Flowers

Old John Keble has written a poem about flowers—”relics of Eden’s bowers”—their “silent lessons undescried (undiscovered) by all but lowly eyes.” Put simply, there is a message enshrined in flowers that we may discover if we’re humble enough to consider them. Thus, Keble assures us, “as we gaze, we know.” He continues...

“Alas! of thousand bosoms kind,

   That daily court you and caress,

How few the happy secret find

   Of your calm loveliness!

"Live for today! tomorrow's light

Tomorrow's cares shall bring to sight,

Go sleep like closing flowers at night,

   And Heaven thy morn will bless.”

Thousands of our kind (folks like you and me) delight in flowers: We "court and caress them." But, few find the happy secret of their untroubled demeanor and loveliness: Flowers do not borrow tomorrow's troubles, but live and bloom for the day and let tomorrow, bring tomorrow’s cares to light. They fall asleep each night and leave tomorrow for Heaven to bless (Cf., Psalm 4:8).

Thus we should "consider the lilies of the field," as Jesus said, for “as we gaze, we know” (Please read Matthew 6:28-34).[1]

DHR

[1] For Keble, the entire visible world consists of images of the invisible and the Bible supplies the key to that imagery. Accordingly we can ask God to...

Help us, each hour, with steadier eye

To search the deepening mystery:

The wonders of Thy sea and sky.

“Fish!”

“As no man is born an artist, so no man is born an angler.”

—Izzak Walton

A number of years ago my sons and I enjoyed several days drifting and fishing the Madison River in Montana with two fishing guides who served as our boatmen. 

The guide I drew was a man who had lived on the river all of his life and knew where the big trout held. (And probably knew their names!)  He was a taciturn man—spoke scarcely two-dozen words in all the time he was with us—but his few words enlivened my days. Let me explain. 

We were fishing with small flies in choppy water, and my eyesight is not what it used to be. I was missing most of the takes. In due course, my guide, who was not only silent, but the very soul of patience, began to alert me by murmuring, “fish” when he saw a trout rising under my fly. When I heard his cue, I lifted the tip of my rod and...Voilà! A trout on the end of my line!

I’ve often thought of that guide, the river, and the great and mysterious opportunities that come my way every day—men and women, boys and girls, circling around me, searching for that elusive "something" for which their souls crave—serendipitous occasions to show love and speak of the hope that is in me, opportunities I will miss if not alerted. 

May the Great Angler, who knows every heart, whisper “fish” in my ears all through this day and may I have ears to hear (Luke 5:9,10).

DHR

From a friend...

On Aging

                       All we like sheep have gone astray, we’re told,

                       By self-deceit we’ve chosen our own way,

                       The price for such conceit that we must pay

                       Is dear, as youth defers to growing old.

                       Quietly it comes, a cruel thief, swift

                       Flowing current bearing former glories

                       Of body, mind, and soul away.  Stories

                       Of coming bliss, cherished long, now bereft

                       Of hope.  Where is the wisdom, gracious God,

                       In granting this foe such power to leave

                       Alive those who long ago stopped living?

                       Such wisdom confounds mere settlers of sod,

                       And yet by far more aweful to conceive –

                       Wisdom that in love keeps on forgiving.

                                                                     Brook Thelander

                                                                          

The Things That Matter

By George Herbert

Could not that wisdom, which first broacht[1] the wine,

        Have thicken’d it with definitions?

And jagg’d[2] his seamless coat, had that been fine,

        With curious questions and divisions?

But all the doctrine, which he taught and gave,

        Was clear as heav’n, from whence it came.

At least those beams of truth, which only save,

        Surpass in brightness any flame.

Love God, and love your neighbor. Watch and pray.

        Do as ye would be done unto.

O dark instructions; ev’n as dark as day!

        Who can these Gordion knots undo?

Could not the wisdom that "broacht" (opened) the wine at Cana have supplied an explanation for the miracle and “thickened it with definitions”? Jesus could have explained the miracle to the guests at Cana, but chose not to, nor has he explained everything else that puzzles us. The universe is shrouded in paradox, contradiction and mystery— things beyond our ken. There are limitations to the human intellect that cannot be overcome.

The longer I live, my list of certainties grows correspondingly shorter. There are absolutes for which I would go to the wall—most of which are contained in the Apostles Creed—but much is mystery to me. I ponder these puzzles periodically, but they don’t bother me anymore. Some things are very clear; some things are not.

