SHOULD WHY FIGHT WE?

Just some stuff;  just FYI on a Friday.

Well,  the words we use are all mixed up.    The words we hear are all mixed up.  If you don’t have an internal compass,  a well-formed conscience,  a spiritual anchor —  it’s hard to make sense out of things – or to even reach a conclusion that you can be sure of.

There are two ways to rearrange those words in the title:

Why should we fight

Why we should fight

Two mutually incompatible thoughts, when you think of it.

I’m going to tell you some Dark Tales for a while, because it’s Friday today.      Christendom honors this as the day Christ died;  for our sins;  to bring grace and a “fountain” of blessings to the world;  and to make peace between our souls and God, and hence, peace  between one man and another.  Christ died for the sins we commit against each other, and to take that away.

Christ died so we won’t have to have Dark Tales to tell.

Once again the Western World is under ACTIVE attack from the Moslem world.    Wave after wave throughout fourteen centuries,  these attacks have been repeated.   By turning our attention to the attackers  (see Sun Tzu on  identifying the enemy)  we have discovered horrifying details about our attackers, even when they’re not busy killing us.

Their use of women,  for instance.    Chivalry arose in the Western World, as a natural outflow  of Christian values.  ( . . .  not the stern male-dominance  of the Puritan,  Calvinistic version of Christianity . . .)     However . . .

 Chivalry could not have arisen in the Moslem world.  (That’s a plain, declarative statement, worthy of the writing style of Ernest Hemingway.)

Women just sit and wait . . . .

Rounded up, at gunpoint:

Where the women are kept:

Dungeons in the sand

The Western photographers who came across these holes in the ground call them Dungeons.   There were women in there.   Waiting.

Then they are taken out,  displayed,  chosen by some man,  used,  used up,  sold to the next man,  used,  used up . . .   for however long.   More comfortable in the dungeon, I would think, although down there is fear,  horror,  worry,   hunger, thirst, discomfort,  pain, and injury.   

Women who have been rescued speak of repeated rapes,  beatings . . .  and then there is always this:

The man on the right, in white,  is standing in your way.   What you could be seeing is a woman,  all in black, lying on the ground.   Those little white dots on the ground?   

Stones.

Like the stones in the hands of some of the men.

It should stir our hearts to realize that this is not an uncommon scene.   It’s “okay,” though.  It’s sanctioned.     That means it’s okayed by their law.     The ones who are attacking the Western World.

Why should we fight?   Or:  Why we should fight.

Or is it a little unclear:   Should why fight we?

Now America is being attacked.     Americans are deciding, I guess,  while the Barack Hussein person is doing all he can to hold us back:

He’s wrong, you know.     Once te United States did fight back , to protect our interests  “on the shores of Tripoli” —  and that’s why the United States Marines were constituted.

By Thomas Jefferson.

And the Moslem pirates,  those Barbary Pirates,  stayed quiet for almost two hundred years.

I know some Marines.  I’m quite sure they are ready to protect us.

USE FRIDAYS WELL

(Not for the fainthearted):   

With great sorrow  appropriate to a Friday in real life, and in union with the Passion that we remember on all Fridays, I turn from “beauty” yesterday to beastly actions of those who live without God’s beauty.

What is it about the number 15 that keeps coming up in the last 24 hours?   It was fun yesterday to think about the date:  1-15-15.  But I read newspapers from all over the world, and  blogs and editorial comments too, and the date isn’t fun anymore.

And 15 has unfortunately  come up in my readings — on this Friday .

So,  on the one hand, everywhere that Christendom (still) exists,   Friday is a day for penance, in the form of fasting, perhaps, and abstinence, certainly,  and a duty to  contemplate Good Friday, the day of the week of the Crucifixion, that 3-day , history-splitting event which ended all animal sacrifices because the One Sacrifice was accomplished.

All men must still die.   All Christians must still follow the Lamb of God all the way through death.  True Christianity is not for sissies:   We unite ourselves with Him and with His Passion and with sorrow, suffering, passion, and death of all people all over the world.   Because the world-without-Christ is a dark and sorrowful place.

And so I come to that number 15 on this day of the Crucifixion of Christ.

The man above was crucified by ISIS.   It was explained in a news article today that crucifixion is the preferred way, that is, the most chosen method,  of execution by the ISIS militants.   In Syria alone,  in the past two days,  15 civilians were crucified.    Many times the victim is shot first,  but not always.  I’ve seen photographs of men and woman,  without clothes,  affixed to crosses. too graphic to post here.

15 people in the last two days.

