I was in town shopping and the man in the check out line had a withered hand, drawn up in a half claw against his chest; more like a T-Rex fore claw than a man’s hand. My initial feeling was pride for the man because he was working; not allowing a disability, a physical setback to keep him from living life. He didn’t seem worried that people might stare at him, or might whisper when they walked past his checkout line.
However, when I got in the car and was driving down the road I suddenly thought about the story in the Bible where Jesus healed the man with the withered hand, in a synagogue, on the Sabbath day. It struck me just how visually astounding this miracle would have been. To see a man with this bent up, withered, claw-like hand, pull it out of his robe whole; muscled forearm and complete dexterity where twisted wreckage had been.
Then I thought of the Pharisees and that in the midst of this miracle, faced full on with wonder, the only thing they could think of was that it was the Sabbath and that this was somehow impermissible. No compassion, no love, no wonder. Their hatred for Jesus and their tenacious grappling for power and control left their hearts so shriveled that they had lost their sense of wonder.
No love, no compassion, no wonder…not even a whisper of excitement, of that childlike intensity and wild-eyed wonder at the seemingly impossible. They had lost the impetus in the search for truth and traded it for the form; traded sorrow for crepes and shrouds, joy for hollow laughter and banal jokes. It reminded me of what C.S. Lewis told us in “The Great Divorce” through the one of the Bright People, trying to reason with a Ghost who had lost all true reason in the pursuit of human wisdom.
“…Once you were a child. Once you knew what inquiry was for. There was a time when you asked questions because you wanted answers, and were glad when you had found them. Become that child again: even now.”
Jesus came to remind them of something written in their own Pentateuch. Deuteronomy 7:7-8:
“It was not because you were more in number than any other people that the LORD set his love on you and chose you, for you were the fewest of all peoples, (8) but it is because the LORD loves you…”
As I drove away and thought of that man with the lazy eyes and the withered hand, I thought of Christ and how he loves us so much that he reminds us time and time again by example to keep first things, first. As humans we seem predisposed towards the legal; towards a list that tells us we can do this and this and make it. We are objective creatures and indeed truth is by nature objective, but it is an objectivity beyond our control and that makes us nervous. The Pharisees wanted to autonomy and this new Truth (which was really Ageless) threatened their autonomy and so rather than see the wonder in the miraculous, the heart of a Father that SO LOVED THIS WORLD, they chose instead to plot and scheme behind closed doors and murder the Son of God.
BUT, do we not in our own way plot and scheme behind gilded doors of our souls and justify our actions and nullify our laws because we forget we did nothing to merit grace and can do nothing to maintain it? It is interesting is it not, that the sum of all commandments is wrapped in Love. On these hang ALL the law and the prophets.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Thursday, February 10, 2011
counting a few blessings...
Since I last jotted down a few scattered thoughts, God has been working in my life and in the direction that He is taking me. I thought that perhaps this warranted an update. To be honest, I have wanted to update, but with camp on and my touch o' the Blarney stone, I tend to get home late after service, rather tired and no longer in the frame of mind necessary to blog. So, it is a beautiful, dripping February morning with air so think and moist that you nearly need a machete to hack your way from one building to the other; I'm inside and have a few moments so here it goes.
Blessing #1: I was able to sell quite a lot at the two yard sales that Jenny, Robert and I held. Although, to give credit where credit is due, they did most of the selling work and I am indebted. I am one of the world's worst salesmen and can talk myself down when the buyer would gladly pay more. So, my hat is off to them for helping me to part with some of my worldly goods and get a bit of money to help towards my move and future ministry as well as the ongoing expenses of life here.
Blessing #2: God provided me with work that took me down to Marathon Islands in the Keys every other day, it paid decent and it left me free to get more of my visa requirements done. I prayed for work and God answered in an abundance that I don't even have time to do; He takes care of His kids. As an added bonus, I got to drive across those bridges each morning and look out over a beautiful Caribbean scene at sunrise; it was breathtaking.
