Growing Eyes

I took a walk on Spaulding's Farm the other afternoon. I saw the setting sun lighting up the opposite side of a stately pine wood. Its golden rays straggled into the aisles of the wood as into some noble hall. I was impressed as if some ancient and altogether admirable and shining family had settled there in that part of the land called Concord, unknown to me,—to whom the sun was servant,—who had not gone into society in the village,—who had not been called on. I saw their park, their pleasure-ground, beyond through the wood, in Spaulding's cranberry-meadow. The pines furnished them with gables as they grew. Their house was not obvious to vision; their trees grew through it. I do not know whether I heard the sounds of a suppressed hilarity or not. They seemed to recline on the sunbeams. They have sons and daughters. They are quite well. The farmer's cart-path, which leads directly through their hall, does not in the least put them out,—as the muddy bottom of a pool is sometimes seen through the reflected skies. They never heard of Spaulding, and do not know that he is their neighbor,—notwithstanding I heard him whistle as he drove his team through the house. Nothing can equal the serenity of their lives. Their coat of arms is simply a lichen. I saw it painted on the pines and oaks. Their attics were in the tops of the trees. They are of no politics. There was no noise of labor. I did not perceive that they were weaving or spinning. Yet I did detect, when the wind lulled and hearing was done away, the finest imaginable sweet musical hum,—as of a distant hive in May, which perchance was the sound of their thinking. They had no idle thoughts, and no one without could see their work, for their industry was not as in knots and excrescences embayed… But I find it difficult to remember them. They fade irrevocably out of my mind even now while I speak and endeavor to recall them, and recollect myself. It is only after a long and serious effort to recollect my best thoughts that I become again aware of their cohabitancy. If it were not for such families as this, I think I should move out of Concord. 

This is an extract from an essay by Henry David Thoreau entitled “Walking,” in which he plays with the idea of “cohabitancy,” the counterintuitive notion that two realms of reality can exist in the same space at the same time. 

It’s a curious and compelling fact that studies in theoretical physics suggest that there may indeed be unobservable, parallel universes as real as our own existing all around us, intermingled with us as parallel realities. “We’ve established that space, time, matter and energy engage in a behavioral repertoire unlike anything any of us have directly witnessed. And now, penetrating analysis of these and other related discoveries are leading us to what may be the next upheaval in understanding: the possibility that our universe is not the only universe” (Brian Greene in the Introduction to The Hidden Reality: Parallel Universes and the Deep Laws of the Cosmos, p. 2). 

Greene goes on to state a more starling fact that studies in string theory indicate that our universe is directly influenced by events taking place in that alternate universe, the projection “of processes taking place on some distant surface that surrounds us” (The Hidden Reality, P. 8).

So…what if our world does share space with another unseen, parallel world? What if our universe is “directly influenced by events taking place in that alternate universe”? 

Bless my soul there is an unseen world all around us. Some call it “heaven.” 

We know very little about heaven, for little has been revealed. Perhaps that’s because there are no words to describe this world and no analogies for it in our experience. One thing does seem certain, however: heaven is not “up there” or “over yonder,” but all around us, another realm of reality, invisible but as real as ours! We could see it if we only had eyes to “see.” 

Read the story of Elisha and his disciple at Dothan (2 Kings 6). The disciple awakened in the morning, looked over the wall and discovered to his dismay that “an army with horses and chariots had surrounded the city.” He ran to alert Elisha and cried out in despair, “Oh, my lord, what shall we do?” “Don't be afraid,” Elisha replied. “There are more of us than there are of them.” (Or words to that effect.)

Then Elisha prayed, “Lord, open his eyes so he may see.” So the Lord opened the young man’s eyes and he “saw the hills full of horses and chariots of fire…” He saw the invisible legions of heaven gathered for his protection, against which Syria’s forces were powerless. He had not seen them, but they had been there all along. 

So…keep your eyes open; help is all around you, invisible to normal sight, but as close as they can be. “The chariots of God are tens of thousands and thousands upon thousands” (Psalm 68:17). There are more of us than there are of them!

David Roper

“Continue in My Love”

 

"Keep yourselves in the love of God..." Jude 21

 

On cold days our old dog used to find a sunny spot in the backyard and stretch out on the grass—keeping herself in the warmth of the sun. So we must keep ourselves in the love of God. 

