket fences.

I was curious and I saw how curiosity taught me things. I kept my eyes open.

I have done all sorts of things... had all sorts of adventures... and I think curiosity was behind it all.

I’ve been scuba diving with sharks, and I’ve walked much of the John Muir Trail. I hitch hiked nearly 30,000 miles one summer in a youthful attempt to rack up miles and adventures.

Searching...

I’ve seen the serpent’s shadow slither down the ancient stone steps of Chichen Itza during the vernal equinox and I’ve wiggled through tight passages of abandoned sliver mines in the desert.

I’ve lived in an ashram, meditating for hours on end...

Always searching...

Once, when I was 18, I took a stack of books to a cave on Saddleback Mountain and read, and read, and read. Nearly three months. I read the Bible, and the Book of Mormon, and the Bhaghavad Gita, and the Upanishads. I read Patangali, and the sayings of Mao Tse Tung. I read the Autobiography of a Yogi and the Gospel of Sri Ramakrishna. There was the Koran, and The Lost Books of Eden, and a book on astral projection. I dove into, through, and emerged from the sayings of Confucius, the poems of Omar Kayim, and the whole silly series of Carlos Castenda. I practically memorized Ewell Gibbon’s Stalking the Wild Asparagus and Be Here Now by Ram Dass. I took along some Richard Brautigan to lighten the mood, and kept Walt Whitman and Emily Dickensen on hand.

All my life things my brothers thought uninteresting fascinated me, especially things of the spirit. Even when I was very young. While in kindergarten there was this little church in Willows, California.

I jumped up as high as I could and grabbed the rope. My five-year-old body swung the bell in the tower above me, it rang out, a satisfying throbbing ring. I imagined people all over town hearing the bell ring, telling them it was time for church. As my feet touched the floor I let go. The rope swung up, and just as the rope reached its peak I jumped even higher, making the clang even louder.

BONG, -ONG, ong, ong, o n g... (It’s time for church!)

BONG, -ONG, ong, ong, o n g... (It’s time for church!)

BONG, -ONG, ong, ong, o n g... (It’s time for church!)


That was a significant year for me spiritually, 1961.

I started school. Kindergarten was next to the city swimming pool. I learned I’m not supposed to climb the school fence and run home to tell my mom something. I learned I didn’t draw the sun right (some girl whose name I cannot recall told me so). It was supposed to be round with wiggly lines and a smile, not a brilliant yellow white orb with speckles in a pale blue sky. I learned that if you aren’t feeling well they will take your temperature in the strangest way. And I learned that God was a real part of my life.

I was so honored to ring that church bell. It was like they had chosen me to help be the voice of God, telling our town that He was here, that it was Sunday, and everyone should hurry to church and hear stories about Him.

One Sunday I saw something my mom didn’t believe. The stain glass window of Jesus holding a lamb grew fuzzy, softened, and His face turned to me and smiled. I knew I must be special. He stopped and smiled at me! I cried silently and smiled. My dad frowned.

A few weeks later there was a communion service. My mom told me I couldn’t do it yet, I was too little, I didn’t understand what communion meant.

I loved my mother, but I knew she was wrong. I knew what it was about. I knew it wasn’t just bread and juice, that it wasn’t a snack. I knew it represented something much bigger, much more important. I knew it was about how Jesus was God in the form of a man and that He had let people hurt Him, kill Him, and that the bread and juice represented Him so we could always remember what He did and that we could take part in that sacrifice. I knew He had done it for me.

But words such as sacrifice, and salvation, and communion weren’t yet a part of my vocabulary. I couldn’t tell her I understood what it was all about. For a moment I felt like arguing with her (something I never did). But I also felt, deep inside, that it was ok, that it didn’t matter. That He knew what was in my heart.

Now I am pushing fifty and I feel a stirring in my heart that is still fresh, still passionate.

I have been reading Scientific American thoroughly since 1980 and I still devour books as if they are some sort of food that sustains me. But they aren't, they don’t.

I have found something more satisfying.

I love the Lord my God with all of my heart.

When I am mindful.

What a weak man I am. I can’t seem to keep that focus.

Here’s a guy who could sit for three hours, staring at a candle flame, and he can’t be obedient to his Lord and master, fully obedient, for a single day.

Ah well.

I’m not really going to beat myself up over it. In fact, that is the point of this post. (And you thought I’d never get to it!)

I am saved. The creator of the universe has literally moved the laws of physics, moved Heaven, and moved Earth, and moved Hell, just to be reunited with beings who reject Him continually. I know this to be a truth that is clearer than simple addition. Simpler than the fact that hydrogen is abundant and rainbows are pretty. I know it to be truer than my own beating heart. I am saved. I am loved.

I feel joy that makes me dance. Truly, it does! I do this stupid little dance sometimes when I am praying on my solitary walks.

But it isn’t enough. It isn’t all that I am seeking.

For I know that the joy I feel, the thrill of loving my Lord is shallow.

I know that the grief that broke my heart in two, when I clutched my dead child from the cold metal table at Willamette Falls Hospital, is a pale emotion compared to the LIFE, the VITALITY, I will feel when my faith is sight.

