Echoing the Presence of God

A remark made by naturalist John Muir more than a century ago has managed to lodge itself into my mind.

I only went out for a walk and finally concluded to stay out till sundown, for going out, I found, was really going in.

Waist deep in the cool waters of Bennett Springs, my face and neck warmed by the sun, I felt a sense of oneness with the earth. Trout, both large and small, were meandering within inches of my feet, and Nature was playing one of her beautiful orchestral arrangements, echoing the presence of God. Brady and I made sure to apply ample amounts of sunscreen due to the fact that pale is "in" this season, and because Callie was kind enough to remind us before our departure.

The retirees fly fishing around me seemed to have perfected this art, convincing numerous trout to strike. But by swinging the fly back and forth through the air, the first thing I managed to catch was the crotch of my waders. My original focus was ostensibly on avoiding this region, but to no advantage. Hoping to limit this occurrence, and having grown frustrated by my lack of technique, I switched to a spin-casting rod. Although it came several hours after we arrived, I eventually caught my first trout, and it was worth every minute of it. But alas, I joined ranks as a bearer of the "one that got away" tale. Brady was downstream and sole possessor of the net, so when the fish danced, I watched in slow motion, helplessly, as the fish followed the trajectory toward the waters below. But whatever loss I experienced was overwhelmingly less than what I took out of this adventure.

Great conversations permeated the day, and gave rise to quality time spent with someone I truly consider a brother. The weather was delightful from beginning to end, starting with warm sun and closing with a thunderstorm rolling in.

Stillness and silence were satisfying for my soul. I was reminded of when the Lord speaks to Elijah on Mount Horeb...not in the wind...not in the earthquake...not in the fire...but, instead in a low whisper. There, in the stream, I am filled with a deep inner silence and wait for a still, small voice.

He speaks tenderly and reminds me that we are never alone.

pain. hope. joy.

An ancient song fills my head in this moment.

Be not far from me, for trouble is near, and there is none to help. Psalm 22:11.

My roommate found out yesterday that his older brother had died unexpectedly. Earlier that morning he found out that his girlfriend's mother was diagnosed with breast cancer. My heart aches in this moment. It aches for Adam and the families affected by these difficult life moments.

In a more recent song; one that draws from the ancestry of the Psalms, titled "Pain," Aaron Strumpel sings what I am feeling: "I grow nearly faint when I see all the pain...There's AIDS in the world, and cancer in my friends, and I'm sick now 'cause I'm scared."

I cling to hope. I deeply desire that others might cling to this living hope. I hope in the eventual triumph of wholeness over disease, in the swallowing up of death by a life that cannot be denied.

I am affirmed by the twenty third Psalm.

The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want.

He makes me lie down in green pastures.

He leads me beside still waters.

He restores my soul.

He leads me in paths of righteousness

for his name's sake.

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,

I will fear no evil,

for you are with me;

your rod and your staff,

they comfort me.

Psalm 23:1-4

No, I will not be in want. You are with me; I will not fear. You comfort me; I will not fear. Fear has no place, not even a foothold, even in the face of terrifying things such as disease and sorrow. In the end, joy has the last word, offering a blessing.

Last weekend marked the first funeral I've attended for a patient that I've worked with at the hospital. It was for a man that many at the hospital felt a close connection to. He was one of the jolliest people I have ever met. We shared jokes back and forth each weekend, and if time allowed, we would talk about more than just the quick, "How are you feeling?" questions, and had several conversations that encompassed faith, marriage, children, and legacy. Over the weeks that I was able to care for him, I looked forward to our talks, but I wanted to see him get better and move on to the next step in his rehabilitation. One night I came in and struck up a quick conversation expecting our usual banter, but the mood was different. The air was thick with despair and depression. After weeks of working with him, this was the first time that I had seen him feeling this way and it upset me. I devised a plan to try to help bring him some joy. After my shift was over, with the help of a few other staff, we were able to transfer him to a wheelchair. He thought he was just going to sit up for breakfast, but I wrapped him in blankets and we rolled out of the room and navigated our way through the maze of the hospital until we reached the lower lobby. The mechanized doors parted and the sunrise shown brightly in front of us. I figured go big or go home applied here, so we took several laps around the parking lot, up hills and dodging cars. We were outside for nearly twenty minutes, but to the person occupying the chair, it could have been weeks.

A small idea planted in my mind by divine hands, was acted upon, and grew into something that would bring back the jolly spirit of a man that had been in a hospital room too long. His spirits revived, but his body unexpectedly did not. I imagined that the walk would be a turnaround point for his recovery, and it was partially accurate. His body began to deteriorate, but his renewed spirit allowed him to make peace with dying, and with God.

