Brainwaves

Weekend before last, Beth and I went to see Richard Gere and Diane Lane in “Nights in Rodanthe”. Knowing it to be Nicholas Sparks’ sequential to “The Notebook”, my expectations prepared me for another “chick flick tear-jerker”; but, in truth, I really don’t mind romantic plots as long as the theme embraces affairs of the heart. Nonsense doesn’t interest me. Sex in the city, in the country, or on the moon disgusts me when it’s presented in a format resembling nothing more than pornography. Love is not lust; and it doesn’t take full disclosure of the mating process to sell the show. Having said all that, hopefully without offending anyone, let me put my stamp of approval on this one. It brings you a story within a story, even if the ending may not be everyone’s cup of tea…..

This Saturday, the two of us returned and watched Kirk Cameron in “Fireproof”, this one written and produced by a couple of brothers who are associate pastors at a large Baptist church in Georgia. The supporting cast is composed of volunteers from their assembly, but I found no fault with their acting skills. Actually, I had no complaint with the film at all other than it seemed a bit like a tool almost any ecclesiastical community might utilize to teach its members God’s view of marriage being a covenant, not a contract. There were moments within it where its message mirrored my own selfish character in those initial years, times when a point struck home and a tear threatened to expose me for the sentimental slob I am; but, even so, this one, too, is recommended by yours truly…..

Having so critiqued the above, though, I now wish to state my belief that neither Hollywood nor the religious institution at large can come close to cloning relationship as it exists between genders. Each “coupling” is its own manuscript, its own mystery, its own grand adventure. Sunday afternoon I took my wife to dinner. She had noted being hungry, wasn’t sure what she wanted to eat, and continued to make indecisive suggestions as we motored down the expressway to nowhere in particular. Then, out of the blue, she speaks of a baked potato place and, when I fail to comprehend the location, she puts emphasis on her words to help me understand. No argument. No heated discussion. We’ve been here before and, in the long run, my ego is trumped by the bond we have created…..

Take away the rockers and the front porch, and I often think of us as resembling that television duo played by Carol Burnett and Harvey Korman years ago. Our river runs deep, is connected with His, and carries us through whatever the journey brings unto us…..

It is with hesitancy that I post today, not quite sure that a week has been sufficient rest. While my job in Spec-Ed is rewarding, it also sends me home brain-weary, unable to “find the flow” in so far as putting thought to print and depending on week-ends to maintain any consistency. In the past there have been attempts to solve such problem by simply turning this into a daily journal with no more than a few sentences on whatever; but, always, that contemplative side of who I am, before too long, has won and taken me off again, out into the deep. This Wednesday a co-worker at school spoke of feeling like she was at a place where, although she realized God had not left her, His presence seemed distant. She called it a “plateau”. I told her that such term spoke to me of reaching “levels” and that I didn’t perceive our salvation to be achieved through climbing some spiritual mountain. There will always be those times when we seem to be alone, when the mystery of it all is a thick cloud through which we pass. Humanity remains humanity; and life drains us. It makes us no less Christian, no less void of faith.…

She smiled, appeared to be encouraged; and I’m back (for whatever that’s worth), at least with a promise to set the table with whatever and whenever it comes….

"The time is come", the walrus said, "to talk of many things: of shoes and ships and sealing wax, of cabbages and kings, and why the sea is boiling hot, and whether pigs have wings".....

I awoke with this on my mind this morning, having debated last night about ending this site, my finger one impulse away from the delete button. While I think it to be nigh unto impossible for me to stop my mind from searching out the mystery, it might indeed be well the time to put this adventure here to rest, at least for a spell, and to say "thanks" to those who have shared any part of the more than seven year journey along the way. The sidebar links stay with me. I will be by to visit. Peace......

