The Sound of Silence

"Ultimate peace is silent through the density of life,"

-C. S. Lewis

What is the sound of one hand clapping? The "sound of silence" comes to mind–one answer to this ancient koan.

Silence, I've come to believe, is the answer to many of life's contradictions. I'm learning to say less these days. It was Jesus' way. In the face of severe provocation he was "silent and did not reply" (Mark 14:61). Jesus could have answered his critics, but, "like a sheep before its shearers is silent, He did not open his mouth," as one of the prophets said.

There is awesome power in silence, especially in those overwhelmingly bad situations in which we are subject to harsh words from those we greatly love. There, silence is most difficult for loved ones have the greatest power to wound us. But there it is most essential, for we owe our own homes the greatest measure of gentleness and forbearance.

Silence forestalls angry reactions and bitter words that we may later regret and others may never forget. Silence gives us time to slow our thoughts and reorder them, perhaps to remind ourselves that the one who wounded us is weary, or worried and otherwise out of sorts. Or we may quickly forgive for they may not know what they're doing. We should always forgive anything the moment there is anything to forgive for there is no better time.

Silence is a means by which we may help others see themselves, for their voices reverberate in the quietness we offer, and in it they may hear their unkind words and regret them. When we step aside and wait in stillness, we give God an opportunity to work through us. When we take up our own cause we may frustrate his ultimate intention to use us to bring spiritual healing and health to others.

Silence can be the gentle answer that turns away anger. Defensive reactions make things worse: they "stir up wrath"(Proverbs 15:1). Restraint and silence relieve tension and restore peace. When we thus "make peace," we "sow a seed whose fruit is righteousness"(James 3:18). Others begin to grow toward goodness through our example.

Finally, calm, unruffled silence is an eloquent and gracious reflection of God's unconditional love. Clement, a first century Christian, wrote, "Let (those who belong to Christ) demonstrate by silence the gentleness of their tongue; (thus) let them show His love" (1 Clement 21:7).

And so we pray for a silence that "swallows up the waves of wrong and never throws them back to swell the commotion of the angry sea from whence they came" (George MacDonald). Oh, for grace to annihilate wrong in this way. 

Home Sweet Home

"Their graves are their homes forever, their dwelling places to all generations, though they called lands by their own names" —Psalm 49:11

A few years ago Carolyn and I bought two lots at Dry Creek Cemetery, a wind-swept hill overlooking the city of Boise. One for me and one for her. Mine is about 4’ wide and 8' long—32 square feet in all. I laid down on it—much to Carolyn's chagrin—to see if I fit. I did. Just barely. It Isn't much to see, but it's mine.

Some people acquire vast estates and some have lands named after them, like Amerigo, Vespucci, but it occurs to me that the only piece of real estate any of us will ever truly "own" is our grave. Not much to show for a lifetime of effort.

That's the problem with a "this world" perspective. No matter what you acquire or accomplish in this life you can't take it with you. As Israel's poet put it, you die and "leave everything to others"  (49:10). This calls for "understanding” (49:3,20), knowledge that there is another dimension of reality, an unseen realm in which earthly notions of the good life are irrelevant. This present world is tangible but transient; the unseen world is forever and forever. It's toward that invisible, eternal realm that our predominant thoughts, time and energy must go. That's what it means to "lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys and where thieves do not break in and steal." Everything else is a wasting asset—an investment that will  inexorably and irreversibly decline in value over time.

I'm reminded here of a story I heard years ago about a stock broker that encountered a genie who granted the obligatory wish. "A copy of the Wall Street Journal one year hence," the man replied. Thereupon, paper in hand, he turned to the market report for that day anticipating a killing. But his eye fell first on his picture on the opposite page accompanied by his obituary. The killing he anticipated was his own.

David Roper

OBSCURITY

I've always been fond of certain lines by that strange and solitary poet, Emily Dickinson: "I'm nobody. Who are you? Oh-are you nobody too?" I ask myself: Am I willing to be nobody? Will I run that risk for Jesus' sake?

There is a dark side to leadership. Personal dysfunction, in one form or another, can serve as the driving force behind our desire to achieve success as a leader.  It can be disguised and couched in spiritual language (the need to fulfill the Great Commission and grow the church), and go undetected and unchallenged.

We pray for power in our ministries. Our prayers seem sincere, godly and without ulterior motive, yet I know the dark desires in my own heart. I know that under my prayers and fervor there’s a good deal of personal ambition, a craving for importance and the desire to be thought of as a spiritual leader. There's very little brokenness and humility in me.

"Do you seek great things for yourself?" Jeremiah asks, "Seek them not." I need to take his counsel to heart.

If God catapults us into fame we should be thankful, but we shouldn't seek it for ourselves. We must wait for advancement until God brings it to us.

