BEYOND KNOWLEDGE TO KNOWING

I remember going down to the beach during a storm and trying to imagine what it was like to experience that as one who didn’t know what I know about storms.  What would I think about looking at the huge and angry waves that had been calm the day before; looking at the dark clouds moving quickly across the sky that had been bright blue and filled with light the day before?  What would I think about the water pouring down on me and the lightening streaking down from above; what would I think about the wind that was blowing so hard it almost knocked me down to the ground?  Eventually I just stopped thinking and simply let myself go into all of it and experienced the life and energy that I was totally immersed in.  I didn’t have to know what, where, or how; I just enjoyed looking at it and being a part of it all.  I went beyond inquisition into inclusion.  I went beyond inquiry into inspiration.  I walked home filled with life and in awe; silent and at peace.

I remember my high school biology class, sitting at the lab table with a dead frog before me.  We were going to learn about the frog by dissecting it piece by piece and observing what made frogs do what frogs do and are.  After we completed the assignment, drew our diagrams, and wrote our responses to the teacher’s questions, we cleaned up the mess and went to our next class.  At the end of the day I walked home and stopped by the pond where I spent many days and hours playing with frogs.  I used to pick them up and talk with them, eye to eye; my friends and I had frog jumping contests with them; sometimes in the evening I would sit and listen to them talk with one another across the pond.  Today as I sat there I wondered why my teacher would think that the way to know a frog was to kill it and cut it all to pieces.  I knew the frogs much better by simply being with them, playing with them, and listening to them talk with one another across the pond.

I remember my times in Bible College, Seminary, and Church reading and listening to all the teachings about God, doctrine, and theology.  I participated in the arguments and learned about all the arguments and debates that had gone on throughout history.  I heard about all the rules and regulations to properly know God and what was the right and wrong way to think about God, the Bible, the Church, and all the Religions in the world.

My hands were full of books and my head was full of information.  But my heart felt empty.  At the end of the day I would go home and simply sit and remember the times I stood on the beach during a storm or sat on the banks of the pond and played with the frogs.  I remember the early hours of the morning when I sit with God in silence and read from my Bible, hearing His words spoken to me through its pages, filling my heart with His Presence.  I go beyond knowledge to knowing.  I enjoy that time and always leave filled with life, awe, and peace.

GROWING MORE LIKE OURSELVES

“We grow neither better nor worse as we get old, but more like ourselves.”

Amish Proverb

This Proverb struck like lightening in my soul as I read it.  It puts the icing on the cake of all I have been learning as I have been celebrating Lent this year.  I have looked at all the work of trying to get better; all the shame of getting worse; it’s all waste to be added to the composition of who I am. 

The tree I look at every morning has been teaching me that for years.  A tree simply is a tree.  That is all that is expected of it.  The tree seed falls into the ground, and grows into itself.  All the events and circumstances that daily surrounds and affects that tree are inconsequential. They may leave their mark on it, but it still remains the tree it was meant to be.

The tree doesn’t strive to be anything other that what it is.  It simply grows into its full treeness.  It faithfully does what it was created to do and by simply being itself provides nutrition and beauty for the earth and nutrition and beauty for me.  My soul is well fed as I watch its cycles of growth year after year as it grows into its fullness and maturity.  There is a splendor and majesty to a full and mature tree, as it stands against the backdrop of the sky.  It speaks to the splendor, majesty, and power of the God that created it and continually gives it life, as it becomes more like itself.

MISSED MIRACLE

I used to “winter” in Rehoboth Beach, DE, four blocks away from the ocean.  I would be there from October through April and loved the live of a beach hermit that I was able to live for many years.  The best part of my time there was a mourning ritual I made for myself.  Every morning I would walk down the street, stop in at the local bakery, get a cup of coffee, and go sit on the board walk to watch the sun rise.  It was dark as I took my seat on the bench and waited for the show to begin.  One by one the seagulls used to arrive and sit on the shoreline, as if they too knew the miracle that was about to happen. 

The dawn would bring a muted light as the night clouds began to move out, testimony that light does overcome darkness.  The faithful few began to show up, those local folks who came morning after morning.  We nodded to one another but no one spoke.  We observed the sacredness of the moment.  It would get brighter and the sky would become more colorful, with various shades of red and golden yellows, revealing the line in the horizon that distinguished the sea and the sky.  Then the moment came and people stopped and simply looked out to see the tip of red arise, as if it was ascending from the water itself.  The tip grew and within minutes the round red sun was fully exposed and kept rising higher into the sky, bring forth the new day.

The sun rise was always the same, yet always different. It was a stunning event that in my mind, heart, and soul was truly a miracle.  The faithful few began to leave the holy ground they had been standing on.  We nodded to each other, this time with a smile and a simple “Good Morning” shared with one another.  I rose from my bench and walked home to get about my day.

I used to visit the beach during the summers.  But it was very different than my winter beach experience.  People poured down to the shore, blowing in like a hurricane, filling the place with noise and activity.  They were getting away from the madhouse of the busy lives they were living elsewhere, but from where I sat they were merely bringing it down to a different place and renaming it vacation.

I still did my morning ritual but now it was no longer me and a faithful few locals.  In the early morning there were many invaders of the dawn’s solitude and quiet.  There were people jogging with their ears plugged to the music machine on their waist, missing the morning hellos from the seagulls flying in one by one to the shore line.  There were people walking and talking about their business and their lives that they had come here to get away from for awhile.  They would continue their running with their eyes focused ahead to the next step, and go on talking to one another, totally unaware of the changes of color that were happening in the sky, the sea gulls preparing themselves for the coming moment, or the tip of red showing on the horizon, the round red sun coming out of the water and rising, bringing forth a new day.  They missed the miracle, the faithfulness of the moment, and thoughtlessly trampled on holy ground.

Fortunately the faithful few were there; the year round locals and winter beach friends such as me.  They would turn and move from where they were standing and watching the daily miracle.  As they passed by they would smile a “Good Morning” smile, but shaking their heads, simply saying, “Tourist!”  I arose from my bench and went home to get about my day, my heart and mind looking forward to winter.

GOD IS BEYOND ALL THINGS

In the dead of winter it is difficult to remember the new life of spring.

In the cold darkness the warmth and light of the sun eludes me.

My soul turns to despair as I gaze at the barrenness of life.

The branches on the trees are empty, stripped to the bark and colorless.

The sky is grey and bland as the sun hides its rays of gold.

The winter has been long and seemingly barren and devoid of life.

But then he came.  He flew in from the south and landed on a branch.

His brilliant red stood out valiantly against the bland background.

He sat there waiting and then she came, landing on the branch next to him.

They have returned from who knows where as they have year after year.

If history rings true spring is not far behind them.

I welcome them with a smile; my soul begins to warm; my eyes look beyond.

My cardinals are back and I know I’ve been once more redeemed.

In the dreariness of the mundane and uneventful life I allow myself to be drawn into, I forget to look up, to look out, and look beyond what is there.

Beyond my limited senses there is a life beyond this life, a world beyond this world, a God beyond all I can imagine.  When I get stuck in the mundane He brings forth the majestic.  When I get stuck in the humdrum He brings forth the higher way.  He speaks His word and creates a new heart, a new vision, a new life.  Time after time He recreates that heart, vision, and life within me because I forget from time to time.  But He never forgets; He is always timely. 

Year after year my cardinals come back and I know spring is beyond them.