October Musings

Dear friends,

Don't miss October.  With all the distractions and vicissitudes of life, please don't miss it.  I asked the Great One not to let ME miss it.  This little ditty combines some of my childhood memories and my current observations.  Hope it makes you smell the dry leaves and feel the nippy wind.  Get outside!  Embrace it before it's gone...

 Sweet October

In October I am five, crunching cross' the sidewalks

Pulling up my itchy, wrinkled tights

Mary janes are scuffed from skipping round and round the block

Spitting out the skins from apple bites

In October I love wind, blowing way' my sorrow

Pumpkins smile despite their pending doom

Library smells of chestnuts and the books I'll borrow

Swoosh of leaves succumbing to the broom

In October strength is givn' for November's losses

Hearts can store up all that's warm and gold

The axis of the Earth is daylight's restless posse

Chlorophyll's auctioneer barks finally "Sold!"

In October tea tastes better, pies' a wonder

Perfection's found in street boys' football spirals

Brides and grooms forbid to ever "put asunder"

Microbes fear the latest anti virals

Hear October! I am grown, but still I crunch

Cross' the sidewalk, through the spunky breeze

In the sorrows, in the sweetness, in the autumn

My hope clings brilliant, like the maple trees

Your friend on the pilgrim road,

Loriann

Places vs. Things

Dear friends,

I’ve always said if I struck it rich (as Jeeves would say “the contingency is a remote one, sir”), I would love to travel extensively.  I’m not the least bit interested in owning a big house, driving a fancy car, or wearing designer clothes.  It’s not that I’m ultra humble, or that I don’t like nice things, but I’m pretty content with the “stuff” of my life.  Sometimes I walk around my house in utter astonishment muttering “thank you Jesus, for my palace!”  I recognize the obvious disparity between my possessions and those of ninety percent of the world.  On my best days I’m practically overwhelmed with gratitude. 

No, what I covet on my worst days and dream of on my better ones is to see the places that decorate this blue ball in the universe.  Mind you, I’ve been blessed with more travel than the average Joe.  Back in my career days with Reading Rainbow I traversed the big 48, and even spent a month in Hawaii.  I wondered at the waterfowl and complex ecosystem of the mighty Chesapeake Bay.  I watched in awe as millions of bats left their guano laden cave at dusk to consume billions of mosquitos somewhere near the Mexican border.  I hiked the Highline Trail in Glacier National Park Montana on the 4^th of July and stood face to face with a papa big horn sheep and his harem.  I cried overlooking a vast chasm on the way from Estes Park, Colorado to Aspen.  I’ve met interesting people, from a model train expert in New Jersey to the pig wrastlers at the Pomona County Fair in California.  I stood on the eye of the Statue of Liberty while it was being restored back in the 1980’s. 

Places have personalities.  Much like people, you have to get to know them a little bit to find out the lovely things about them.  Some wow you immediately, some grow on you, and some just aren’t your kind of ice cream.  But I sure would love to try a few more flavors.

For example, I want to visit Dulwich College in England where Ernest Shackleton’s 23 foot whaler, the James Caird is on display.  (That open wooden boat travelled 800 miles in the Arctic Sea and was a vital tool in the rescue of Shackleton’s men from their ordeal near the frozen South Pole – but that’s another story).  In all my travels I still haven’t seen the Grand Canyon.  More than anything, I want to set my feet in the Holy City of Jerusalem.  That, my friends, is one piece of real estate lots of people seem to want to get their hands on…

Alas, I haven’t struck it rich, and right about now with 3 teenagers in the house and the ongoing recovery from a wildly perilous car accident, I won’t be trompsing about in my wayfaring boots anytime soon. 

There is one place that captures my heart more than any other.  That place is heaven.  Some of my my most dearly held secrets contain my thoughts about that celestial homeland.  Our ancient father Abraham’s feelings about that promised land mirror my own: “For he was looking forward to the city with foundations, whose architect and builder is God.”  Hebrews 11:10  The appeal of heaven is hard to overstate.  John the Revelator tries to use human language to describe something that defies words. Images foreign to our 21^st century imaginations seem weird.  Some folks would have you believe that heaven is not really a place, but a state of mind.  I don’t buy that one.  Rivers, cities, streets…these are all the stuff of places.  No, it will be a real, solid, substantive whereabouts alright.  This world will seem like the wispy shadow land.  That place will team with life and love and freedom. (For a great fictional story about the “realness” of heaven, try C.S. Lewis’ The Great Divorce).