Personal ambition is a terrible trait, manifesting itself in an ugly passion for the "best seats"--insisting on recognition, wanting to be noticed, longing to be prominent, smarting when we're not consulted or advised, dominating social situations, telling our stories rather than listening to others, wanting to be seen, gravitating to the center rather than serving unnoticed on the edge.

It displays itself in our tendencies to resist authority, to become angry and defensive when crossed or challenged, to harbor grudges, nurse grievances and wallow in self-pity. It's the drive behind our desire to associate with the rich and famous rather than with the little people that make up most of our ministry.

Authentic leadership, on the other hand, means being led downward to a cross. It means being content when others are elevated above us and advanced at our own expense. It means being glad when someone else is preferred or gets the credit for something we've done. It means accepting every humiliation and looking upon every person who demeans us as a disguised grace. God accepts such humbling as the proof that our whole being wants it.

The beginning place for you and me is to learn humility from Jesus: He was "meek and humble in heart," not the least concerned about protecting his dignity or position. By coming again and again to him and asking for his help, we'll become more like him and we'll find that rest of which he speaks—rest from all the posturing, affectation and ambitious striving that makes us so weary and ill at ease.

"Seek obscurity," Francois Fenelon said. We must be willing to be unknown and unnoticed, to serve quietly in a hidden place where no one but God knows what we're doing.

DHR

Deformed

Odd, this twisted form

       should be the work of God.

God, who makes, without mistakes,

       the happy norm, the status quo—

the usual—made me, you know.

The Royal Palm He made;

       and, too, the stunted pine.

With joy I see the lovely shapes;

       with pride I live in mine.

No accident I am:

       a Master Craftsman's plan.

—Ruth Bell Graham

I came across a tortured, twisted pine tree some years ago, high on a ridge—an ugly, misshapen thing at first glance. But I looked again and saw something deeper and better and thought of those whose deformities are overwhelmed by rare beauty. 

Appearance is overrated, a mere sensation in the eyes (or brain) produced by shape, color and motion and conditioned a good deal by society and association. (In some cultures, foot-long ear lobes and distended lips are thought to be the essence of loveliness.)

A philosopher–friend of mine once pointed out to me that objects cannot be beautiful in themselves for they’re only arrangements of colorless, shapeless, invisible atoms. We can’t see them, but if we could, they would bring us no delight or satisfaction.

There is a spiritual beauty, however, that is much deeper and more enduring than anything we can see with our natural eyes. It is the symmetry and splendor that God brings to his children, what scripture calls “the beauty of holiness.”

Our present culture turns the phrase upside down, worshipping outward appearance and the holiness of beauty.[1] But that’s a terrible mistake, for it leads us to vanity—the desire to exceed the limits God has appointed for us—and is the means by which pride and self–preoccupation enter in and we miss the highest good. Preoccupation with our bodies, as even pagan philosophers affirm, unavoidably leads to the diminishment of our souls. Plato in his dialogue, Phaedro, argues that we can love wisdom, or we can love our bodies, but we cannot, at the same time, love both.

We must be satisfied, then, with the way God has formed us. Our disabilities and deformities are not a mistake, but part of God’s eternal plan. His way of dealing with them is not to remove them, but to endow them with godlike strength, dignity and beauty and put them to his intended use—as they are.

McGuffey had it exactly right…

Beautiful faces are they that wear,

The light of a pleasant spirit there;

Beautiful hands are they that do,

Deeds that are noble, good and true;

Beautiful feet are they that go,

Swiftly to lighten another’s woe.

—McGuffey’s Second Reader

Has aging or accident brought humiliating disfigurement? Do you consider yourself an eyesore, too ugly to be of use?

No, you are “(God’s) workmanship” created as you are for good works (Ephesians 2:10). You are his special creation, designed from birth to manifest God’s loveliness in a unique way. The Craftsman’s plan surpasses the material.

Your countenance, though wrinkled and blemished, can be adorned with the joy of the Lord and made lovely with his kindness and compassion. Your body, be it ever so humble and lumpish, can be graceful in unselfish service and love. This is “grace beyond reach of art,” human ugliness hidden in divine loveliness, beauty at its very best.

And, of course, this is not all that will be. On ahead lies the redemption of our bodies. One day soon we will be made new: “We are as God has made us, but we are not as God will make us. We will be made over again and everything will once for all be set right” (George MacDonald).

And so, I pray, may the beauty of the Lord our God be upon us.

DHR

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[1] I’m reminded here of the character on “Saturday Night Live” that always ended his monologue with the reminder: “Looking good is better than being good.”

Thunder

Thunder rolls and crashes across the Sawtooths, echoing through the peaks and canyons around us, shaking the ground—a celestial sonic boom! My old dog cuts and runs. I stand amazed and delighted.