And then there is the news story out of Saudi Arabia.    A woman in the “holy” city of Mecca was beheaded this week in public.   They weren’t too good at it because although the executioners used a big sword,  the first cut only injured her.  Eyewitnesses say she was screaming in pain.  It took two more slashes with the sword to get her head to come off.

Graphic?   It sure was to this poor woman, who cried out her innocence for as long as she could.   The story continues that sometimes the victims of official beheadings are given painkillers first,  this woman was not.   She was Burmese, and the date of her death was January 12th, and YouTube had the video for a while; perhaps it’s still up there.

The year 2015 is proving to be a more deadly year than years past.  Nine people have been beheaded in Arabia’s first city so far this year.   What is that,  a little more than one every other day?

“2015” doesn’t have such a happy ring to it anymore.   Want to know what’s happening to Christians in Nigeria today?    How about a local  Hindu government decree to wipe out every Christian from  villages under its jurisdiction as reported last week?

This is a time for sobriety underlying our joy.

Or a time for joy underlying our sobriety.

Use Fridays well.

“IT WAS A DARK AND STORMY NIGHT. . .”

“It was a dark and stormy night…” (*)  may be the opening words of the truly “worst novel ever written,”  but here in the Far North,   it really WAS a dark and stormy night.

Perfect!  for Halloween!

Dark.   Strong gusty winds.   Snow showers.   Leaves rustling and wind roaring through the trees.

Perfect!  for wrapping up in a nice cozy fleece blanket and reading a semi-interesting book about the settling of the old West.

Hallowe’en is for children, and it’s fun to help them have a good scary fun time. . .   Tomorrow is All Saints Day –  honoring the “all Hallowed” people whom we have this All Hallows Evening for.    Today was Friday, and we give thanks by remembering that Friday almost two thousand years ago when God made peace between Himself and mankind — so that one day, believing,  we can walk those hallowed streets of Heaven, hallowed ourselves,  with the Hallowed saints who came before us.

Life is good and full and filled with interesting holidays and holy days and seasons changing and duties to do and feelings to feel and pleasures to enjoy.   These “dark and stormy” nights remind us of all the variety that comes our way.   Do it ALL!            (Happy Halloween!)

(*)  —  Opening lines of novel  Paul Clifford  by author  Edward Bulwer-Lytton  

OUR WORLD OF SLIDING ROCKS

For Friday, in Lent:

The reason that we take time out, in  Christendom,  to mark Fridays is because of this short verse from the Bible:   “There is only one Name, given among men,  by which we must be saved.”

Saved.  Saved from what?  Traveling to Pike’s Peak is a good place to start thinking about this world.

The first time I was there I was expecting a “mountain top,”  like solid rock and firm soil.   I was so surprised to find that the top was mostly small broken-up rocks.   Of course I walked all over, every place I could, looking out in every direction over the edge, way down into the great valleys.

My parents were forever telling me to stay closer to them because the rocks under my feet were slipping and sliding against each other.   I suppose if I did get it wrong, the rocks under my feet would begin sliding down, taking me along for the ride!     Maybe I was challenging that mountain top, wondering how far the sliding would go, feeling the thrill of a little danger.

There was no sure ground to stand on, on the edge of Pike’s Peak.   It kind of feels that way, now, in all the world around us.   I don’t need to list all the things around us that are crumbling, all the things that we are at the edge of, nearing the precipice; we can study all the dangers in the banking world, in our economy, the world-wide build-up towards war, the failing health system, growing crime of all kinds, an inability to come together to solve our problems….

When the ground is slipping under your feet it’s hard to come up with solutions.   Fridays point us to the only sure ground we have – the one Name given among men,  to save us:

The paradox is that as we acknowledge our weakness and “cling” to the Cross, we become stronger.    It always works.  It’s always worked throughout the last two thousand years.    As individuals we are not alone at the foot of the Cross, and we find firm ground there.  we find the  Rock,   not shifting sand, not sliding rocks.

That’s a much better way to face the problems of the world.

Christ is the Light of the world;   the King of the world;   the Light and Wisdom of our minds;   the Savior of our souls;  the sure Foundation that never fails.

Even as the world is sliding down on the broken rocks.

 

 

 

CROSSING THE BAR

Well, it’s Friday today. . . .with a different sort of posting:

First Friday in Lent, actually, so it’s appropriate, and right, and proper to think of death.    I’ve had quite a lot of it recently.   Not just the almost 300 souls who are missing,  now,  in the Malaysian airplane.   Not just Hubbie, whose death seems so “recent” and all the attendant questions play over and over in my mind.

There was a young mother this week,  four children,  who came down with “flu-like symptoms” and went into kidney failure. . . and died,.     And there is a friend of this family, a good young lady, whom I love very  much, who was also recovering from a “flu”  and was admitted to the hospital this week for kidney failure….and whatever else.   She is still with us.