In the long run, it’s places I prefer to things.  But honestly, I couldn’t care less if heaven were a barn.   The appeal of heaven is my Jesus.  Without Him, it’s not heaven at all.  The most beautiful place in the world is hopelessly boring and sterile without the key ingredient: Relationship.  And eternally speaking, relationship with God is the passport to the wonder and joy of heaven. 

For now, I’m hoping to make this broken place just a wee bit better for some of the other dwellers on this planet.  But when my ticket home comes through, watch out for the woman that’s like a “short, brunette streak of light” (to paraphrase Cary Grant in “Arsenic and Old Lace”).  My pilgrim road days will be over.  My true travellin’ days will have just begun!   

Your friend on the pilgrim road,

Loriann

The Blind Leading the Blind

Can a blind man lead a blind man? Luke 6:39

What a picture that verse stirs up in my mind. 

I have a precious friend who is blind.  She astonishes me regularly with her capacity to do things I would kill myself doing with my eyes closed.  She cooks complete meals, washes dishes, runs on her treadmill, does laundry, and takes outstanding care of her husband who has an acquired brain injury.  (I still have no idea how she toilet trained her two girls...)  Joanne is a joy, a delight and a wonder.  But I wouldn't want her to drive me to the store or lead me through a labyrinth of booby traps.  Without physical eyesight, one is in no position to lead anyone anywhere. 

Of course, Jesus wasn't discussing physical sight in this passage from Dr. Luke's gospel.  Right after what seems like an obvious question, The Savior begins his famous plank/speck sermon.  You remember the gist: Don't judge, don't condemn, forgive and stop trying to take the speck out of your brother's eye when you've got a piece of wood the size of Manhattan in your own.  Pondering this familiar passage, here's what I'm thinking:

I see people every day through the lens of my own sensibilities. Someone claims to be spiritual, yet gathers material wealth in a way I don't like.  Judgement.  I am slighted or hurt by someone, so I label them insensitive or nasty.  Judgement.  Someone is suffering because of their own sin.  I shrug my shoulders.  Judgement.  And while I judge, I feel the darkness close in on myself.  My own failures, sins and folly, far more grievous than the ones I pick at in others, rise up to haunt me.  Perhaps that's what Jesus meant when He said "judge not, lest you be judged..."  He knew the natural result of blind judgement is the weight of our own wreckage.  Oh how beautiful is the sting of the word of God!  It pulls us from our shipwrecked souls into the light of understanding, repentance and mercy! 

The truth is, we are unable to even recognize our own darkness, never mind that we arrogantly try to grasp the vast, unsearchable heart of another human being.  Never mind that we have no idea what sorrows, loads or injuries they bear.  When we judge another man, we are the blind leading the blind, bumping around and getting hurt and hurting others along the way.  What does the Great One say to us in the face of this?

"You hypocrite (ouch), first take the plank out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the SPECK from your brother's eye."  God, it seems, doesn't want anyone blind.  Not from a plank.  Not from a speck.  Once we deal with our own judgemental, self righteous, crummy attitudes, then we can very gently, as you would with a little kid, try to get that annoying piece of dirt out of someone else's eye.  Not to hurt them.  But to help them.  So both can see.  So both can love.  So the blind don't lead the blind. 

I am so very grateful for the continued speech of the living word of God.  When that blind man in me takes to judging, my sweet Jesus takes to correcting.  He takes to healing me, so I can maybe, tenderly, help someone else.  Via the pilgrim road of love...not the blind alley of judgement.

On a lighter note, my cats have become killing machines lately.  The tally of chipmunks, rabbits and moles is rising.  Wish I had a nickle for every carcass in my yard...