My brain has seemingly been in a state of numbness since this past weekend, Maybe I’m just getting too old for this or they tell me those winds that blew through a few weeks ago, knocking down trees, stirred up a lot of pollution that is making people sick. I do not feel sick, just unable to get satisfied with putting my thoughts down on paper. How well I have succeeded is questionable, but at least I can perhaps move on from here. Sorry for no more than another of my musings on “the state of the Ark”……

My favorite dictionary defines “theology” as (a) the study and interpretation of religious faith, practice, and experience; esp thought about God and His relation to the world; and (b) a course of professional religious training. Both explanations would indicate someone needs either a seminary degree or at least serious perusal of the Book in order to possess such item; but the word’s Greek roots merely translate to “supreme being” and “rational utterance”. As far as the first part of that division, who among us doesn’t believe in something, even if it is to believe in nothing? We all have an opinion of some kind on the matter. It’s the latter portion that gives me pause. After all, when the foundation for what we, as Christians, profess to be truth begins with the claim that a man was crucified, laid to rest in a tomb, and then somehow rose from the dead, how can any further discussion be considered rational? We can point to the universe, and again to nature, and note enough evidence of intelligent design to warrant our declaration of a Creator; but when it comes to giving testimony of a risen Savior, as a Church we want to quote a couple of ancient ecclesiastical credos, “talk by faith”, and expect the world to swallow our story because it’s “in the Book”…..

Whether we rest on historical induction oaths or new-fangled teaching equating “the Holy Ghost in me” to a reality we command, though, the journey, itself, will prove, in the long run, the strength of our commitment. What we possess will either atrophy into religion, or He who possesses us will continue to breathe life into our salvation. What we, ourselves, build will meet the test of time and be shaken. What he establishes within us may well be a day-by-day struggle to achieve, but it will survive. Jesus, Himself, said that the most important commandment was to love God “with all our heart, soul, mind, and strength”, indicating to me, not only that this relationship shared would require some work”, but also that our thought process is as much a piece of the puzzle as anything else. The problem isn’t in mentally sorting out the whole affair, but in thinking ourselves so smart as to hold God in a box…..

We are no more than a little over a month into this current school year, but I am really encouraged with the progress made thus far by my young charge. There have been only two incidents of anger physically brought forth and both took place within the first few days of our return. He is “allowing” me to converse with others, waits patiently, and follows my directives. It is hard to believe this is the same child who gave us so much trouble all the way through Third Grade. Scholastically, there are actually signs of being able to achieve something even though, for awhile, it was all a game to him. He wanted me to solve all the puzzles, give him the answers. Little by little, however, he is starting to show effort and giving less resistance to learning something new. The job is no longer “baby-sitting”. This boy is teachable and that’s exciting…..

Yesterday morning, waiting in front for his bus to arrive, with a bit of a chill in the air and a thin white covering over our neck of the woods doing little to prevent solar warming, I shared with the others there the first musical strain of “I’ve got suuuuuun-shine on a cloudy day”. Such partial interjection of lyrics isn’t unusual at all for me. Driving to work earlier, with the grandkids asleep in the car, from out of my spirit I re-invented the words to “These Are A Few of My Favorite Things” over and over when my memory didn’t retain the correct ones. Don’t get me wrong. Life has its moments; but, for the most part, it’s also what you make it. I believe in being passionate about what you believe; yet, in a world where we all don’t believe alike, it doesn’t mean I have to “eliminate the enemy” until everybody thinks like me. We all have our own perspectives…..

Before even leaving home Friday, I visited a friend’s on-line site and discovered he had provided a link to an operatic spoof entitled “Les MisObama”. My candidate of choice is McCain; but listening to Barak’s campaign warriors bring forth a melodic blend of victory being just “one more day” away had me almost standing to my feet and cheering. Such enthusiasm warmed my heart. I understand it. I do not, however, buy it. Too many sermons along the way, too many preachers propagating promises that didn’t pan out in the end; and a politician, regardless of party affiliations, is yet a politician. There’s about eighteen inches distance between the head and the heart; and it’s easy enough to mistake either for the Holy Ghost. Easy enough whether the person in question is me or the other guy. Mostly, therefore, I find myself walking by the seat of my pants, a tug on the anchor-line, and whatever tune surfaces…..