“Crossing the Bar” –

I came across that rather shabby sheet music at a used store one day.   I do love these old, old songs that once were played in the parlor, for the whole family to enjoy and perhaps sing along.   The lyrics caught my attention, and without realizing how meaningful they could some day be to me,  I purchased the sheet music.

So, in general,  I know we are supposed to live as if we’re going to die some day.   We are to live as though we will be on our death bed some day, thinking . . . .     It’s hard to come to terms with that idea, but there are those who have thought about it, have “crossed to the other side,”  and have left behind their thoughts for us.   We’re not alone, really.

Here are the lyrics, for those of you who have ever  thought of your own dying:

 Sunset and evening star,

      And one clear call for me!

And may there be no moaning of the bar,

      When I put out to sea,

   But such a tide as moving seems asleep,

      Too full for sound and foam,

When that which drew from out the boundless deep

      Turns again home.

   Twilight and evening bell,

      And after that the dark!

And may there be no sadness of farewell,

      When I embark;

   For tho’ from out our bourne of Time and Place

      The flood may bear me far,

I hope to see my Pilot face to face

      When I have crost the bar.

You don’t need to live by the seaside among  tides and moaning sandbars  to get the general idea.    The words are actually a poem written by Alfred, Lord Tennyson.    It was a popular poem to memorize and to recite, long ago,  when people entertained each other.

I don’t know what Tennyson’s faith was,  but he did know about the “Pilot”  who will be waiting for us when we, too, cross that great sandbar, over which there is no turning back from our journey into the deep black abyss of death.

And it’s through the Abyss of Death that those who follow Jesus Christ will follow in His footsteps, to His place, where we have no right to be because we are  sons and daughters of Adam’s fallen race.

But this Christ, this Son of God became Son of Adam….  and “paid for”  our right to follow Him all the way,  crossing the bar, into His home.

Sunset and evening star  . .  . And one clear call for me! 

  Therefore as by the offence of one judgment came upon all men to condemnation; even so by the righteousness of One the free gift came upon all men unto justification of life.   (St. Paul, the book of Romans,  teaching us the theological reasons for Christian hope.)

No real fear for what’s on the other side.   He did it first.    And that’s what Christendom thinks about, on  Fridays.

FRIDAY: CHRISTMAS, CROSS, AND COLISEUM

What is The Spruce Tunnel all about?  Truly, we lurch from food, family, and fun to serious matters of society and of the human soul.   Read again, to the right:    it says “random observations.”

 The Long-Awaited One:

Today,  this Friday,  happens to be the Eve of the Purification,  that day when the last of the events of the Christmas season is remembered.   It’s been Forty Days since the birth of Jesus,  Forty Days since the Mother gave birth.    She comes, now, to the Temple on this 40th day to present herself to God, to give a small sacrifice of thanksgiving, and to resume her everyday life.

As we leave the Christmas season, it’s a good time to remind ourselves of the serious, adult understanding of the purpose of Christmas.

This “Holy Infant, so tender and mild” grew up to teach us His way,  the Way of the Cross;  to “take up our cross and follow Him.”    Since He is not of this world,  the world will not like Him very much,  nor will the world like His disciples.   The world gave Him his Cross, and there is one for all who follow Him.

Human Rights Watch regularly, frequently reports attacks against Christians because they are Christians, occurring around the world, on every continent.    One example comes from a particular Sunni group in Nigeria which:
“…..specifically targeted Christians, including bombings of churches. There have  previously been instances of victims having their throats slit in  attacks.

“During a Christmas Eve service last week, (2012)   gunmen attacked a 
church in northeastern Yobe state, killing six people, including the pastor,
before setting the building ablaze.” 

According to  The BBC report,  “15 killed” . . . .

There are groups which can keep you informed.   The Human Rights Group is one;  Voice of the Martyrs is another good place to check out.

Is there a great outcry from around the world over deadly Christian persecution?   There can’t be; there couldn’t be.   The system of the world,  the culture of the World,  the society of the World, the kingship of this World gave to its Savior His Cross.

It has always been that way, because this World belongs to another, and only a few will be ransomed out of this World.

Today happens to be the feast day of St. Ignatius of Antioch, bishop,  martyred under Imperial Roman rule, at the Coliseum.   On his way to Rome, he knew what his cross was going to be.   His biggest fear was that his beloved friends would somehow find a way to intercede for him and prevent his execution.

He knew that his cross would become his crown in the next world.   He had chosen the Way of the Cross, not the way of this world.

Choose the good, the lasting way,  the Way that leads you home to the One who loves you best.  It started at Christmas,  then it offers us our cross and our crown.