Your friend on the pilgrim road,

Loriann

The Spin Parade

Dear friends,

I wasn’t awake but 30 seconds this morning before The Spin Parade began.  Any of you other ragamuffins like me know what I’m talking about.  It was early enough that I didn’t have to get out of bed, but my brain had already taken to the road, with the toxic stress that can kill a person at 3 paces.  All the repairs we need done in our house paraded past me, loading their burden in my cart.  Financial pressures and financial regrets piled on their weight of anxiety.  Relational troubles and the fallout of a life altering traumatic car accident put in their 2 cents.  Worries about the future, worries about my children, worries about what to make for lunch (am I giving you a glimpse of one of my most entrenched strongholds?) pounded hard on the already steep, weighty mountain of have to’s.  Frustration over a not yet won battle with a flea problem, a dirty car, and school shopping looming on the horizon spun a bleak rope around the impossible load, and I could almost hear the laughter of the enemy of my soul.  That did it.  I sat up and got mad, dagnammit! 

Remember the words of the great C.S. Lewis:

"It comes the very moment you wake up each morning. All your wishes and hopes for the day rush at you like wild animals. And the first job each morning consists simply in shoving them all back; in listening to that other voice, taking that other point of view, letting that other larger, stronger, quieter life come flowing in. And so on, all day. Standing back from all your natural fussings and frettings; coming in out of the wind."

Better yet, the words of Jesus of Nazareth, lover of your weary soul:

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.  Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.  For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”  Mt. 11:28-30

I picked up my bible and stopped the madness.  Like a cold glass of water on a hot- as-Hades day, waves of refreshing sanity stopped the Spin Parade.  Then in church I closed my eyes, left all my troubles at the Savior’s feet, and got my footing back.  Peter Johnson’s message reminded me of why I’m a follower of the most loving, compelling “I AM” of the universe…It’s all grace.  He loves me when I’m messed up in the spin, and He rescues me from the spin every time.  This poor sinner is also a beloved child, with a Hero for a Father.  He cares about the most heartbreaking sadness of my life and yours, and He cares about the stupid flea problem.  This Savior is with us here in the mess.  It’s not the religion of the Pharisees; it’s the relationship of Jesus to the poor in spirit. 

One of my most difficult sins to overcome is the spiral of worry.  But the Great One refuses either to berate me or let me off the hook.  In His compassion He is determined to get me to a place of trust while holding me close and putting His hand up to tell the Spin Parade where to get off.  Little by little, He wants to strengthen His ragamuffins to the point where we get in that yoke with Him, where the Spin Parade just passes us by as we walk along with Jesus.  By the power of the person of the Holy Spirit, we weak folks can walk with Him in the cool of the internal day, no matter the twister of circumstance that rages and blows.

Tomorrow morning, when I open my eyes, no doubt the Parade will want to take me for another spin.  By the grace of Christ, who daily bears our load, I will stand back from all my natural fussings and frettings, and come in out of the wind.  If I don’t, He loves me still.  But why spin when you can fly?

Your friend on the pilgrim road,

Loriann

Back to the School of Grace Alone

Dear friends,

I haven’t written here in a while.  Mostly, it is because I have succumbed to shame and brokenness, and can hardly bear to dig in and tell the truth.  You know that feeling you get when you have avoided something for so long it becomes a looming mountain before you?   That has been the case with me.  I have been graciously, as usual, put back in my right mind by my beautiful Savior, and so I take a few halting steps up from the valley of deception into the open air of mercy.  I will, in all my powerlessness, rise.  As the great apostle said “I will stand, for He is able to make me stand”. 

I have greatly erred.  I have left behind the absolute precious mercy of God, and attempted to dig my own wells.  Now, with a broken back (figuratively speaking, but still painfully debilitating), I have come to the end of my hard efforts to be a “good” Christian.  I am banking all on Christ alone.  I am tired of myself.

Every person you see is walking about with something broken.  Some are skilled at hiding it, but this world lies on a razor’s edge of despair.  Those given lots of distractions can often better manage heartache, disappointment and loss, but the longing for tender forgiveness lives in every soul.  Our own lack of strength to truly love and our powerlessness over the tragedies of a fallen world bear down on us, on the poor especially, but on all men.  Admission of weakness fills our fragile frame with fear (how’s that for alliteration!), and causes what Brennan Manning refers to as “the imposter”, to rise.  The imposter-our ego motivated, self protective, bottomless pit of need for human affirmation- tramples the true self.  That true self has room for mercy, and delivers the strong cry of the broken, calling out in a loud voice “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me.”

