To My Mother

by Wendell Berry

I was your rebellious son,

do you remember?  Sometimes

I wonder if you do remember,

so complete has your forgiveness been.

So complete has your forgiveness been

I wonder sometimes if it did not

precede my wrong, and I erred,

safe found, within your love,

prepared ahead of me, the way home,

or my bed at night, so that almost

I should forgive you, who perhaps

foresaw the worst that I might do,

and forgave before I could act,

causing me to smile now, looking back,

to see how paltry was my worst,

compared to your forgiveness of it

already given.  And this, then,

is the vision of that Heaven of which

we have heard, where those who love

each other have forgiven each other,

where, for that, the leaves are green,

the light a music in the air,

and all is unentangled,

and all is undismayed

On the Community of God's people

Nothing is sweet or easy about community. Community is a fellowship of people who do not hide their joys and sorrows but make them visible to each other in a gesture of hope. In community we say: ‘Life is full of gains and losses, joys and sorrows, ups and downs—but we do not have to live alone.’ We want to drink our cup together and thus celebrate that the wounds of our individual lives, which seem intolerable when lived alone, become sources of healing when we live them as part of a fellowship of mutual care.  

- Henri Nouwen, Can You Drink the Cup?

Nothing so astonishes a fractured world as a community in which radical, faithful, genuine love is shared among its members.  There are many places you can go to find communities of shared interest. There are many places you can go to find people just like yourself, who live for sports or music or gardening or politics.  But it is the mandate of the church to become a community of love, a circle of Christ’s followers who invest in one another because Christ has invested in them, who exhibit love not based on the mutuality and attractiveness of its members, but on the model of Christ, who washed the feet of everyone, including Judas.

- Gary Burge, NIV Application Commentary

Are you a trader?

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Getting Some Rest

We read in Genesis 2.1-3...

Thus the heavens and the earth were finished, and all the host of them.  And on the seventh day God finished his work that he had done, and he rested on the seventh day from all his work that he had done.  So God blessed the seventh day and made it holy, because on it God rested from all his work that he had done in creation.

God completes his great work of Creation and then He rests.  He didn’t rest because He was tired; He rested because He was finished creating and so He could now simply enjoy what He had made.  The rest that God takes on the 7^th day becomes the basis for Israel resting (Israel’s Sabbath) and it’s a rhythm (6 days of work, 1 day of rest) that all God's people do well to find and settle into. 

What does Sabbath rest do?  (note: As I'm pretty sure no one reads this, I'm writing this as encouragement for myself; if anyone else stumbles across it, I hope it helps you too.)  Let me ask the question (for myself) again:  What does Sabbath rest do?  At least 3 things: 

1) It reminds us that that God completes His work.  As he consummated His work of creation, He will bring to perfection his work in history.  He will not fail.  We can rest in that.

2) Knowing that God completes His work, we can cease from our “doing” - 1 day in 7 - and trust that the wheels won’t fall off our lives.   God is in control.  The world is safe in His hands and will not disintegrate if we stop our work. 

3) Finally, it reminds us of the great rest available in Jesus; a rest we can enter into now.  

It's interesting that on the seventh day, we don't read and there was evening and there was morning, the seventh day.  Why is that familiar phrase missing?  I believe it’s because this day never ends.  God’s rest is ongoing.  His work of Creation is complete.  And because of that, the Day of Rest goes on forever!

It is a gift from the Son of God for all who come to him.  I need to daily hear him say to me...

Come to me, you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. 

Good Poems

Over the summer I picked up a book called Good Poems.  Garrison Keillor of A Prairie Home Companion fame also has a radio program called The Writer's Almanac.  This book is a selection of poems that he featured on that lesser-known show. 

Now I didn't grow up reading poetry.  Actually, I didn't grow up reading much of anything.  But in later life, I've really come to appreciate good writing.  And that includes good poems.  If a novice such as myself can have favorites, then mine are Emily Dickinson and Wendell Berry.  Berry is not only a poet, he's a farmer.  His connection with the earth is refreshing and informs his work.  Take, The Peace of Wild Things, for example. 

   When despair for the world grows in me
   and I wake in the night at the least sound
   in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be,
   I go and lie down where the wood drake
   rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
   I come into the peace of wild things
   who do not tax their lives with forethought
   of grief.  I come into the presence of still water.
   And I feel above me the day-blind stars
   waiting with their light.  For a time
   I rest in the grace of the world, and am free. 

Beautiful, isn't it.  He could've just said, "Hey, if you have lots of stress in your life, go out in nature for a while."  But that's just good advice, not a good poem.  I love the bio that Keillor includes on this poet-farmer: 

Wendell Berry (1934, Newcastle, KY) is a poet, essayist, novelist, farmer (near Port Royal, KY), environmentalist.  Breathe with unconditioned breath, the unconditioned air.  Shun electric wire.  Communicate slowly.  Live a three-dimensioned life; stay away from screens. 

Do yourself a favor (note: since I'm not aware of anyone else reading my blog, I am mainly talking to myself here) and read some good poems.

A Haiku for my V Double-U

loud, air-cooled, bug-like

thirty miles to the gallon

she is my sweetheart 

Taking a Drive

I love to take a drive.  I don't mind the everyday driving to get to work or drop the kids off at school or run errands.  But what I'm talking about is getting in the car, with no particular place to go or people to see, and driving for driving's sake.  "Taking a drive" is the equivalent of really enjoying a meal.  Most of the time I shove food in my pie hole while I'm reading or typing or doing everyday driving.  But sometimes, usually on a date with my wife, I will enjoy a meal.  I'll eat more slowly.  I'll savor the texture and taste of each bite.  I might even look at it and smell it before it goes into my mouth.  Novel idea, I know.  When you apply that to driving, it makes for a whole different experience.

I typically "take a drive" first thing on Mondays or late at night.  If I have time, I'll drive from Long Beach to San Pedro.  That's probably my favorite drive.  I'll take Ocean Boulevard West across the smaller, lesser-known Gerald Desmond Bridge, and then it's the larger, greater-known Vincent Thomas Bridge.  The one that makes you feel like you're in San Francisco, if only for a minute.  South on Gaffey Street, all the way to Point Fermin Park.  Take a right (just before the park) on Paseo Del Mar and head toward Rancho Palos Verdes.  It's a beautiful drive.  You can take in the ocean, pass through downtown, appreciate the port, visit another city, and be home in about an hour and a half.  I mention this because I love to take a drive and you talk about what you love. 

By the way, there are about a bizillion (it's a number) coffee shops on this particular route.  Which leads me to my next post, "For Coffee's Sake."  More on that later.  I gotta drive the kids to school.