TAP, TAP, TAP, AND TAP

Have you ever seen the Sign of the Cross made sloppily?   Made with too much familiarity?   “In the name of the Tap, Tap, Tap, and Tap.”   I read today a beautiful scene about making the Sign of the Cross from a historical event, mid-19th century, about 1858,  in France.   I’ll copy that little portion later here, below.

But right now I want to elevate  the “Tap, Tap, Tap, and Tap” to the level of the actual reality of this gesture which is a  bridge between our everyday lives in this material world and the true reality of our lives in the eternal heavenly realm.

Those who like to debate and argue and present their own points of view seldom have room in their hearts to humbly hear what simple  Christians are saying.  The “Talking Heads” of our day usually have hard and empty hearts.  And willingly so.   They have “hardened”  their own hearts.

 

 

Lengthy discussions do not usually bridge the gap to the reality of a man’s condition. 

St. Paul, very well-educated, able to debate with the philosophers in the Agora near Mars Hill in Athens,  discovered this same thing:  that obvious knowledge, sound arguments, logical presentations do not often win men to Christ.

He left Athens and moved on to Corinth, where he was able to think about the cold reception he had just received in Athens.  He had an insight, then.   He formulated a plan and it proved to be successful for bringing the reality of Christ’s Redemption to men who are needy in their unredeemed condition.

St. Paul knew Who had made the first “Sign of the Cross”

We find his words in I Corinthians 2:2 –  For I determined not to know anything among you, except Jesus Christ, and him crucified.   “Among you” –  i.e., you guys,  you Corinthians, and everyone else from now on.

 He taught the preeminence of the cross of Christ….foundational to the Christian message,  foundational to our Redemption, our Salvation, our relationship with our Crucified Lord   And the followers of Christ then and now physically, visibly have made the sign of the cross on themselves, on each other, on the things around them to affirm that primary Act of Justice, Mercy, and Love for the human race.

 

From the first centuries of Christianity the Sign of the Cross was an affirmation of their faith in Christ.

In the 200s AD,  the 3rd century,  Tertullian bears witness to this common Christian gesture.  He  tells us that Christians made the Sign of the Cross upon rising, as they were dressing, upon entering or leaving their houses, going to the bath, sitting down at table, and in fact before taking any significant action.

 

 

The Sign of the Cross is a statement of faith:

Thus, the Sign of the Cross is more than an action. It is a statement of faith in the Father, and in the Son, and in the Holy Spirit.  It is followed it by “Amen,” which means, “Yes, it’s true!” I would stake my whole being, my whole life upon Christ who died on the Cross!

So here is the beautiful scene I read in a book * tonight:

(In the presence of the beautiful lady standing before her, ineffably beautiful in snowy-white robe and lovely blue sash) Bernadette is about to cross herself.  She cannot.   Her arm hangs down heavily and lame like an alien burden.  She cannot stir a finger. . . .Her powerlessness to lift her arm seems to have a special reason. 

And, in fact, the lady standing before her in the niche does now raise her hand with  its beautiful, fragile fingers slowly, almost instructively,  and over her entire countenance makes a great, almost gleaming sign of the cross such that Bernadette had never seen a human being make.   And that sign seems to remain floating in the air.  

At the same time the lady’s face grows very serious, and this very seriousness is another wave sent out by that loveliness  which leaves the beholder breathless.   Always hitherto Bernadette, like everybody else, merely tapped forehead and chest carelessly when making the sign of the cross.  

Now she feels a mild power grasping her hand.   As one takes the hand of a child and guides it when one teaches a child how to write, even so that mild power guides Bernadette’s cold  hand to make that great and inexpressibly  noble sign of the cross upon her forehead.

And now the lady nods and smiles again as though a thing both important and very precious has been accomplished. . . .

For the rest of her life,  Bernadette Soubirous was known for making the Sign of the Cross, so sublime and beautiful that it seemed like a great witness to the Infinite Love and Mercy shown to us on that Cross one day, long ago.   And her gesture made many stop and think. . . .

_________________________________

*  The Song of Bernadette by Franz Werfel, a Jew in 194o,  taking refuge from Hitler’s armies in France

SHOCKING TRUTHS FOR FRIDAY

It’s been quite a Friday so far.     Flags at half-staff,  moments of silence, decent Americans with  their Rulers bearing down on them;  sorrow in our hearts, dealing with a horrible crime of the untreated mentally ill and  his innocent victims, and knowledge of another victimized, dysfunctional family…which we dare not explore.