My dead spirit was woken up by Jesus Christ in 1985, when with great joy I received the best news of my life…”I love you exactly as you are”.  Stunningly, that indescribable transfer of love and mercy to my poor, wretched soul enabled me to begin to change.  I was able humbly, and haltingly, to begin to love without multiple motives.  But like many followers of the Dear Shepherd, I have been hoodwinked by the enemy of my soul, and by a worse devil, self.  As I began my walk with God by grace, not by following the law, so I can only continue lo these 25 plus years later to receive without any personal merit the love of Christ in order to have an authentic, abundant life.  Every ounce of striving has been a waste.  But when the river of the love of God flows through the soul, each moment expressing the Father’s great affection, then there is the opening of the dam to our fellows.  The water runs all over the place.  No one has to make it happen.

So I write here without any cares for my simple mindedness.  I have determined to spend this whole summer looking at the love of Jesus in the word of God.  I am a thirsty woman in a desert of my own making, and joyfully I sit with the psalmist to receive “water on the dry land and streams in the desert”.  I will relearn that profound truth:  God not only loves us, he like us.  The reckless, unrestrained sacrifice of the cross is God’s ultimate answer to shame, grief and every other misery in this world.   If I am loved, I can bear anything.

So friends, I must go back to kindergarten.  I return to the school of stupefying grace and mercy.  Lest I become less than all the Great One created me to be…a brushstroke of the tenderness of God.  The same is true for all of you.  So many of you are far beyond me in this understanding.  Thank you for your kindness.

Your friend on the pilgrim road,

Loriann

On a lighter note (because part of this process is learning to take myself less seriously): I am in a state of devotion toward cinnamon graham crackers.  Whoever came up with that combo, thank you.  Double Yum.  Especially with a glass of 1% milk!

Waiting for the Rain

Dear friends,

I haven’t blogged in a while, mostly because I’m busy homeschooling my 13 year old, and because so much of what I’m experiencing on the pilgrim road is interior, defying that process of pen to paper. And to be honest, I’m just plain beat.  Not sleep deprived, not physically exhausted, but internally tired.  Maybe empty would be a better word.  Like a well that’s gone dry, or a field of corn waiting for a good drenching to perk it back up.

These times are to be expected on the pilgrim road.  Sometimes the land goes fallow for a little while.  The mistake would be to waste the dry time in self pity, or to give up stretching for all you’re worth toward God despite the crispy ground around you.  Things may feel one way, but in the invisible world of the Spirit, there is always some great, cosmic plan going on, always some unseen workings of a mighty God in progress.  These are the times I find the writings of the ancients so helpful.  They all experienced their share of drought, their times when they simply did “the next right thing” without a big bang to go along with it.  And then, at an unexpected moment, the Great One sends the rain…sometimes a flood, sometimes a trickle, sometimes a gentle drizzle.  And the dry time takes its place in the annals of our walk with God, most likely to be repeated in His unending pursuit to bless us with greater faith.

On the home front, the family continues to march on.  Three teenagers in the house.  Enough said.  (I don’t think I can write one of those Christmas letters abounding with accolades and accomplishments.  I mean, my kids are my earthly treasures, beautiful beyond compare to my heart, but my Christmas note would look like a spoof if I were completely honest…things can get messy in my neck of the woods).

Right now I’m reading The Pursuit of God by A.W. Tozer.  Tozer always makes me think more deeply and “outside the box”.  I’m getting ready to start a new book on the Kindle by P.G. Wodehouse (a classic, making it a 99 cent download!) It’s the first in his “Blanding’s Castle” series.  If you’ve never read any Wodehouse, start with any of the Jeeves and Wooster stories.  Pure, witty escapist comedy!

On the TV front, I’m sad to say we just watched the last episode of Foyle’s War, a PBS series I highly recommend.  It’s about a police detective in Hastings, England during WW2. Michael Kitchen as detective Christopher Foyle is simply perfect.  We got the series from the library, but I’d go with Netflix to avoid the frustration of many pixel glitches.  In the barren land of quality entertainment, this one is top drawer. 

