Enrapture

I am often startled by the dawn.  I awake in the deep dark of night with coffee and the Ancient of Days and His Word and sit with focused light as is my habit.  I will raise my head and look out into the night for any hint of light and finding none return to my mediations.  On occasion, I will be engrossed and dawn will begin without my notice.  At some point, I will raise my eyes and at that moment I am carried away with the rapture of the profound kindness of the light of dawn.  My view these days has dramatically changed from the deep woods of our beloved back porch to the long view and big sky of our dorm room.  But the result remains the same; a seminal experience of the Glory of God, His earth has once again turned toward His Star and my darkness has become day.   

  

BLM vs. ALM, The Rumble in the Jungle

I have been watching Muhammad Ali, Ken Burns's film on PBS.  It reminded me so much of how much we seemed to have lost.  Long before there was President Obama, who I never really cared for, there was Cassius Clay, who, along with Joe Namath and my father, shaped the world of my youth.  I can remember my dad taking me down to Cherokee Hardware in Athens Tennessee and letting me buy my first white football cleats.  I was in the 7th grade and Joe Namath had won the Super Bowl two years earlier wearing his iconic white cleats.  Likewise, I can remember sitting with my dad and listening on the radio as Cassius Clay now Mahammad Ali had his first great fight with Joe Frazier wearing his iconic white silk robe, boxing trunks, along with white boxing shoes.  These were the two great heroes of my youth.  But my dad was so much more because he allowed them to be my hero’s even though they did not model the faith he held so sacred.  The same sacred faith led him to always live out in front of me the truth that all humans are made in the image of God and therefore all were worthy of our care and even hero status, for a young boy who lived to dream of being a sports star one day.  Long before BLM my father lived ALM including the heroes of his son.   

    

Sailing Bells are Ringing

I have lived and moved all over, parsonages to and fro across the south, flopped down and washed up on mean shores through my early manhood, a sailing rack in the navy, and then Grace upon glory I met my lover and in that process, I met my Savior, Christ the King and the three of us made a home for our family.  A home here, a home there, and then the home we have lived in 25 years, longer than any other in my life.  Today that home passes to another and I write from a college dorm room looking out over fields and trees yellowing with fall, a transitional hearth until we can build in our beloved East Tennessee.  Our old home lies across town completely empty, not a sound, no lover making warm, no children growing, no laughter or heartache, no art…empty.  Oh but the memory that sweet half acre holds, deep in the wood, brick, and earth, cried in, bled in, life consummated, truly consummated.  At 4p.m. today we will sign her away to a young couple, 20 somethings, to see what our home will make of them.  She’s like a good ship, true lines, solid, beam and stern align, sails slack now in dock but still seaworthy as we disembark.  What a wonderful voyage she has brought us through, the good ship Countrywood, the ship that carried us safely into our old age.  Now on to Fair Haven.  Her sailing bells are ringing.   

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DQYNM6SjD_o

   

Itinerarium Mea Cor in Deum

This morning finds me where I am been for almost 40 years, sitting in front of a kiln.  For a few years in the beginning, I sat alone not understanding that I was at the “burning bush”, a sure sign of something Devine.  But I did learn, the fire drawing me in, the roar, the beauty being made not consumed.  Now I sit, old and worn, with Him, with His Word, His coffee, His prayers, His fire and understand I am into Holy Ground; *Itinerarium Mentis in Deum—the journey of the mind or soul into God.  It is really Itinerarium Mea Cor in Deum—the journey of my heart into God.  God’s earth, water, fire, air, and me; a morning being!  

*The Creed, by Bishop Robert Barron https://creed.wordonfire.org/watchepisode1

You Better Know Who Has An A Game

It is on again.  Classes begin.  It is a joy to begin class, a chore in many ways thereafter but, throughout, it is a task of connecting humans to God, and there is a great meaning.  Even in the most secular classroom overseen by the most suspicious there is no denying that Art is a Devine enterprise.  Art and beauty go hand and hand with that which we cannot prove but we all know; life on earth is the most grand experience conceivable on earth.  That is the goal and often the result of Art/beauty; clarifying that reality.  If you believe you will make and have an overwhelming desire to teach others of the “great pearl” you have found; God connecting Himself to you. 

 

The Party's Over?

The party’s over.  I awake in a hotel and am relieved.  I will readily admit I do better on a mountain top than under the big top.  But boy howdy was it a shindig, over the top, an event not to miss.  Even God got involved as a slight shower turned into warm sunshine just as the groom kissed his new bride and then a black storm came pouring over the top of the mountains like a massive waterfall and it poured just as everyone had gotten under the tent.  And the party began!!! a Motown band played favorite soul tunes from the ’60s and ’70s, everyone was shaking everything they had or could get to shake and the wine and food came non-stop.  Joyous exuberance would be an understatement.  When the Scots get to partying they get to partying.  I’ll give them this, they got stamina, I have never seen so many people dancing the light fandango since my high school prom.  My lover and I finally threw in our linen napkin and called it a night.  We collapsed in my old Ford, took a breather, adjusted our gown and tux, and laughed at how old we have grown.  We drove off into the night, across the bridge, over the dam and stopped one last time to look back at the tent and could hear the needle still in the soulful grooving playlist of our youth and knew—the party is never really over.  God is good.  God is great.  Let us thank Him. 

The party is never over in God's good world.

A Grand Soiree

It is good for an old country Baptist to attend a grand party every now and then especially if it is a wedding much like the one at Canaan.  My lover and I are at just such an event.  Deep in the southern Appalachians, at a grand Scottish Country Club surrounded by beautiful golf courses, stately mansions, and mountainous glory that continually remind you that God’s wealth is unmatchable.  Last night was the rehearsal dinner, silver, china, fine glass; mighty timbers, wood floors, old art, and the most beautiful people.  The wine flowed freely, the conversation lively, toasts in abundance as the bride and groom’s character was upheld and applauded by all with the tinging touch of fine glass filled with the best reds and whites.  And Christ was there, invited at the start and several times throughout the evening His presence was acknowledged by His rightful title, Lord, Christ, Savior, Jesus.  By the end, many were flushed with wine and joy and my heart was filled with sincerity for the beauty of humanity's ability to celebrate…and all along I escorted the most beautifully elegant lady in the room, my lover.  Round two this evening, the wedding. 

P.S.  For you good Baptists who are wondering--I drank water.