The media has whipped us up into a mindless emotional blob symbolized by teddy bears given to dead children and our Rulers probably hope that that is as far as we will go.   But there are more things to see,  more things to understand,  and due to the spider bots that roam our computers,  I will use some pictures for  a serious matter “behind the green curtain.”     (You do understand that The Wizard of Oz is not for little children, don’t you?)

  This is Friday.   Friday is the day when Christendom remembers the Cross and why it had to happen,  and why it was planned before the dawn of time as the only cure for humanity’s  woes.

Let the great prophet  Isaiah explain our woes to us:

He says that when a “land” turns away from God,  God will take away from the land:  “the strong man, and the man of war, the judge, and the prophet, and the cunning man, and the ancient;  the captain over fifty, and the honourable in countenance, and the counsellor, and the architect, and the skillful in eloquent speech.”

And instead,  God will  …..”give children to be their princes, and the effeminate shall rule over them.  And the people shall rush one upon another, and every man against his neighbour: the child shall make a tumult against the ancient, and the base against the honourable.”   ( Isaiah 3: 2-5)

If we continue to act like spoiled, self-indulgent children, Isaiah is saying, then the “grown-ups”  will be taken away from our leadership.   We won’t want mature, experienced leaders to govern us.

We will want to keep the illusion of being a “rich” country, proud of what we’ve accomplished and what we can give to ourselves:

Their land is filled with silver and gold: and there is no end of their treasures.

And their land is filled with horses: and their chariots are innumerable. Their land also is full of idols: they have adored the work of their own hands, which their own fingers have made.  And man hath bowed himself down, and man hath been debased: therefore forgive them not.     ( Isaiah 2: 7-9)  

So that is a general principle, true throughout the ages.    Our leaders will reflect our sinful desires.    We have willingly debased ourselves with our prosperity.

So,  what to do?   What would we do if we knew some shocking truths?

Here is just one  shocking detail that ties together  some current events.   Remember Isaiah:   Their land is filled with silver and gold: and there is no end of their treasures.    We are speaking of trillions of stolen money.    But I think we won’t have the national will, anymore,  nor the intelligence, nor the courage to demand action.

Two young men;  two fathers:

 

Just one word to know.

I’m not sure which is more shocking:    the murderous crime of a deranged young man?     the monumental extent of a world-wide banking scandal that keeps our Rulers in power?     the power of the world Rulers to destroy lives?   or the depths of the sin  our society has fallen into?

. . .or that God has provided a way for Fallen Mankind,  the Way of the Cross. . . .

Friday is a day for “shocking truths.”      That is why Christendom mourns on Friday for sins, and fasts,  abstains from meat, and meditates deeply on the shockingly glorious Remedy.     Look into the money scandal?    Or maybe better just look into the meaning of the Cross.

THE NIGHT BEFORE – PART II

Apres-Concert

This whole rock concert going thing is new to me;  apparently it is important to have an apres-concert experience too.

The concert (of the last posting)  ended early enough in the evening,  and it was time for my companion and I to find some Food.  We walked the city streets for a long, long time, but every small bar, tavern, bistro, and restaurant had waiting lines of an hour or two and we knew we couldn’t hold out that long!

We returned to our parking garage, and were cheerfully told by the man in the car next to us that we “weren’t going to be going anywhere soon.”     The cars in the aisle that were lined up, pointing downwards towards the Exit signs,   had not moved for a long time.   Everyone in the lower levels were probably letting cars into the line, thereby causing a logjam in the upper levels.

“You’re not trapped if you have a cell phone”

Rather than giving in to feeling trapped,  I spent the next twenty minutes on the cement floor, propped up against the wall,  happily organizing my photos, sending them to my home computer, and texting a few people, until I realized someone might be wondering why that “old lady had collapsed on the floor of the parking garage.”    I was distinctly afraid that someone might call 911 on me.

Since we couldn’t eat in the more glamorous district of the city,  we headed out for its well-known busy, crowded, overly-commercialized, corporate chain-store “miracle mile” — hoping to find a non-corporate restaurant.

We were eventually rewarded with a real gem:  “Arnie’s Bakery.”      Now, Arnie is a familiar Scandinavian name.  My family has  friends and relatives named Arnie.   And this place said it was more than just a bakery.

Being Friday,  my friend chose a Swedish salmon wrap,  which arrived on a huge dinner plate, Viking size portions,    accompanied by a tall stack of their specialty onion rings in the photo there.

I was still a little addled by the rock concert and chose a Swedish codfish taco, even though the words “Swedish”  and “taco”  aren’t normally paired together.  Tasted way better than it sounded.