My baby boy will be playing the part of Horton this weekend in Our Savior’s Lutheran School’s production of Seussical the Musical.  I will be doing make up (God help them!), and David will play the role of that philosophical elephant, reminding us all that “a person’s a person, no matter how small…” 

So, here I am again, as I’m sure you are, making my way along the pilgrim road, not at all sure of myself but absolutely sure of the One who set my feet to walkin’ here.  I’ll leave you with a quote by one of those old dead guys who didn’t get distracted by facebook and twitter, but who were vexed by things like outdoor “plumbing”, the black plague, and public hangings without due process.

“Men go abroad to wonder at the heights of mountains, at the huge waves of the sea, at the long courses of the rivers, at the vast compass of the ocean, at the circular motions of the stars, and they pass by themselves without wondering.”

~Saint Augustine

Whether you are experiencing rain or drought, don’t pass by yourself and miss the wonder, in whom God has invested His all.

You’re friend on the pilgrim road,

Loriann

Leaving Home, Going Home: Jesus on Good Friday

“The first thing I remember about the world…is that I was a stranger in it.  This feeling, which is at once the glory and desolation of homo sapiens, provides the only thread of consistency that I can detect in my life.”  ~Malcolm Muggeridge

Dear friends,

As Good Friday approaches, I am pondering the loneliness, the sense of isolation Jesus must have felt as he prepared to depart from the very world His cosmic intellect and uncontainable love created.  Every nook and cranny of this planet, every blade of grass, every hair on every antelope, the soft sand of the Atlantic shoreline, the prickly saguaro cactus, the stinky smell of a stagnant bog – all were put into place by His divine imagination.  (Can it even be called imagination when it is the ultimate reality?  That’s a blog for another day.)  For us, this world carries with it what Malcolm Muggeridge describes above.  It’s a place we always find uncomfortable, like we’re wearing someone else’s shoes, only much more important than that. We were designed for a kingdom of love and peace, where an ever present Father walks and talks with us in the cool of the day.  But alas, the misery of sin created a devastating chasm.  The detached spiritual retina of our human eyes cannot see the Father beside us, and our corrupted bodies have lost all but a faint memory of our true home.  But the ache remains, and the foreign feeling of our lives never goes away. 

For Jesus, as He approached His passion, I wonder if it was different.  When He entered this world, the Kingdom of God came to Earth.  He was face to face with all He made.  He looked into the eyes of children whose DNA He worked out in eternity past.  He knew He was on an island where a terrible shipwreck happened, but it was an island of His very own. I wonder if there was a restless stirring in this true Man of Sorrows, who knew what He must do to rescue the whole lot, but who loved us even in our disastrous state.  Was it hard to physically leave us?  Was the lure and beauty and perfect fellowship with the Father so enticing, especially knowing He would succeed in saving us, that He never gave a second thought to His departure.  He set Himself like flint, but was there more to His anguish than just the agony of a hellish death? 

I don’t know the answer to these questions.  I wonder if for Jesus, Earth was missing the same strange, distant loneliness it has for us.  He was the architect of the building we occupy.  He was the carpenter, the interior decorator, the plumber and the electrician.  He built it with extraordinary features to meet the needs of those He was excited to see occupy the place.  It was all His from day one.  He knew while He walked the road from Bethlehem to Jerusalem where the religious and political folk would ultimately stop His beating heart, that one day He would tear down this place of His own and remake it, extinguishing all its corruption and violence.

But did it hurt to leave?  Could the embodiment of heaven miss heaven? 

No matter.  On the third day He rose again.  So one day, we would come home, never to feel like aliens on foreign turf again.  Blessed be His name forever.  He is risen.  He is risen indeed!

Your friend on the pilgrim road,

Loriann

Fire, Earthquakes and Other Not-So-Natural Disasters

Dear friends,

Forgive my fairly lengthy absence.

There are sorrows and troubles that can paralyze the pen, and the soul, but His mercies are always new…and there is a time to simply do, even when the doing comes hard.

To tell the truth (and really, what’s the point if I don’t), my faith is being cooked in a fiery furnace at the moment.  It’s interesting, how life continues to shuttle you forward, making its demands as usual while you seek and cry and burn.  There is no getting off the train.  One must trust the Great One through the smoke and heat while bills are paid, groceries bought, children educated and jobs attended. 