Blessing #3: I was praying that my tax return would bring some funds and had a figure in my mind that I thought would be nice (I don't do my own taxes so it's always a surprise). God provided a number that blew mine away several times and made me want to hug the first person I saw after I opened the envelope. That money will hopefully help towards a vehicle when I arrive in South Africa.
Blessing #4: Camp has been a blessing. If you are thinking of going to the mission field or if you are already slated to do so, there is no better crowd to commission you than the Seabreeze Camp crowd. I think many of them are more excited about the ministry than I confess I have been. Many have already told me that they will be praying and this is a wonderful knowledge.
There are many, many more blessings that I could recount, as I am sure all of us could. The greatest is the grace of God and the sacrifice of His Son, Jesus Christ. Without that I would not even be writing these posts or stressing about moving to Africa. He is working on me and teaching more about Himself and I ask any of you who read this to pray for me in this end. I need to show Christ to those school children and I cannot do that well unless I truly know Him myself.
These thoughts are perhaps a bit disjointed and I have no doubt in my haste I have misspelled a word here or there or perhaps made an awkward sentence, but thank you for reading anyway. Those with accounts, feel free to comment or talk with me on here; the company will be lovely when I'm overseas. Also, if you would like to get a newsletter from me, please send me your email address or just a quick note to jehoward42@gmail.com. I'd love to hear from you.
Blessing #1: I was able to sell quite a lot at the two yard sales that Jenny, Robert and I held. Although, to give credit where credit is due, they did most of the selling work and I am indebted. I am one of the world's worst salesmen and can talk myself down when the buyer would gladly pay more. So, my hat is off to them for helping me to part with some of my worldly goods and get a bit of money to help towards my move and future ministry as well as the ongoing expenses of life here.
Blessing #2: God provided me with work that took me down to Marathon Islands in the Keys every other day, it paid decent and it left me free to get more of my visa requirements done. I prayed for work and God answered in an abundance that I don't even have time to do; He takes care of His kids. As an added bonus, I got to drive across those bridges each morning and look out over a beautiful Caribbean scene at sunrise; it was breathtaking.
Blessing #3: I was praying that my tax return would bring some funds and had a figure in my mind that I thought would be nice (I don't do my own taxes so it's always a surprise). God provided a number that blew mine away several times and made me want to hug the first person I saw after I opened the envelope. That money will hopefully help towards a vehicle when I arrive in South Africa.
Blessing #4: Camp has been a blessing. If you are thinking of going to the mission field or if you are already slated to do so, there is no better crowd to commission you than the Seabreeze Camp crowd. I think many of them are more excited about the ministry than I confess I have been. Many have already told me that they will be praying and this is a wonderful knowledge.
There are many, many more blessings that I could recount, as I am sure all of us could. The greatest is the grace of God and the sacrifice of His Son, Jesus Christ. Without that I would not even be writing these posts or stressing about moving to Africa. He is working on me and teaching more about Himself and I ask any of you who read this to pray for me in this end. I need to show Christ to those school children and I cannot do that well unless I truly know Him myself.
These thoughts are perhaps a bit disjointed and I have no doubt in my haste I have misspelled a word here or there or perhaps made an awkward sentence, but thank you for reading anyway. Those with accounts, feel free to comment or talk with me on here; the company will be lovely when I'm overseas. Also, if you would like to get a newsletter from me, please send me your email address or just a quick note to jehoward42@gmail.com. I'd love to hear from you.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
he laid down his guns...
I sat today in the back of a church and looked at small man lying in a box.
He was 101 years old when he passed away.
The most I was around him in life was the few times I rose in the early, damp dawn and slipped down to the church to pray. He was already 99 or 100 then, but he was there, faithfully every morning. I remember seeing him in the darkness of the sanctuary, the only light coming from the platform and that not quite reaching him, his hands in the air for an unbelievably long time (longer than I could have held mine outstretched) speaking to his Friend of nearly a century.
In a way I envied him in that box. I start and stop and fall and God picks me up and dusts my skinned knees and whispers to me to do better. So, in some sense I envied him for where he was, that he no longer had to worry about the cares of life, but perhaps more in an ephemeral sense, that his work in this life was done and he had been ready; really, longing to "lay down his guns" and enter into rest.