 

This doesn’t mean that we must act in extraordinary ways to elicit God's love, because we're loved no matter what we do. Or fail to do. It means instead that we should bask in love’s radiance and warmth all day long. We should think about its extravagant dimensions: “experience its breadth, test its length, and plumb its depths!” (Ephesians 3:18,19 The Message)

 

God says, “I have loved you with everlasting love” (Jeremiah 31:3). He loved us before we were born, he loves us now, and he will love us after we die (Psalm 103:4). This is our denouement: to be loved and loved and loved—forever. “

 

St. John describes himself as "the disciple Jesus loved." Jesus loved the other disciples, of course (even Judas), but John marveled and reveled in the thought that Jesus loved him! It was his mantra.” I am the disciple Jesus loves!”

 

"As the Father hath loved me, so have I loved you”; Jesus said. “Continue in my love” (John 15:9).Remind yourself each morning: “I am the disciple that Jesus loves!" Let his love flow into your heart. Thus, may you keep yourself in His love.

 

David Roper

4.3.19

Behold the Man!

“One of the soldiers pierced his side with a spear, and at once there came out blood and water. He who saw it has borne witness—his testimony is true, and he knows that he is telling the truth..." (John 19:34,35).

In the providence of God, John, standing at the foot of the cross, saw something that others may not have seen: When the soldier pierced Jesus side with his spear, blood and water flowed out of the wound. John swore it was true. He saw it with his own eyes! 

Why was this sighting significant? It indicated that Jesus was an authentic, flesh and blood man. On another occasion, John wrote similarly, "This is he who came (a reference to the incarnation) by water and blood" (1John 5:6-8). Jesus was a material man, just like you and me.

And yet he was God! Not a half-god, half-man hybrid, but one who, though fully man, was fully God. 

In the 5th century, a council at Chalcedon (a city in Asia Minor) struggled to hammer out a creedal statement that would validate this logical "fallacy" (It violates the Law of Noncontradiction). The participants in the council could not explain the phenomenon; they could only state it: “We confess that in these latter times the only begotten Son of God appeared in two natures, without confusion, without division, without change, without separation, the distinction of natures not having been taken away by the union.” 

This formulation is helpful to some, I suppose, though I must say it's cold comfort to me. For me, the incarnation, though a profound mystery, means that Jesus, because he was a man, thoroughly understands my discouragements.

Picture this: Jesus standing before an angry mob, a broken man. "Ecce homo!" Pilate shouts to the crowd. "Behold the man!” Exactly. Not a super-human Olympian god, but a weary, disheartened man. Just like me. If that were not true he would be of no help to me this morning. 

Another writer said this: "(Jesus has been through everything we've been through.) Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need" (Hebrews 4:15,16).

David Roper

3.25.19

Open Wide!

I am the LORD your God,

who brought you up out of the land of Egypt.

Open your mouth wide, and I will fill it. —Psalm 81:10

I read this verse today and thought of mornings long ago when our boys were very small and we had to spoon feed them. (Failing that, though each child tried very hard to get the meal into his mouth, most of it wound up smeared all over his face, in his hair, in his ears, on his tray, on the floor and all over us.) Here, I picture God picking up a spoon and saying, "Here comes the little red train down the little track; Choo. Choo. Choo. Open wide."

If the first two lines of the verse sound familiar it's because they are a direct quote from the preamble to the Ten Commandments: “I am the LORD your God, who brought you up out of Egypt."Thou shalt not; thou shalt not; thou not..." (Exodus 20:2). 

Here in this psalm, however, where we expect to find another set of rules, God makes this offer: “Open your mouth wide and I will fill it."

Israel's history, like mine, is a tale of underachievement, yet God does not call for greater effort. He rather asks us to lay our "doing" down, open our hearts wide and receive what He longs to give us.

Trying to keep a bunch of rules and make ourselves better is a lzero-sum game. I know because I tried it for years. God alone is the source of goodness for God alone is good. We must ask for his righteousness and keep on asking. "Ask and it will be given to you" Jesus said (Matthew 7:7). It's a promise. 

Long, long ago, on the cross, Jesus did away with our wrong-doing. Now He lives to make us good children. If we "open our mouths wide" He will, in good time, fill us with love, joy, peace, patience, and all the other virtues we admire in Jesus and seek for ourselves. He will feed us with the "finest of wheat," and satisfy us with "honey from the rock" (Psalm 81:16). 

Cream of wheat and wild honey. YUM. Open wide!

Weary, working, burdened one,

Wherefore toil you so?

Cease your doing; all was done

Long, long ago.