The terrible car accident that visited our family in November, 2009 carries with it fallout, like an earthquake does (of course on a much smaller scale.)  How grateful I remain for the full-team rescue that came our way during that acute phase of disaster!  Eventually the aftershocks calm down and the tsunami waters recede, but the rubble remains and the restoration process has no schedule.  There are too many variables.  So one must cope with a completely different landscape.  Things will never be the same as they were.  The Lord gives, the Lord takes away.  Blessed be the name of the Lord.

Often times, disasters make way for newness of life and a new kind of beauty.  Great forest fires devour great swaths of nature.  Certain kinds of seeds only react to the heat of a major fire, getting a cue from nature that it’s time to rise from the dead.  Faith is the time between the inferno and the shoots of new growth. How I long to have my faith proved genuine!  How I wish there was an easier way to get there.  But if there is anything this puny mind has figured out along the way, it is that I am sorely lacking in perspective.  God is big, magnificent, wise.  I am dust.  If He didn’t keep me along my way, I would surely have slid into a completely wasted life long ago.  I would have ended up at the bottom of some bottle, or in some vat of pride and arrogance, or hopeless, heartless and afraid, wondering why in the world I exist.  That is not my life.  With all its bumbles and offshoots, I know what really matters.  Relationship.  First with God.  Then with people.  In the long run all that remains are faith, hope and love.  But the greatest of these is love.

 Jesus warned us this pilgrim road was not for the faint of heart.  He also promised never, ever to leave us alone.  I’m writing this tonite in my pain because I know you have your own.  We must carry on friends, and allow the work of the Holy Spirit to do what it must, despite our inability to grasp all the whys.  God did not take on frail humanity, humble Himself, die a miserable death, and rise gloriously for nothing.  He is completely invested in us for now and for eternity.  His love really is unfailing.  Nothing can separate us…

“For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

~Romans 8:38-39

Enough said.  The fire doesn’t last forever.  Only long enough to wake up those seeds.  Things will be different, true.  But there will always be mercy.  And grace.

Your friend on the pilgrim road,

Loriann

The Tsunami of a Temporal Only Life

Dear friends,

Several hundred years ago, a man of uncommon common sense spoke these words:

“These are the times that try men’s souls.”  That man was the inimitable Thomas Paine, pot stirrer of the American Revolution, brave patriot and visionary.  He spoke of his time, but all times can borrow his famous moniker.  Every age has its burdens, its trials and its agonies.  As does every life.  History is often a macrocosm of the individuals who occupy its artificial barriers of time.  Artificial in the sense that there are really only two realities: the temporal and the eternal.  While we spin around on this green and blue top through the linear experience we are having, it would do us well to remember we are actually spiritual beings.  I’ve been reminded of those two worlds so many times in these past days that I felt a burning urgency to share my sentiments with my fellow pilgrims.  And those not on the pilgrim road.  And anyone who is engaged in this present darkness, feeling the prick of life’s brevity and the merciful demands of the Great One to “Look up, for your redemption draweth nigh…” 

The earthquake in Japan does not mean the world is ending tomorrow.  But it sure as heck could!  I mean, end tomorrow.  The message of that Pacific island is crystal clear to me:  Your comfortable world, the one you see and touch and interact with every day, can come crashing down in 10 seconds.  If you find your meaning and purpose in this momentary life alone, you are bound for a gigantic fall. 

I feel absolutely frustrated that I can do very little in the physical realm for the people of Japan.  I mean, these folks had our way of life one day, and BOOM, they are rocked back to the 18^th century in a split second.  Crisis is afoot everywhere.  It disturbs.  It horrifies.  It breaks the heart.  But is serves, man, does it serve. “WAKE UP PEOPLE!”, the quaking earth and the roaring seas proclaim.  “This fallen world is not your home, you’re only passing through!”  How dreadful, how much more terrible than even the disaster of Japan, is to  occupy material space for 70 or 80 years, thinking life is about one thing, and finding out in the end it was about something else entirely.  That would be a cosmic meltdown for the human soul more grievous than any nuclear nightmare.