Scientists tell us that thunder is a natural phenomenon, nothing more than the sudden expansion of super-heated air around a lightning bolt's path..The biblical poets inform us that thunder is more than natural, naked force; It is the voice of God:

The voice of the LORD is over the waters;
the God of glory thunders,
the LORD, over many waters.
The voice of the LORD is powerful;
the voice of the LORD is full of majesty.
The voice of the LORD breaks the cedars;
the LORD breaks the cedars of Lebanon.
—Psalm 29:3-5

And again:

”The skies give forth thunder;
    your arrows flash on every side.
The crash of your thunder is in the whirlwind;
    your lightnings light up the world;
    the earth trembles and shakes” 
—Psalms 77:7, 8

Several of the psalms refer to a thunderstorm that overshadowed Israel as she made her way through the Red Sea—thunder that spelled doom for the Egyptians, but deliverance to God's people. Each resounding clap was a comforting voice assuring those  He loved and had come to save.

It thundered again when Jesus asked his Father to glorify His name. A voice answered from heaven with this assurance: "I have glorified it, and will glorify it again.” The crowd said it thundered; Jesus, with better hearing, heard the voice of God (John 12:28,29).

Are you troubled today? Call out to God. He will answer you from "the place of thunder" (Psalm 81:7). You may not hear the thunder roll, but it will rumble and reverberate throughout the heavens. God may not deliver you from your circumstances, but He will speak peace to your heart of hearts and deliver you from all your fears. He "will give strength to his people! He will bless his people with peace! (Psalm 29:11).

There's no need to be afraid of thunder. Children should know this, young and old. It is one of ways God reminds us of his mighty power to save.

David Roper
1/25/15

Set Aside

There comes a time when we must ante up for the things we did to our bodies when they were young. After numerous surgeries on back, knees, shoulders and other parts of my anatomy I'm now facing radical back surgery, a procedure that will take four or five months out of my life. Benched, I said to myself. Set aside.

Then, this morning I opened a copy of Mrs. Cowman's devotional, Streams in the Desert, and read the entry for the day: January 22. (Actually, this is January 20, but I’m a bit addled these days.)

The devotional for the day contained John Ruskin's poem, "Called Aside."

Called aside—

From the glad working of your busy life,

From the world’s ceaseless stir of care and strife,

Into the shade and stillness by your Heavenly Guide

For a brief time you have been called aside. ​

Called aside—

Perhaps into a desert garden dim;

And yet not alone, when you have been with Him,

And heard His voice in sweetest accents say:

“Child, will you not with Me this still hour stay?”

Called aside—

In hidden paths with Christ your Lord to tread,

Deeper to drink at the sweet Fountainhead,

Closer in fellowship with Him to roam,

Nearer, perhaps, to feel your Heavenly Home.

Called aside—

Oh, knowledge deeper grows with Him alone;

In secret oft His deeper love is shown,

And learned in many an hour of dark distress

Some rare, sweet lesson of His tenderness.

Called aside—

We thank You for the stillness and the shade;

We thank You for the hidden paths Your love has made,

And, so that we have wept and watched with Thee,

We thank You for our dark Gethsemane.

Called aside—

O restful thought—He doeth all things well;

O blessed sense, with Christ alone to dwell;

So in the shadow of Your cross to hide,

We thank You, Lord, to have been called aside.

~ John Ruskin

Joy can come from the simplest and most attainable things, not the least of which is a new way of thinking: Not set aside. Called aside. ​

David

How to Carve a Duck

Carolyn and I met Phipps Festus Bourne in 1995 in his shop in Mabry Hill, Virginia. Bourne, who died in 2002, was a master wood carver whose carvings are almost exact replicas of real objects.

When asked how he managed to carve such lifelike ducks, Bourne replied,  “Carving a duck is simple. You just look at a piece of wood, get it in your head what a duck looks like and then cut off everything that doesn’t look like it.”

So it is with God. He looks at you and me, envisions what a gracious, God-like woman or man looks like and then begins to painstakingly carve away everything that does not conform to that image.  If we could but see ourselves when God is finished with his artistry, it would take our breath away.

But first we must put ourselves in his hands. We must give ourselves to Him fully without reservation, nothing withheld, our wills conformed to his own. In practice that means we must be willing to do the very next thing he asks us to do. If we accept the task he will give us the grace to comply. “The one who calls you is faithful and He will do it” (2 Thessalonians 5:).

Then he will give us another task and then another. I don’t know what he will ask you to do, but it will be the very best thing you could do and in due time you will begin to think and act as he does.

Do you long for that likeness? Put yourself in the Master Carver’s hands.

DHR

Let the beauty of Jesus be seen in me—

All his wonderful passion and purity!

O Thou Spirit divine, all my nature refine,

Til the beauty of Jesus be seen in me.

                                —Tom Jones