—James Proctor

David Roper

Why the Caged Bird Sings

No, no, no, no! Come let’s away to prison:

We two alone will sing like birds i’ th’ cage;

When thou dost ask me blessing, I’ll kneel down

And ask of thee forgiveness. So we’ll live

And pray, and sing, and tell old tales, and laugh

At gilded butterflies, and hear poor rogues

Talk of court news; and we’ll talk with them too--

Who loses and who wins; who’s in, who’s out--

And take upon ‘s the mystery of things

As if we were God’s spies; and we’ll wear out,

In a wall’d prison, pacts and sects of great ones,

That ebb and flow by th’ moon.

—Shakespeare, King Lear V.iii.8-19

Cordelia, King Lear’s daughter, was determined to fight the injustice visited upon her father, but Lear had no fear of prison. Though confined by weakness and frailty, his spirit was free. “Let's away to prison,” he says. “We two alone will sing like birds i’ th’ cage.”

Lear is my kind of geezer: Laughing the laughter of pure delight. Chuckling over gilded butterflies and other beautiful things that God has given us out of pure love. Talking of court news—“who wins, who loses, who’s in who’s out.” Keeping up, refusing to become stodgy and isolated. Aware of the “ebb and flow of pacts and sects of poor rogues”—uncontaminated by contempt for them, but rather interceding for them.

Living, praying, singing, telling “old tales”—the ancient truths, the deep things of God. Analyzing, revealing the mystery of things present and things to come, “wearing out” those who have no truth to live by.

Though limited in strength and endurance, confined in space we can be “God’s spies,” subverting a culture that does not know the One who loves us and gave Himself for us. 

We know why the caged bird sings. 

David Roper

3.21.18

The Terrible Speed of Mercy

Here lies Martin Elginbrod

Have mercy on my soul, Lord God

As I would do were I Lord God

And Thou were Martin Elginbrod

—Epitaph

"The saying is trustworthy and deserving of full acceptance, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners, of whom I am the foremost. But I have received mercy..." (1Timothy 1:15,16a).

Years ago, I read a story about a fractious congregational meeting in which a young man rose to his feet and shouted “I demand my rights!" An elderly gentleman seated in the pew behind him, tugged on his shirt tail and muttered, “Sit down, son. If you had your rights you'd be in hell.“

Exactly. If God gave me what I rightfully deserve I would be in one of the nine circles of Dante's Inferno. "But I have received mercy."

That thought clears my head when I think that I'm entitled to the good life, or at least one better than the one I have. No, my salvation and every other good thing that comes my way is mine not because I deserve it, but because "I have received mercy." 

How then can I be angry at friends who disappoint me when it's by God's mercy that I have any friends at all? 

How can I be embittered by those who misrepresent me when it's by God's mercy that I have a reputation to uphold? 

How can I envy old folks that enjoy better health than I when it's solely by God's mercy that I enjoy the measure of health that I have?

No, if I got what I deserved I'd be in pure hell. But, thank God, through the Cross, "I have received mercy.

As I wrote this morning I thought of Flannery O’Connor’s would-be hellfire and damnation prophet, Francis Marion Tarwater, who received his long-awaited commission from a burning bush: “Go warn the children of God of the terrible speed of God's mercy.” 

As Miss O’Connor herself might say, “May God strike us down that-away.”

David Roper

2.19.19

How Come?

"And his disciples asked him, ‘Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?’ Jesus answered, ‘It was not that this man sinned, or his parents, but that the works of God might be displayed in him’" (John 9:2,3).

Most of us want to assign a cause to our troubles. Karma? Kismet? Chaos? Who or what has saddled us with affliction?  

Jesus' disciples, akin to us and caught up in their own logical, cause-effect world wanted a reason for this man’s unfortunate lot in life: “Who sinned?” It had to be his fault. Or his parents’. 

“God has something up his sleeve!” That’s the only explanation Jesus gave his disciples and all we need to know.

Perhaps God is doing something in us, or through us through affliction. Perhaps we'll be delivered from our troubles to the greater glory of God. Perhaps Satan and his minions are watching and waiting for us to fold. Perhaps we're simply the victims of a fallen, broken world. Who knows? 

God does: There’s a reason for everything that comes our way. But we cannot know God’s rational. Ours is not the know the reason why. Ours is to trust and rest in His infinite wisdom and love. We’ll know all the reasons by and by. 

In acceptance lieth peace...

O my heart be still;

Let thy restless worries cease

And accept His will.

Though this test be not thy choice,

It is His—therefore rejoice. 

David Roper

3.18.19