an outburst of joy

Inexplicable but undeniable—
Quiet and first, but pouring eventually over;
The pieces askew suddenly set right.

Surely you have turned my mourning to dancing,
taken my rags and clothed me in gladness;
surely you've transformed these doubts to singing
and laughter so easily comes bubbling forth!

Psalm 117

Praise the Lord, all nations!

Extol him, all peoples!

For great is his steadfast love toward us,

and the faithfulness of the Lord endures forever.

Praise the Lord!

My questions are yet unanswered;
Life's challenges shall remain;
imperfections persist in me.

But of this he has reassured me;
From this he brings me peace:
His steadfast love and sovereignty
and faithfulness never cease!



[Praise the Lord, O my soul,
Praise the Lord!]

Revelations from the Wilderness

Day 5 in the Boundary Waters
I have been in a dry place spiritually for many months, seeking God and sometimes (more often than I'd like), doubting Him.  On Thursday, the fifth day of our canoeing and camping trip, God encouraged me with this reminder of His faithfulness; to bring me peace and keep me seeking Him faithfully, too.


Each morning, whether or not we see it through the clouds, the sun rises.
Each evening, as it fades past the horizon, I never doubt that it will rise again to bring us dawn.

Each year, summer is followed by autumn, autumn by winter, and, sooner or later, winter by spring.
Though winter may seem interminable, I never doubt the eventual return of warmth and green.

Whether obscured or clear, I never doubt the presence of the stars in the heavens or the moon cycling around.

How, then, can I doubt the faithfulness of the God who carefully created and controls all these things?

Surely He is much greater than His majestic creation!

trapped in suburbia

In my ache for God I also find myself hungry for beauty.

I am impatient with the concrete and glass, siding and metal and shingles of suburbia; tired of sunsets elusive behind man-made structures and stars washed out by our artificial, never-ending daylight; stifled by the noise and commotion that drive away the peace of silence and stillness and nature-noises.  I want to see beyond the rows of edifices that stretch well past the flat horizon.

God seems easier to find amidst the glory--the raw, untempered beauty--of His creation.  I don't mean to imply that Creation didn't fall, too. I'm not really making any theological statements here; just speaking of my own thoughts and tendencies.  Maybe I just see God more easily in what He made directly.


And when I yearn for God so painfully, it becomes easy, perhaps, to feel trapped within the fences and walls of suburbia.

some whimsical nonsense

Maybe, my dear, the world has fallen over;
   perhaps we're sailing through the sky.
Perhaps the stars have all gone hollow
   and eternity is on our side.
It's possible, of course, that everything is over—
   but maybe, my dear, we're finally alive.

summer embers

Summer evening
clouds are lit by gold.


Cool wind
whispers across my ears.


Slender leaves,
  parallel telephone wires,
    rising birds
are darkened against blue and gold
  of summer sky.


Breathe in embers of evening
and daylight.

family game nights

This haiku is a joke, my response to a challenge from my sister.  The story it tells, on the other hand, is more or less true.

The card game golf is

just great. I won by forty.

Strategy is mine.

Or, perhaps, if you'd like a little more context, here's the alternate version:

The card game golf is

just great. I won by forty.

Happy Father's Day!

Belated, I know, but it happens.

On other news, take advantage of that extra sunlight and enjoy the Summer Solstice!

monday morning musings

The chaos: I'm sick.
The cosmos: down time and rest.


One thing (among many) I look forward to about eternity is the fact that we won't have to rush to do anything; won't feel compelled to hurry busily from one place, one thing, to the next.  Granted, I'm not sure we should be so busy all the time in THIS life, but there we won't be limited to our four-score-and-ten, plus or minus a few decades.

Revelation says there will be no sun...still, I wonder sometimes if there will be sunrises and sunsets just the same—or perhaps something better in their place?  Then we would rejoice with each sunrise—even on Monday mornings—filled with joy for yet another day to live in the reign and presence of our King!

Even as I write that I feel a bit like a child dreaming of a fairy-book ever-after, contemplating safety in the King's castle, all well with the world.  No matter.  Perhaps that is only a medieval twist on the truth after all.

The grey sky and wet, green grass and tree-leaves outside might seem dreary, but right now they make me feel cozy to be stuck indoors.

And maybe...maybe I'm not supposed to be sure about sunrises and sunsets on the "new earth" in order that I may appreciate them now, each day, rejoicing that I am witnessing another day beginning and ending, secure within God's love, safe in His grace and power, ransomed for all time into the joyous courts of His magnificent dwelling, priviliged—nay blessed—to know Him truly and delight in Him.  Of course there is hardship, but I am His, and freedom will come....

Obscurity

Some shadowy obscurity
Has darkened all I thought I knew;
Where am I,
And where are you?

I know the me of an earlier day—
Recognizing me now?—
It's harder to say.

I am unfaithful,
You are true;
I am broken,
You make things new.

You've seen the tears, the cries, the need,
The empty hands imploring you—
But where am I,
And where are you?

I think I know you pretty well
But the familiar form seems rather vague
And honestly it's hard to tell—
Who am I?
And who are you?

I miss the joy, life, and delight,
And while I know you're near
It's so hard to trust
While full of dark and wretched fears.

I need to know your love
In the very depths of my soul;
To come tenderly in
And make me wonderfully whole.

I am your bride, your love, your child,
You are the Father, the bridegroom, a mystery—
You call me your own,
You vow to be with me.

Still I feel lost and alone,
Imperfect, undone
(nothing is new,
says the cynical sun),

Unimportantly mumbling
To myself and the sky—
Who are you again?—
And who am I?

And if you see fit to answer,
Tell me, too—
Where am I?
And where are you?

Wilkerson: Death & Wisdom

David Wilkerson, author of The Cross and the Switchblade and founder of Teen Challenge and World Challenge, died in a car crash last night.

A friend sent me a link to Rev. Wilkerson's blog and I found his post yesterday, and particularly the day before (April 26) a strong encouragement to persevere in all areas of my life but particularly my faith--especially right now in this stressful time at the end of a hectic semester, and as I am faced with my own shortcomings and failings.  It strikes me too, that his last post spoke of trusting God and finding hope in Him even when facing "the valley of the shadow of death" and that "one day it will all make sense."

I encourage you to peruse his blog and read wisdom from a godly man who lived out the gospel he preached!

http://davidwilkersontoday.blogspot.com/

blurred and weary

The bland gray of monotonous days
trudging along with the heaviness of tired self,
accelerated by challenge of work upon work,
the heavy murmur of failure in disquiet ears.

Singing birds give a pretense of life.
But Spring has regressed,
sunk back into grey, chill Winter,
and any green is lost
beneath dirty snow.



Friday's darkness descends
and heavy clouds obscure all light.
What suffering, O what torment!
We hold our breath in somber expectation.

Glorious dawn of Sunday--
O what joy, O what hope!
People across all the nations
join in celebrating, rejoicing;
we recall life is so much greater than us.



Torrents of April rain
whisper hope of an eventual Spring
while dismal must-piles
demand focus of a weary brain.

O Great God, let there be hope in me
as in the larking, light-hearted air-minstrels;
let there be joy and trust in me
as in the flow'ring boughs.
And let me bring you glory with each trudging day that comes.


[amen]