Sunday morning, the new scheduling of events at our church did not set well with me, the early service having been set forward half an hour and, indeed, reduced to an hour of worship. Sunday school class, then, is now seated in the sanctuary and sandwiched between the exodus of the first congregation and the entrance of the next. The teacher has been paired with a lady who begins and ends each session with her version of “all in the family”, recognizing birthdays, anniversaries, talents, etc.; and, by the time she gets through with the hoopla, he has less than twenty-five minutes to present a lesson. This week’s lesson was on “patience” and I found myself possessing very little of the item. We did no more than to look at Abraham and Sarah waiting more than two decades for the arrival of Isaac and then listen to one couple’s testimony of having to endure eleven months for their house to sell, disappointed because the quickness they had claimed for such coup didn’t come to pass. Maybe if they had actually listened to God, Himself, in the matter, their expectations might have been more realistic…..

Sunday afternoon, high velocity winds representing Ike’s last breath, I guess, swept across this area of Kentucky, seemingly in a come-and-go fashion, knocking down huge tree limbs and, in the process, reducing several counties to a state of no electricity. No school today and none tomorrow, even though it looks as if we might be back in business, the power coming back on, here at the house, a little over an hour ago. It’s been a bit of an inconvenience, especially since we live out of a cistern and no pump equates to no running water; but compared to all the flooding and damage in Texas and other parts of this country, the sudden short-term loss of my television, computer, and coffee pot is no big deal. I can still consider myself blessed; and can do so without trying to suggest that God somehow orchestrated the storm one way or the other. As much as I believe that His presence is here and among us, ever available for us to approach and connect with via an inner source through Christ, I yet think it true that we all too often mis-use and mis-define such mystery…..

A couple of internet friends, both involved for sometime now in ministry, have stirred my thoughts lately with posts that could connect only in such a “lost in space” mind as I seem to possess. The one fellow is an Episcopalian and runs a homeless shelter, writing one day of how, within the community of his “congregation”, someone always seemed to be either dying or being born, then following that one with a story about “the boom-shakalaka”, one man’s term for what Pentecostals call “the anointing”. The second man is Canadian, with the last eight years or so of his life invested into an ecclesiastical move referred to as the Emerging Church and, now, not so much sorry for the journey therein as perhaps simply aware of his heart having parted company along the way. He’s yet in ministry, and in more than one area, just not “politically attached” to a denominational body…..

With more than three decades of stumbling forward in this, I’m like the one preacher who commented that he has “seen a lot of stuff”. From old-time holiness to modern-day, mega-church, super-star evangelism, the path has given me both the phony and the phenomenal. I openly confess to pondering this relationship with a resurrected Christ, questioning how we can, as believers, be certain of just what is or is not “of the Spirit”. Theological winds blow through. Birth and death are not merely biological points of existence. Likewise, what takes me into worship, what feeds my soul, doesn’t necessarily hinge on the integrity of that one bringing worth the witness. I have found Him in a song; I have met with Him in prayer; and I have known Him in an overflowing shared with strangers and with friends. If, in that, the other guy was only “playing games”, it took nothing away from resurrection in me…..

On another site, this morning, the author was trying to explain what he had meant in an earlier post, speaking of feeling “trapped” within his former occupational positioning. Out of that, then, emerged a discussion concerning religious traditions suffering from a “know the truth mentality”. I noted myself as having trouble with such phrasing, for the Bible speaks in one place of it being possible to “sear our conscience”, in another of our heart being “deceitful above all things”, and in another of a time when God will send “strong delusion, that they should believe a lie”. For me, “truth” and “freedom” come out of a well much deeper than my cranial cavity; and, even in that, I find each day a classroom experience where, along the way, I meet with Him at the oasis, finding, in Him, the personification of both terms. If but for a few moments, we connect and are one; then the next breath, the next step…..