We had desserts from the bakery, compliments of the house, and we brought more bakery home with us, enjoying our second round of desserts.  Triple chocolate torte, anyone?    An hour later we finished the night  with a smooth steaming cup of Scandinavian Hassel Noet  coffee.   Not quite a wise choice for that time of night,  but by 3:00 a.m. I was comfortably in  my own bed.

I’m still a bit off schedule, but life goes on…and it’s no longer “the morning after the night before.”

 

FRIDAY’S FLINT FACE

Today’s experience reminds me that my life isn’t quite as “important” as I thought it was.   I had prepared well for this morning’s class;  it was the first time I’ve been out of the house all week and I had had a lot of time to think about the lesson.  One of the verses we would study uses the word “flint.”

Great!   I remembered that when my children were, well, “children,”  they came indoors one day with a grayish sort of rock, several inches in length, telling me they had found some “flint” outdoors in the yard.  I had thought, how would they know?    But they brought in some other rock, I think, and made us all go down into the basement, struck the flint, and sure enough,  little sparks flew off.

How interesting!   I’m not sure if I was more impressed with the flint or with my kids who could recognize flint lying around outside.

So of course I needed to find this rock and take it in to class today for an Object Lesson.

No deal.

After all,  that little incident was a few decades ago.   It’s likely that I saved that flint rock somewhere;  it’s not likely that I’d actually find it.    (Who took the flint!!??)

I talked it over with my son, the pharmacist, and together, with his “chemistry” training,  we decided a Bic lighter does indeed use flint, and a broken Bic lighter would be an ideal way to reveal the flint for my class.

I could find one of those.   Don’t ask.   We don’t smoke.  I don’t know where it came from.

So this morning, with a notebook full of carefully hand-written notes,  the Bible with the “right” translation, and my perfectly broken Bic, I was all ready to lead our little class into a study of the Flint Face…

Only when I got to class, I arrived empty handed.    I had left everything at home.    I suppose I was fussing about my sore throat and taking the right hot liquid with me…etc., etc.,.. I just forgot the rest.

And that’s when the “teacher” began to learn the biggest lesson today.    A lifetime of experience,  of accumulation,  of preparation, of careful planning….all that turned out to be not needed.    Not so important after all.

Here is the verse that was included in our lesson:   (Isaias 50: 5, 6, 7) –  “The Lord God  has opened my ear and I do not resist.  I have not turned back.    I gave my back to those who beat Me;  I gave my cheeks to those who plucked my beard.   I have not turned my face away from buffets and spitting.   The Lord GOd is my Helper; therefore I will not be disgraced.   I have set my face as flint,  knowing that I shall not be put to shame.”

These words,    of course,  are the words to be spoken by the Messiah, when He comes,  spoken throught he prophetic words of Isaias.   We talked about most of these words, but especially the meaning of “setting ones face as flint.”

Flint is hard.   Stone-face.  Unresponding, uncomplaining.  But more so,  flint makes itself useful when it is struck, and struck hard.

The thought of the beautiful and loving face of Our Savior being struck was a difficult one.   It was a most difficult lesson altogether, but it was one that unfolded itself to our thoughts and questions, word by word,  as we needed it.  The words carried us along.

The notes, the book, the Bic with its “real” flint that were all left behind this morning seemed as nothing, compared to what we were actually all reading and learning together this morning.

It’s Friday, now,   when we customarily meditate on the Wounds of Christ, the beatings, the punches, the cords, the pulling of the beard, the spitting, and then the Wounds of the Crucifxion that He willingly went towards.   And this Friday, this day, we look to the next few days called Holy Week,  when all this really happened, a couple thousand years ago.

My best plans are not as important as my present experience with the Crucified One, unfolding, day be day, as I need it.

(I-80 – CA) MELTED JELLY

DAY 5 of the snow shoveling……Melted jelly … formerly known as my muscles…..

 

I think I’m mostly done with the shoveling.

That gigantic 15′ x 10′ deck is four-fifths clear of snow.   Today when I was shoveling down that snow drift  (actually it was a snow drift on top of a snow drift),   I was dressed in those new heavy duty serious mountain snow boots, heavy pants and — short sleeves!   That hot, bright sun was bearing down on everything.     I understand that being 6,000 feet closer to the sun shouldn’t make the sun feel any different from home.

But I fail to understand why I was out shoveling SNOW when I was working up a sweat in BARE ARMS.

I’m going to let the sun duke it out with what’s left of that snow drift.

I have no more strength in my arms and legs.    I have other things to write about.

 

 

REMEMBERING FRIDAYS

I used to be quite good at remembering that it was Friday, and remembering what Fridays are for;  that is, Fridays are for remembering what happened on a Friday, long ago, the one we call Good Friday.