"Be still, my soul..." the words have been playing and playing today. I have a long way to go, but I want to follow Lee Carroll's example and "...bear patiently, my cross of grief and shame." I find an increasing tendency to laziness and the comforts of this life and it frightens me. I want more than anything to do great things for God.
"No soldier gets entangled in civilian pursuits, since his aim is to please the one who enlisted him." II Timothy 2:4
He was 101 years old when he passed away.
The most I was around him in life was the few times I rose in the early, damp dawn and slipped down to the church to pray. He was already 99 or 100 then, but he was there, faithfully every morning. I remember seeing him in the darkness of the sanctuary, the only light coming from the platform and that not quite reaching him, his hands in the air for an unbelievably long time (longer than I could have held mine outstretched) speaking to his Friend of nearly a century.
In a way I envied him in that box. I start and stop and fall and God picks me up and dusts my skinned knees and whispers to me to do better. So, in some sense I envied him for where he was, that he no longer had to worry about the cares of life, but perhaps more in an ephemeral sense, that his work in this life was done and he had been ready; really, longing to "lay down his guns" and enter into rest.
"Be still, my soul..." the words have been playing and playing today. I have a long way to go, but I want to follow Lee Carroll's example and "...bear patiently, my cross of grief and shame." I find an increasing tendency to laziness and the comforts of this life and it frightens me. I want more than anything to do great things for God.
"No soldier gets entangled in civilian pursuits, since his aim is to please the one who enlisted him." II Timothy 2:4
Saturday, January 29, 2011
borrowed table full of stuff...
It is 4:22 am and I can't sleep. I just got back from the Keys and I have to be up at 6 am to get ready for our yard sale and I can't sleep. Visions of packing and tickets and visas and funds (or the lack) are dancing like sugarplums in my head. I sometimes see how it will all play out and then at other times I can't see anything.
I took Ty (my nephew) with me tonight down to the Keys and we had fun just chatting and laughing together. On the way down, when we were already on the islands, we put the sun roof back and stared (I did watch the road intermittently) through the hole in the ceiling of the car at a vast, inky black field of lights. Immense globes of flame, dancing and singing praises to the Creator. It is wonderful to find yourself in a place, like that, surrounded by ocean and so few lights that the stars just seem to come from everywhere. You realize just how small you are and in that moment you are in your proper place; in absolute awe of the infinite God.
I am sure that even those who would call themselves atheists, look at a sky like that and feel that same awe, only their troubled mind lacks a definition for it.
So, in the morning I will place some of my belongings on a borrowed table and submit it to a thousand scrutinies by complete strangers. Perhaps some will find themselves unable to live without it and should that happen enough times; maybe, just maybe I'll leave my room a little emptier than I find it right now.
Well, I guess that's all I have to say really. God has been good to me, but then again, that's nothing new. He always has been. Goodnight, or perhaps I should say, good morning.
I took Ty (my nephew) with me tonight down to the Keys and we had fun just chatting and laughing together. On the way down, when we were already on the islands, we put the sun roof back and stared (I did watch the road intermittently) through the hole in the ceiling of the car at a vast, inky black field of lights. Immense globes of flame, dancing and singing praises to the Creator. It is wonderful to find yourself in a place, like that, surrounded by ocean and so few lights that the stars just seem to come from everywhere. You realize just how small you are and in that moment you are in your proper place; in absolute awe of the infinite God.
I am sure that even those who would call themselves atheists, look at a sky like that and feel that same awe, only their troubled mind lacks a definition for it.
So, in the morning I will place some of my belongings on a borrowed table and submit it to a thousand scrutinies by complete strangers. Perhaps some will find themselves unable to live without it and should that happen enough times; maybe, just maybe I'll leave my room a little emptier than I find it right now.
Well, I guess that's all I have to say really. God has been good to me, but then again, that's nothing new. He always has been. Goodnight, or perhaps I should say, good morning.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
black holes and the synaptically-challenged...