I know that the love I feel for my wife, especially when she smiles, is a shadow of the happiness I will feel when I shake off this flesh, and gaze upon the splendor that my soul continuously whispers to me exists beyond the borders of this strange mortal existence.

Science has a huge blind spot. It decrees that what is true, what is real, are all the things that are measurable, repeatable, observable. But I know there are many things that are not measurable, repeatable, observable. I can feel it because there is something inside my chest, some living, flopping, twisting thing that leaps and sings and has no part of what a doctor might see if he were to spread my ribs apart and peer within.

I have been giving a lot of thought to the band U2 and there is a song that has been rolling through my mind this past week and while I have been tapping away at this keyboard.

I have climbed highest mountains
I have run through the fields
Only to be with you
Only to be with you
I have run
I have crawled
I have scaled these city walls
These city walls
Only to be with you

But I still haven't found what I'm looking for
But I still haven't found what I'm looking for

I have kissed honey lips
Felt my healing in her fingertips
It burned like fire
This burning desire

I have spoke with the tongue of angels
I have held the hand of a devil
It was warm in the night
I was cold as a stone

But I still haven't found what I'm looking for
But I still haven't found what I'm looking for

I believe in the kingdom come
Then all the colors will bleed into one
Bleed into one
Well, yes I'm still running

You broke the bonds
And you loosed the chains
Carried the cross
Of my shame
Of my shame
You know I believed it

But I still haven't found what I'm looking for
But I still haven't found what I'm looking for
But I still haven't found what I'm looking for

I have found something wonderful

I have found the reality of the divine incarnated. I have swept that truth into my heart and into my life.

But I know that I was created, all of us were created, to sit in a garden and speak with God, spirit to spirit, fully present to each other, and that was torn apart by the selfish motives of all humans who want to have things their own way.

We can’t help it! We are mortal. We are flesh.

Adam had to flee that intense reality, the presence of the almighty God, and Moses learned he could not look upon that reality, that truth, and live.

But it won’t be that way forever. Not forever.

I still haven’t found what I am looking for...

But someday I will.










If you have lost your passion for life. If you are seeking for a truth greater than yourself, for something that will make your heart quicken more than it did when you first fell in love. You need a relationship with the creator of all things. This isn’t some pap, some sappy western myth, but a reality.

It isn’t the total package, but it is as much joy as a mortal frame can handle.

Streaming

Whew.

Brenda is at an AA meeting and the boys are bathing. I just finished grading papers. It is almost time to help my kids into bed, say prayers with them.

Since this blog ranges from the theological to the every day stuff, I thought I would at least make an attempt at posting tonight by using this as a little journal to record my thoughts.

First, I am discouraged by how many of my students chose to plagiarize from the internet. Eight of my students have some explaining to do. Worst I’ve ever seen. I wonder if it is because they didn’t expect a technology teacher to check out their writing so closely. This only happened once or twice a year when I was teaching English.

Busy week. I interviewed for and was selected to help rethink how our middle school works. I wrestled with a toilet and, after three heroic days of struggle, emerged victorious. I did a painting for a friend. I began several new spiritual disciplines (new prayers at night, new prayers in the morning, and meeting with some folks each Thursday night).

Isaac told me how he didn’t want me anointing and praying over him each night. I told him I might go a little easier on the oil for a bit, but the prayer thing is here to stay, even if I just come up, and do it silently beside his bed. Kid is turning into a teenager.

I am definitely growing the beard back as soon as Easter passes. Strange ritual, scraping my face each morning. At least it makes me stop long enough to pray through certain things each morning. Everyone tells me it makes me look younger, but what the heck, I don’t have to look at my face. If this face is too aged, they can avert their eyes. The shaving thing goes.

I’ve taken to walking a half hour each morning to pray (PT: that's where I'm off to when you see me on Redwood in the mornings). That is a significant time for me. I have been thinking about my spiritual life and I believe I am becoming more excited, more passionate about it all the time. Not the enthusiasm and fervor I felt when I was a teen attending Calvary Chapel in a tent in Costa Mesa, but a swelling of my heart that makes me feel emotions that aren’t easy to express.

I’m working on that. I am trying to finish up a post that inspired by a conversation about U2’s song “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For”. I am trying to formulate how I feel about my faith today.

This past year has been such a strange journey. And though it has had challenges that have hurt (financially, emotionally, spiritually, physically) I see it has been very good for me. I am not the man I was a year ago.

Speaking of changes, the missing beard has prompted me to look closer at my physical features and I have to admit it... I’m not 30 anymore.

In general I am fine with turning 50. It just seems a little weird.

Gosh, I want to get into the subject of the post I am writing, but I guess I best get to the kids and lay my head down to sleep and pray the Lord my soul to keep.

My apologies for the stream of consciousness post tonight, but it is all I can spare of me for tonight.

God bless.

Ode to a Missing Beard

In honor of St. Patty's Day I offer this limerick:

There once was a curious servant,
who shaved all his beard for Lent.
He was caught by surprise,
by cheeks of great size,
and said "Razors are money ill-spent!"