Today, in my morning class, we were bringing to a close our long study of the Parables;  it’s been a good study, fun and interesting, challenging and informative.    We ended with the parables of judgment and signs of the times, but at the very end today we wound around back to the Good Shepherd. 

Strictly speaking, the Good Shepherd is not a parable, but it appears on several modern lists of “parables,”   modern minds  being not too specific about the meaning of words…

Nevertheless,  it seemed like a good place to end our study.  

On the way home, the image of the Good Shepherd was lingering with me, and some verses from the Gospel of John in particular stuck out…  And then I thought,  I wonder if we ever thought about the Good Shepherd from God the Father’s point of view!

 

So here’s the verses:    “I am the good shepherd;     the good shepherd gives his life for his sheep…..Therefore does the Father love me, because I lay down my life, that I may take it up again…”   (John 10:11, 17)

I like that.   He came to do what He was sent here to do.    In Him, the Father is well-pleased.   He lays down His life for us, His sheep.

If God is pleased, all is well.

 

AN ERA OF FRIDAYS

Perhaps we have entered an Era in which meditations on the death of Christ is most appropriate, most meaningful, and most helpful.

Perhaps it’s time to obey the gentle and wise words of Jesus:  “Take up your cross and follow me.”    

Our Fridays could be in honor of  His  Good Friday.    Each of the events  of that day could be instructive for us, if we learn about them, think about them, and draw lessons from them.     “Take up your cross” —    Take on the seriousness of the Cross.      Take on the responsiblity for that Cross.   Look inward.  Look around.   Repent.   Repair.   Pray.  

“Take up your cross” —   Jesus must have had a reason for telling us to do that.

There are routine traditions that help us with that, help us to begin our thinking.    There are traditional prayers for Friday.   There is the traditional abstaining from flesh (meat).    And during Lent, there are the traditional Fish Fries:

That’s my hand, with the little ink tattoo that proves I paid for my meal tonight.    I never looked at the design closely before.   It’s little fish and little fish bubbles.   Cute.   

Tonight’s Fish Fry was a happy affair with good friends, two of whom we were treating as a kind of Welcome to the Area, because of their recent move into our neighborhood.     Fish Fries like this are a good thing.

But I don’t think it’s quite what Jesus meant:  “Take up your cross.”      And I was thinking about that when I looked at my “cute little fish” tattoo.    Because, see, I’ve just been reading about some creatures of our oceans.    They’re not “fish,” really, but they got me thinking about what I said in the last posting…..I think we’ve done something that we don’t know how to un-do….

This is our reality too.   These babies are dead, bleeding from the inside, their organs dissolved and diseased by the chemicals that were put into the ocean in such great amounts that they and other species of mammals, fish, and even humans are now dead and dying.   The government has forbidden news reporters to write about the many thousands of dead baby dolphins that lie about on the Gulf shores.   Some thing big has happened.

I just can’t keep my mind on the “cute little fish” on my hand.     I have a Cross to pick up and to help bear…..

But there are so many other reasons….

Cleveland Clinic Crosses

There weren’t any.

It’s Friday today, and although we are still “newly home” from our Cleveland trip, I’ve found time to think…a little bit.    Friday kind of thoughts.   Calvary.    The Cross.

The only crosses seen in the entire Clinic at Cleveland were the kind people wore.    There were a few of those.

Italy has just banned all crucifixes from public places;   again, I think.    It’s a trend, because anti-Christians are in positions of power all over the world.  

Here is the “waiting room” areas of the Clinic’s Heart Department:

There are little alcoves all the way down that long curved hallway, and there might be a hundred or more patients waiting at any given time, discreetly, semi-privately.  But you can see them as you walk by;  and then six or seven or eight times, Hubbie and I were among the wait-ers.

Remember Princess Leia’s desperate request?   “Help me, Obi-Wan-Kenobi — You’re are only help!!

A hundred or more patients waiting there, needing the help of the doctors, some of them in desperate need.   Human lives are so short, and eventually we’ll seek an Obi-Wan-Kenobi to extend our lives….all the while knowing that one day there’ll be nothing anyone can do.   

The Christ Who died on the Cross, experiencing death as we will some day, was the first to rise from the dead — and this is “our only hope.”       The Only Death that makes Peace with GOd for us.   The Only Resurrection that opened the door for us, to the next world.

That’s what I was thinking about as I waited on those comfortable black chairs in the alcoves that line the hallways of the Cleveland Clinic;  the hallways with the bare walls that had nothing to remind the poor, sick people of Their Only Hope, after the doctors are done.

FOOD FROM THE “FAR NORTH”

Yummmm!