At this moment I'm sitting in what I will call,
I am still uncertain of who has the control, but daily I am having misgivings that it is me. My room looks as if a random collocation of rogue atoms in the universe banded together to create a monster. I have books stacked upon books in various corners and sectors representing everything from Crime and Punishment to Here Be Monsters! I have clothes stacked awaiting yard sale, CD's piled on my desk, on my record player (also soon to be auctioned) and I begin to feel just a little disconnected. Things that once seemed like old friends grow price tags over night and I feel my relationship to what is temporal begin to shift.
Somehow in the coming few days I have to sort through seven years...no, wait; twelve years of life. I see myself as Linus with this unsightly cloud of clutter that seems to suspend itself awkwardly in my wake. It is sobering to think how much stuff I have generated in such a short life. Simplify.
I am moving. I am going to Africa once again. If I allow myself to dwell on what needs to happen between where I sit in this black hole of organization, to when I step into a cramped, aluminum tube to jet across the cold Atlantic, I am uncertain how it will all play out, but in juxtaposition to that position is the knowledge that I know Christ has called me to this and He has not and will not leave me to my own synaptically-challenged thought patterns and memory blackouts. Things will happen, needs will be provided and when I look in retrospect it will look like the inside of a fine pocket watch with every tiny gear and perfectly machined component fitting into its place. And this mirror, this clouded glass will reveal itself and every "chance" happening will prove to be ordained and planned and set in place by a loving Father.
I try not to worry about the days ahead or fret about whether or not everything will happen, but try and enjoy the days that God has given me here with friends and family; they are so few. My mother received a DVD for Christmas, a Hallmark movie called The Magic of Ordinary Days. That thought has really struck me. Do I see the magic that is in every "ordinary" day?
If we could fathom the forces at work in the sun and the universe as we fly through space and discover truly, what happens every time we see that sun slip into the morning sky and feel that cool ocean breeze weaving through the trees and across the water in tiny ripples; no day would be ordinary again. These days are magic. Every breath is a second chance, a gift from our Father. Use them well.
If I cross your mind, pray for me as I try to harness the chaos and hopefully emerge with a few well-packed boxes and a greater appreciation for all the blessings that I have received.
controlledchaos.
I am still uncertain of who has the control, but daily I am having misgivings that it is me. My room looks as if a random collocation of rogue atoms in the universe banded together to create a monster. I have books stacked upon books in various corners and sectors representing everything from Crime and Punishment to Here Be Monsters! I have clothes stacked awaiting yard sale, CD's piled on my desk, on my record player (also soon to be auctioned) and I begin to feel just a little disconnected. Things that once seemed like old friends grow price tags over night and I feel my relationship to what is temporal begin to shift.
Somehow in the coming few days I have to sort through seven years...no, wait; twelve years of life. I see myself as Linus with this unsightly cloud of clutter that seems to suspend itself awkwardly in my wake. It is sobering to think how much stuff I have generated in such a short life. Simplify.
I am moving. I am going to Africa once again. If I allow myself to dwell on what needs to happen between where I sit in this black hole of organization, to when I step into a cramped, aluminum tube to jet across the cold Atlantic, I am uncertain how it will all play out, but in juxtaposition to that position is the knowledge that I know Christ has called me to this and He has not and will not leave me to my own synaptically-challenged thought patterns and memory blackouts. Things will happen, needs will be provided and when I look in retrospect it will look like the inside of a fine pocket watch with every tiny gear and perfectly machined component fitting into its place. And this mirror, this clouded glass will reveal itself and every "chance" happening will prove to be ordained and planned and set in place by a loving Father.
I try not to worry about the days ahead or fret about whether or not everything will happen, but try and enjoy the days that God has given me here with friends and family; they are so few. My mother received a DVD for Christmas, a Hallmark movie called The Magic of Ordinary Days. That thought has really struck me. Do I see the magic that is in every "ordinary" day?
If we could fathom the forces at work in the sun and the universe as we fly through space and discover truly, what happens every time we see that sun slip into the morning sky and feel that cool ocean breeze weaving through the trees and across the water in tiny ripples; no day would be ordinary again. These days are magic. Every breath is a second chance, a gift from our Father. Use them well.