This is the sentiment echoed by George MacDonald’s father in a letter to his son about the long-standing, divisive debate over God’s sovereignty and our free will: “[I cannot] bear to see that which is evidently gospel mystery torn to pieces by those who believe that there is no mystery in the Scriptures and therefore attempt to explain away what it is evidently for the honor of God to conceal. I see so much of mystery in nature, and so much of it in myself, that it would be proof to my mind that the Scriptures were not from God were there nothing in them beyond the grasp of my own mind.” [3]

That being said, our Lord did not leave us in the dark with regard to things that matter, but has given instruction that is “clear as heav’n from whence it came.” He has revealed “beams of truth, which only save (sanctify).” These he enumerates: “To love God, and love your neighbor. Watch and pray. Do as ye would be done unto”—simple directives Herbert describes, with subtle irony, as Gordion knots,[4] and “dark instructions; ev’n as dark as day!” To love God and my neighbor, to watch and to pray—things I know I should do. This is the more excellent way.

Mark Twain said, “It’s not the things I don’t understand in the Bible that concern me, but the things I do understand.” Exactly. It is my prayer that I, at last, may do the things that matter.[5]

DHR

---

[1] broacht: opened

[2] jagg’d: torn

[3] In a letter to his son, May 31, 1850

[4] The Gordian Knot is a legend associated with Alexander the Great and is a metaphor for an intractable problem. The irony lies in the fact that this “knot” can be untied by anyone and the darkness of these instructions is “as dark as day(light).”

[5] Cf., Philippians 1:10. Paul’s verb, diaphero, here translated “matter,” means, “to make a difference.”

The Road Gone By

0 Father of light and leading,

From the top of each rising hill

Let me cast my eye on the road gone by

To mark the steps of Thy will!

For the clouds that surround the present

Shall leave this heart resigned,

When joy appears in the path of tears

That led through the days behind.

—George Matheson

  

God’s will is better seen in retrospect than in prospect, or so it seems to me. It’s by casting our “eye on the road gone by” that we “mark the steps of (his) will.”

God has an itinerary for each of us, a “course” that we must run.[1] Our route is charted in the councils of heaven and rooted in the sovereign purposes of God. Yet our choices are not irrelevant. We make decisions every day, large and small, many of which have life-altering consequences. The question then—forgoing the confounding mystery of God’s sovereignty and human free will—is this: How can we, in our choices, suitably reflect his will?

The answer is clear to me, now that I’m older and have more of the past to see. It is by looking back that I see my Father’s guiding hand: Love and Wisdom have led me all the way. With old Jacob I can truthfully say, “God has been my shepherd all my life to this day.”[2]

So…though clouds “surround the present” and much uncertainty lies ahead, my heart is duly resigned. The “Father of light and leading” will be faithful to show me the way. My task is to follow Him in love and obedience, and leave the next step to Him.

And how will I know the next step?

I do not know. I do know, however, that I shall know it when I need to know. On what basis can I have that assurance? By dwelling on “the road gone by.”

DHR

---

[1] Cp., Acts 20:24  and 2 Timothy 4:7 Paul’s word, dromon, means “a race course.”

[2] Genesis 48:15

Doubt

Sometimes it seems pure natural to trust,

And trust right largely, grandly, infinitely,

Daring the splendour of the giver’s part;

At other times, the whole earth is but dust,

The sky is dust, yea, dust the human heart;

Then art thou nowhere, there is no room for thee

In the great dust-heap of eternity.

—George MacDonald

John the Baptist was languishing in prison when he heard of the works of Jesus. He sent two of his disciples to ask, “Are You the Coming One, or do we look for another?” (Matthew 11:2,3).

Jesus answered: “Go and tell John the things which you hear and see: The blind see and the lame walk; the lepers are cleansed and the deaf hear; the dead are raised up and the poor have the gospel preached to them. And blessed is he who is not offended because of Me” (Matthew 11:5,6).

Jesus’ citation is a conflation of two passages from the Prophet Isaiah concerning the mighty works of the Messiah: “Then the eyes of the blind shall be opened, and the ears of the deaf shall be unstopped” (Isaiah 35: 5); “The LORD has anointed Me to preach good tidings to the poor; He has sent Me to heal the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to those who are bound.” (Isaiah 61:1).

Jesus plainly asserts that his works confirm that he is Israel’s Messiah, but most significant is the omission of the line, “and the opening of the prison to those who are bound.” Jesus did not promise that John would be delivered from prison and indeed he did not, for he died there, beheaded by the maniacal King Herod.

Here is John’s dark night of the soul, a period of unhappiness and skepticism in which he wonders if it’s been worthwhile to leave everything to find and follow Jesus. Who, if we’re true to ourselves, has not harbored that thought?

Some individuals live in their heads; they’re born with a questioning, inquiring spirit and the dark unhappiness of doubt. They are predisposed to skepticism; it’s the way they are, the way God made them. Other’s doubts are born of argument: a comment by a respected, but unbelieving university professor, a careless word spoken by a friend, an article in a magazine or on the internet, reflecting the spirit of this age. Or doubt may come through unrelieved suffering. All these inducements give logic to unbelief. What then can we do when “doubt swells and surges, with swelling doubt behind”?