The good news, the great news is of course that God has not left us to wander these shipwrecked shores.  We have (I, the greatest offender!), done every manner of wrong against His eternal kindness, have cared first for ourselves, have placed our maker in a small corner to pull out when convenient, or ignored Him altogether.  He has been the object of intellectual scorn.  He who provides the very air we breathe is railed against as an unfair and uncaring power, despite the fact that common sense scrutiny of the scriptures would disprove this.  God is routinely blamed and questioned for all the world’s evils and dismissed as a joke in regard to its blessings.  Despite all of this, He continues to call men to Himself in multiplied ways, not wanting any to perish in their small, selfish little world, but passionately calling all to come to the open spaces of knowing the One who loves them forever.  He will not force.  But He will press.  And He will use the worst things a devastated world demonstrates to bring all the chicks into the nest.

How I long to live grounded in that eternal world every day!  That real world, which lasts not 70 years, but long after all the suns have become black holes and this little revolving blue beauty has long since been made new.     As much as the terrors and sorrows of the Japanese drama impact us to do earthly good (and may they do that!), let them also remind us of the vapor we are.  All of us.  So that everything we do on this earth has a piece of eternity wrapped within, that can never perish, spoil or fade.

I leave you with a quote from one of my favorite little books, “The Practice of the Presence of God” by a lame little lay monk by the name of Brother Lawrence.  Whether he peeled potatoes in the kitchen, or took on errands for the brotherhood, every humble act he did for “the love of God”.  I put this up over my sink and my desk at work:

“O my God, since Thou art with me, and I must now, in obedience to Thy commands, apply my mind to these outward things, I beseech Thee to grant me the grace to continue in Thy presence; and to this end, do Thou prosper me with Thy assistance, receive all my works, and possess all my affections.”    ~Brother Lawrence

I hope you know I’m always talkin’ to myself first of all.  Let’s let all the terrible things turn us to the true, beautiful, eternal things that can NEVER be shaken.

I love you folks.  I really do.

Your friend on the pilgrim road,

Loriann

P.S.  Hurray for Peter the Great! You can now have this blog sent to your email if you like.  Thanks for tuning in!

 

The Resting and the Suffering

Dear friends,

Here are some random thoughts since our return from the “Smith Family Celebrates Life” vacation.

-         How I wish I could travel on the deep blue sea in February every winter.

-         Best thing about the “Allure of the Seas”: You feel like you’re outside everywhere you go!

-         Net weight gain Loriann: censored.  Net weight gain Stephen: zero!  Despite eating 3 times his normal amount. But he exercises like a mad man!

-         Second best thing about the “Allure of the Seas”:  you never have to drive a car anywhere!

-         I’ll never forget this beautifully relaxing trip, but more than that, I’ll never forget the 14 months leading up to it.  (For more on that, see www.steveandhannahsmith.blogspot.com).

Now we step in to the 40 days leading up to the celebration of the resurrection of the One and Only Son of the Living God.  I’m striving to seek Him with all my heart during this meaningful season, and to receive all kinds of grace from Him when I fall short.  Like all of you, we are experiencing problems and sufferings.  But let’s look at our troubles the way scripture does: as opportunities to go through the purging fires to greater faith.  Trials are not our enemies.  The Book of James says:

“Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance.  Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.”

Jesus endured the cross for “the joy set before Him”.  Friends, it seems there will always be obstacles on the pilgrim road.  I get weary, and I know you do to. We can cling tight to the Great One through it all, and find in the end, sometimes the very end, that everything will work out alright.  None of us has had to face martyrdom.  None of us has gone hungry.  We’ve got it so much easier than many of the great saints, living and dead.  (Just watched Carl Dreyer’s Joan of Arc last night…WOW!)  That doesn’t mean our trials don’t hurt, or don’t count.  But it helps me anyway to remember how “light and momentary” they really are in the whole cosmic scheme of things.  I’m like everyone else: I wish my life were easy, with no heartaches.  That’s simply an unrealistic fantasy.  So best we get on with the business of making our trials work for the Glory of God.  And for joy set before us here, and if not here, in the ages to come…

Your friend on the pilgrim road,

Loriann

PS: A shout out to Danny B., our guest blogger.  That guy always makes me think…and smile!