If I cross your mind, pray for me as I try to harness the chaos and hopefully emerge with a few well-packed boxes and a greater appreciation for all the blessings that I have received.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
#itsthe011son...
I suppose this should be the post where I lay bare my plans for the New Year and all my supposed resolutions. The fact is, I have never really been one to make that many resolutions, if any, but I think more than most this year has given me pause.
I actually fell asleep before the changing of the guard between 2010 and 2011. Delani woke me up on the couch about a quarter after midnight and I wearily walked to my room and went to sleep. It was the next morning that the beauty of the new year really sank in. It's like a clean slate, a new beginning. Yes, I know all the various cliches are rather trite, but I think amidst all the verbiage, there is some truth; we all get a second chance with the new year.
I made a mess of the last year and where it went I cannot really say. I have been blessed I know beyond a doubt. I have seen sunsets and sunrises to make your heart ache. I have seen mountain views and deep snow drifts and stormy seas. I've made new friends, traveled, drank good coffee, listened to beautiful music, said goodbyes, found grey hairs and come to the slow realization that thirty is much closer than I used to think. I have so many beautiful memories, painful regrets and faithful nudges from the Holy Spirit this year and I am truly blessed.
So, back to the resolutions, or lack thereof; I suppose I have a few. To fear less. To grow in my walk with Christ. To be thankful everyday to Christ for not giving up on me when I had given up on Him this past year. To read more. To read better quality. To watch fewer movies and have more conversations. To take more pictures of the ones I love. To not wish I was anywhere but where I am and in the company of those I'm with. To place others before myself. To learn to be the kind of man that my father is; a good husband, a wonderful father, a faithful friend and a fearless adventurer who takes to the skies nearly everyday.
So, goodnight and a happy New Year to all of you.
I actually fell asleep before the changing of the guard between 2010 and 2011. Delani woke me up on the couch about a quarter after midnight and I wearily walked to my room and went to sleep. It was the next morning that the beauty of the new year really sank in. It's like a clean slate, a new beginning. Yes, I know all the various cliches are rather trite, but I think amidst all the verbiage, there is some truth; we all get a second chance with the new year.
I made a mess of the last year and where it went I cannot really say. I have been blessed I know beyond a doubt. I have seen sunsets and sunrises to make your heart ache. I have seen mountain views and deep snow drifts and stormy seas. I've made new friends, traveled, drank good coffee, listened to beautiful music, said goodbyes, found grey hairs and come to the slow realization that thirty is much closer than I used to think. I have so many beautiful memories, painful regrets and faithful nudges from the Holy Spirit this year and I am truly blessed.
So, back to the resolutions, or lack thereof; I suppose I have a few. To fear less. To grow in my walk with Christ. To be thankful everyday to Christ for not giving up on me when I had given up on Him this past year. To read more. To read better quality. To watch fewer movies and have more conversations. To take more pictures of the ones I love. To not wish I was anywhere but where I am and in the company of those I'm with. To place others before myself. To learn to be the kind of man that my father is; a good husband, a wonderful father, a faithful friend and a fearless adventurer who takes to the skies nearly everyday.
So, goodnight and a happy New Year to all of you.
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
December 7, 2010...
It was a typical night tonight; so full of the usual distractions that have become commonplace in my life. I watched a National Geographic segment on the White House chief photographer and then took in the mindless, over-dramatic world of Bones in which a CIA desk worker was murdered for uncovering a sinister plot.
It was cold outside to say the least. The weather app on my phone said it could freeze tonight and I believe it. I took some sheets and carefully covered some of the exterior flowers in hopes that their delicate bodies will last the night and then, inexplicably and without reason I began to walk.
I walked down my street, shoulders hunched against the cold and collar turned up, in an attempt to hold out against the invasion of frigid air. My Ipod played loudly in my ears as I walked without any purpose, without any real thought and then I turned to my left and saw the house lights reflecting on the water and I paused. There was something so peaceful, so tranquil that my mind took a picture and wished this moment could last and that everyone could somehow see it through my eyes.