What a surprisingly superlative Road Trip we had in every way.  And one of those ways was Food!        Exhibit A, above.      Whitefish.   Smoked whitefish.   Inside, the flesh was creamy with a fine flavoring from the smoking.    Lake Superior whitefish is wonderful as it is,  but there’s a little tiny store along the lake shore that knows how to smoke it just right.

I start out with a knife and fork;   I soon toss the knife and dig in with the fork.  And it’s not long before that fork gets in the way and I find myself digging in with my fingers — much like I imagine my ancestors would have done….10,000 years ago!     Barbarian that I am. 

I asked our son if he’d like us to bring him back anything from the Far North, and fortunately he requested some jerky, which we usually get from this very store that sells the smoked fish.     He’ll get his jerky soon, and a little tiny piece of the whitefish.   

But the longer I wait, the tinier it’s getting.

Heh  heh.

DRAW NIGH. . .

Two Fridays today….

…Draw near to the Cross.

“Draw nigh to the Lord and He will draw nigh to you….”    (James 4:8a)

It’s Ember Friday, as well.    We observe the change of season from summer to autumn, acknowledging  our dependence on God, and marking the day with “severe penance,”  abstinence, almsgiving (good time to send in those donations you meant to give….), and good works.

THE LOVE OF GOD – IN ARCHEOLOGY

It’s Friday today.     Normally I would post some kind of picture of the cross to visually remind myself why we pause on Fridays to think of our Redemption.    But I won’t do that today.    While searching my files for gruesome archeological photos like the one I used in the last posting,   I came across another one  that seems appropriate for a Friday.

The morning class was studying James today,  somewhere around the middle of chapter 4.      After reprimanding some of the Christians for their behavior towards one another, James then tells them that once they understand what they’ve done wrong it’s appropriate to feel remorse; to feel so sorry sometimes that they are brought to tears.    The Son of God Who loves them came here to die for just those kinds of things that they had been doing wrong:

James 4:8a, 9 –  “Draw night to God and He will draw nigh to you….Be afflicted, and mourn, and weep: let your laughter be turned into mourning, and your joy into sorrow.”

The photo seems obvious, once you identify what it is.    It’s a  human ankle bone, with a large spike driven through it.   It’s dated  approximately a couple thousand years old.    Crucifixions are an actual form of execution, from several  hundred years B.C. up to the present day.   

But never could we have imagined that the Good God of Love and Light and Supreme Holiness would have willingly come to earth to subject Himself to this most cruel of human deaths.      

“Draw near to God….”       Draw near to the Cross….

It’s a sign of God’s tender mercy for us, arising from his Eternal Love.

DAILY FRIDAY

There is a regularity to our lives, marked by the turning of the days, the months, the seasons.    Didn’t think I’d have anything new to “think about” today, but since it’s Friday, I set my mind to the task and watched what it might come up with.

The “idea” of the Crucifixion has existed in all eternity.      That particular One occurred on a Friday, and we will always have Fridays  with us until the day we die.    The Pain and Joy of that Crucifixion is always with us too, giving meaning to our own personal pain and joy – provided we deliberately connect ourselves with it.

Today, in Florida there is a family in pain;  much prayed for.    Their peaceful family life has been in rubble for a time, and now it seems that the prayers are being answered, but not without a stirring up of that painful rubble.     It may get worse for a while.

Many more prayers are needed on my part, but I know Our Dear Lord has power and compassion to act  because he  genuinely, actually understands this kind of pain.   

Fridays are always with us, sometimes daily.   It’s good to remember this every week.

Thanks, my mind.

NO OTHER WAY

(Just to remind myself)   There’s a reason for this –

Peace with God.    Hope.    Joy forever.      

Good Friday achieved it.

In all the long eons of time, no human being or human system has ever devised another way. 

There was no other way.

No other way.

Deo gratias.

JESUS WAS ‘BUSY’ TODAY

Using a common (colloquial) phrase, Jesus was “busy” today, 2,000 years ago, and every Friday is like a little formal acknowledgment of it.    It’s something we’re not supposed to let go of, and our weekly remembrance of Good Friday thanks Him and honors Him for what He was doing.

“Being busy at something.”   When I hear someone say that, I know they are doing something that is important to them.   They have chosen something to do that defines themselves at the time….   It may be housework, taking care of your children, going off to work, fixing something,  busy reading a book, or busy praying.

The word “busy” just seems to imply that a person is occupied for the moment with something that he has judged to be more important than any other activity – for that moment.

Jesus, in Jerusalem, once said:  “Don’t you know I must be about my Father’s business?”      The realization of just what this “business” is was like a blade that pierced the heart of His mother, Mary.    The blade was a sorrow;  and the sorrow would be fully manifested on Good Friday, when there was much to do.