A small idea planted in the mind by divine hands, when acted upon, can grow something with an impact as great as feeling the cool breeze and warmth of the sun for seemingly weeks, though it be a literal last experience.

Listen intently and look with sharp eyes for the opportunities around you, Eric.

An excerpt from E. B. Browning's "Aurora Leigh" speaks truths I am ready to believe.

"Earth's crammed with heaven,

And every common bush afire with God;

But only he who sees, takes off his shoes,

The rest sit round it, and pluck blackberries,

And daub their natural faces unaware..."

No, I will not be in want. You are with me; I will not fear. You comfort me; I will not fear.

Joy has the last word, offering a blessing.

source of hope

The tougher the times, the greater the need to live a life of love for others.

Nearness. This is what I have felt today. This is what has been encouraging me deep, deep down. Nearness to the the source of real hope. Following an emotionally taxing night at the hospital, I was eager to be around the family of God in hopes of restoration. A time gap allowed for 1 Peter and a great cup of coffee to begin to warm my body and soul before heading to Karis. Hat on, hood up, focused eyes, open heart. There are times when I am aware of my need for something outside of myself to make it through each moment. This is always the reality, but I am only really aware of this at certain times. This morning I felt it in the fibers of my being. I could feel that by the end of my shift I was not loving my patients well, and I was going through motions. This realization is defeating. I know that there is no slacking when it comes to our call to live like Jesus, especially when life is really tough. Peter doesn't ease our burden by saying we don't have to live like Jesus during difficult times. Instead he writes something to equip us with the power to love.

He begins his letter saying: "Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! According to his great mercy, he has caused us to be born again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead" (1:3). The power of hope. If we are to love like Jesus loved, even in times of great stress and worry, then we must be filled with "living hope."

There are some things going on in life, that when I hear this kind of encouragement it provokes a resounding "Amen!" because this is what I've been looking for and needing to hold onto. This "living hope" is fertile, fruitful, and productive. It has power. It gives rise to change.

I needed this. I need this. Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! There is great cause for celebration.

communion wine

My parents and I were having a glass of wine after a lovely dinner a few nights ago. Dad had taught a study about the last supper as it relates to communion the night prior. Proud as I was to see my dad leading at church, I couldn't help but get lost in the text. I've been reading in Isaiah and that night I began to see connections between Jesus' last supper and the feast foretold in Isaiah 25 and the wedding feast in Revelation 19...

[6] On this mountain the LORD of hosts will make for all peoples

a feast of rich food, a feast of well-aged wine,

of rich food full of marrow, of aged wine well refined.

[7] And he will swallow up on this mountain

the covering that is cast over all peoples,

the veil that is spread over all nations.

[8] He will swallow up death forever;

and the Lord GOD will wipe away tears from all faces,

and the reproach of his people he will take away from all the earth,

for the LORD has spoken.

(Isaiah 25:6-8 ESV)

[9] And the angel said to me, “Write this: Blessed are those who are invited to the marriage supper of the Lamb.” And he said to me, “These are the true words of God.”

(Revelation 19:9 ESV)

While enjoying the cup with my parents, I was reminded that Jesus said that he would not drink wine again until he drinks it new, when we are new, together in his kingdom. I long for that day. To be welcomed into the presence of my maker and savior is sobering. Though I am parched, I lap my tongue at the sour wine of lesser lovers. Yet by grace Jesus welcomes me to taste the aged wine that knows no time.

[29] I tell you I will not drink again of this fruit of the vine until that day when I drink it new with you in my Father's kingdom.”

(Matthew 26:29 ESV)

I must quote Waterdeep, from their song Both Of Us'll Feel The Blast, a song that presents as vivid an image of this as I've come across

...dying's underrated, it's a ticket to the feast-
The one we're all invited to, from the greatest to the least

I hope we sit together when Jesus serves the wine
So I can look into your eyes when I taste it the first time
And I know there's no secrets when you're sitting at that table
But I believe we'll smile real knowingly when we read the label
And it says "passion sacrificed to keep from going crazy."
We'll tip our glasses to the Host who used to look so hazy
And drink it down all sweet and slow and slip inside His mind
And realize as it goes down- this is communion wine

I love the chill and goosebumps the Spirit so lovingly supplies when connections are made, and when I'm graced with the ability to understand a little bit about God and who he is. Love wells from within and I feel giddy about what I've just read from the Bible. Jesus, teach me that this is really what it looks like to be a man. A man in your eyes.