Then I did something that I haven’t done in quite sometime; I took my eyes off earth and stared towards the stars. Somehow, by Divine decree, I had stopped in the one place on the street where the glow from the lamps did not inhibit the view of the sky. I felt a smallness that I had been missing in my egoist search for existential meaning. To have any experience of value in life, one must feel truly small and insignificant and a part of something beyond scope or measure.
I had been absent for so long I felt lost looking at familiar skies. I reached up and turned off my headphones and just breathed. I breathed the cold night air and heard the roar of the waves in the distance, and the subtle sounds of a sleeping town. The stars seemed so close, a collection of tiny lights at the doorway to an inky, endless expanse; so black that you forgot for a moment the sheer depth of space. These stars were friends once as a child when I would lay on my back on the cold ground in Lesotho and stare at constellations that to me had no name; but now they only stared blankly back at me.
It seemed that the more I stood there in the street, the more I stared into the constellations, I began to see more stars, faint at first and then gathering courage and peering out from the gloom. They felt more at ease in my presence and became more pronounced, the stars that had always been visible shone with a fiercer intensity. I was becoming close again and I stood there in the disquieting quiet and heard myself think and felt more than I had felt in months; that I was alive and eternal and fragile and strangely disconnected. The wonder of stars had faded in the glow of computer screens and TV sets and the indescribable wonder of my sight I was pawning away on 30 second media bytes and pointless games.
I turned and caught a glimpse of a star as it made its final, fiery dive into the cold Atlantic. It began to sink in that I am standing on just one tiny light in space as it spins and hurls through the cosmos in perfect precision; set in motion by the breath of Almighty God. Cold air rushed into my lungs and shot back out in silver clouds like smoke. I felt small, I felt insignificant…I felt. I breathed. I lived.
It was cold outside to say the least. The weather app on my phone said it could freeze tonight and I believe it. I took some sheets and carefully covered some of the exterior flowers in hopes that their delicate bodies will last the night and then, inexplicably and without reason I began to walk.
I walked down my street, shoulders hunched against the cold and collar turned up, in an attempt to hold out against the invasion of frigid air. My Ipod played loudly in my ears as I walked without any purpose, without any real thought and then I turned to my left and saw the house lights reflecting on the water and I paused. There was something so peaceful, so tranquil that my mind took a picture and wished this moment could last and that everyone could somehow see it through my eyes.
Then I did something that I haven’t done in quite sometime; I took my eyes off earth and stared towards the stars. Somehow, by Divine decree, I had stopped in the one place on the street where the glow from the lamps did not inhibit the view of the sky. I felt a smallness that I had been missing in my egoist search for existential meaning. To have any experience of value in life, one must feel truly small and insignificant and a part of something beyond scope or measure.
I had been absent for so long I felt lost looking at familiar skies. I reached up and turned off my headphones and just breathed. I breathed the cold night air and heard the roar of the waves in the distance, and the subtle sounds of a sleeping town. The stars seemed so close, a collection of tiny lights at the doorway to an inky, endless expanse; so black that you forgot for a moment the sheer depth of space. These stars were friends once as a child when I would lay on my back on the cold ground in Lesotho and stare at constellations that to me had no name; but now they only stared blankly back at me.
It seemed that the more I stood there in the street, the more I stared into the constellations, I began to see more stars, faint at first and then gathering courage and peering out from the gloom. They felt more at ease in my presence and became more pronounced, the stars that had always been visible shone with a fiercer intensity. I was becoming close again and I stood there in the disquieting quiet and heard myself think and felt more than I had felt in months; that I was alive and eternal and fragile and strangely disconnected. The wonder of stars had faded in the glow of computer screens and TV sets and the indescribable wonder of my sight I was pawning away on 30 second media bytes and pointless games.
I turned and caught a glimpse of a star as it made its final, fiery dive into the cold Atlantic. It began to sink in that I am standing on just one tiny light in space as it spins and hurls through the cosmos in perfect precision; set in motion by the breath of Almighty God. Cold air rushed into my lungs and shot back out in silver clouds like smoke. I felt small, I felt insignificant…I felt. I breathed. I lived.
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