We can take comfort in the thought that doubt is not displeasing to God. He commended John in the face of his doubt and disillusionment: “Among those born of women there has not one greater than John the Baptist” (Matthew 11:11). God knows how frail and fragile our faith can be. He is wonderfully compassionate, and infinitely patient with our misgivings. He himself struggled with disappointment and was tempted in all points as we are. “A smoking flax he will not extinguish.” He understands like no other.

We can turn doubt into action. We can take up the very next duty—­we know what it is—the very next thing God is asking us to do. We can turn away from the things that debase us, win back what we have lost. Like Mother Teresa, who, if we can belief her biographers, floundered in doubt and despair in her final years, we can live a life of service in the midst of our uncertainty. No matter how dark things seem to be there is truth to be lived and, though it seems odd, sheer obedience can begin to restore our faith. As Jesus said, “If anyone chooses to do God’s will, he will find out whether my teaching comes from God or whether I speak on my own.”[1]

We can pray, for nothing is of ourselves, not even faith. Faith is a gift of God. [2]  “I believe; help me overcome my unbelief!” is the cry of an honest skeptic.[3]

Finally, we can ponder Peter’s response when Jesus asked his disciples if they would go away: “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the only message that results in eternal life.”[4] 

DHR

---

[1] John 7:17

[2] Ephesians 2:8,9

[3] Mark 9:24

[4] John 6:68

What I would say to Bill Maher…

I’m intrigued by Bill Maher’s occasional rants against Christians. In all fairness, he’s usually targeting religious extremists, but I know from other comments Maher has made about Christianity that he deeply resents the Church. (“Pope Benedict is a Nazi.”) However, as someone has said, “Behind every argument there is a person and behind every person there is a story.”

In my heart I believe that strong arguments against God are rooted in moral issues. They are contrivances to stave off a deeper reality—an action or attitude that we know is wrong, but are determined to continue. Scripture is very clear about that (Ephesians 5:17-19; 2 Thessalonians 2:10,11; Psalms 14.1 [The “fool” here is not an ignoramus. The Hebrew word, nabal, refers to someone who is morally obtuse.]). Simply put, if people "love the truth,“ they may have questions and doubts, but they won’t jettison the faith, or rail against it, as Maher does. If they have a shadow life, cynicism, denial and even humor become convenient ways to deal with the moral tension they feel. Again, I’m not speaking here of those who struggle in their faith, but of those who have seen the truth and have turned their faces away from it.

True seekers will ”work it out“ as C.S. Lewis, Augustine, Dostoevsky, Dorothy Sayers and a host of other thoughtful men and women have done. That doesn’t mean that all their questions are answered, but they learn to live with ambiguity. My wife, Carolyn, is a good example of a very intelligent person who early on struggled with questions of faith and who is still trying to “work it out." She has a many questions she can’t answer, but she lives with mystery and loves God with all her heart.

So, I say—unbelief is a matter of the heart and not the intellect. ”The heart has reasons (for and against the truth) that reason doesn’t have,“ Pascal said.

Now, if I had an opportunity to sit down with Maher, I wouldn’t make morality an issue, but it would keep me from being intimidated by his tirades. I know what the issues are and, more importantly, I know that he knows. I would ask questions and listen without a great deal of comment. I would try to show love by demonstrating a genuine interest in him. I don’t think I would respond with counter–arguments. I would listen and ask questions and then listen some more. I would want to know why he feels the way he does. But primarily I would want to show love, rather than argumentative animosity.

I’ve always been touched by Dostoevsky’s parable of the Grand Inquisitor. Ivan, the unbelieving brother, tells the story of the Inquisitor and his tirade against the Church and its faith. Jesus throughout the Inquisitor’s rant remains absolutely silent until the end. He doesn’t answer with arguments; he leans over and kisses him. ”The kiss glowed in his heart,” Dostoevsky observed. As Ivan finishes his parable, Alyosha, in imitation of Jesus, leans forward and kisses his brother. Ivan tries to shrug off Alyosha’s love but he can’t. His "profound gesture“ (Dostoevsky’s phrase) represents the triumph of love over radical skepticism. There’s no logical argument against it.

Simply put, if I had an opportunity to talk to Bill Maher, I would try to show love for him, for love has the power to melt the hardest heart. Later, in time, when love has ”won the right to be heard,“ as we used to say in Young Life, I might give him a New Testament and ask him to read the Gospels with this simple prayer: "God, if you’re real, I want you to reveal yourself to me,“ for “the Lord is near to all who call upon Him, to all who call upon Him in truth” (Psalm 145:18). If Maher is indeed a seeker of truth, as he claims to be, he will find God in its pages; if not he will not. It’s that simple.

DHR