(A reflection written on Morning #1 from the balcony at the beach of my childhood. A view from the pew can be found anywhere ... even overlooking the ocean!)
I awakened this morning
at the beach of my childhood.
Awakened by a body clock
that is most difficult to reset
and a light that was left on.
For a while, I remained in bed
thinking, “so much has changed”.
Many small cottages of my memories,
with wonderful coastal names
and towels hanging off of railings
have fallen prey to
high-rise resorts
with matching parking decks
that block the view
of the ocean
from the road.
“Sigh… so much has changed.”
So much has changed ….
No, everything has changed.
Well, everything but me.
I haven’t! No, not me …
I haven’t changed.
I arise, at the beckoning
of my body clock
and coffee …
too early for anyone,
much less anyone at the beach.
I haven’t changed.
No, not me.
I have spent the last hour
in the dark, on the balcony,
that overlooks the ocean.
Just as I do each morning,
(changeless, that I am),
with coffee in hand
I seek quiet
and peace
and God.
The fishing trawlers of last night
have long since moved on.
Sleep has silenced the sounds
of children, dogs and of seagulls.
And then,
with the touch of sea breeze
on my face,
and the constant sounds of
waves rolling in, rolling in, rolling in
and the stars above, winking at me
in the same configuration
as I remembered from my childhood,
I realized that the Creator of all,
my God, has not changed.
It is me who has changed,
for in my childhood
I would have never have heard God
in the breaking waves of the ocean,
or felt God’s touch
in the kiss of sea breeze
on my cheek.
I would never have been assured
of God’s constant Presence
in the twinkling stars that
stretch out over the skies
above the ocean.
It IS me who has changed,
yet it is God who has been
with me always.
And with this realization
of change amidst that
which is Changeless …
at that very moment,
I saw a falling star.
So much has changed,
since my childhood …
not in the vastness of the ocean
or in the cool morning’s sea breeze …
not in the canopy of stars
or in the sounds of waves
or in the tide’s perfect schedule…
so much has changed,
not in the Creator of all
of what is so very constant here …
So much has changed
since my childhood memories
of this beach …
and that change isn’t so much
in the startling change of the surroundings,
but in the startling change in me.
Thanks be to God
who replaces the old
with the new …
who changes small cottage thoughts
with high-rise hopes,certainties and assurances.
“Sigh (as I smile) … so much HAS changed!
5:00 a.m.-ish
North Myrtle Beach, SC
Friday, October 22, 2010
Thursday, October 14, 2010
"Wounded and Blessed"
(Please read Genesis 32:22-31 Jacob Wrestling With God)
No gasping, please! No gasping at the thoughts of wrestling with God! I realize that some of you might not understand, on a personal level, these Scriptures. But for many others, this account of Jacob wrestling with God is very personal. There is a first-hand understanding of the clinging, wrestling perseverance of Jacob and a vivid remembrance of that “touch” of God when, in essence, God said, “Enough.” There is an overwhelming thankfulness in that holy touch that wounds a person to a point of change. In it all, there are blessings that only God can bestow.
But before there is an encounter or this wrestling type of perseverance, before there is the wounding touch of God that leads to God’s blessings, there is a time when we find ourselves face to face with God … alone. Often, the aloneness is so silent that for a while this “stranger” cannot be seen or heard in a person’s darkness. But God is there.
This aloneness, just before we recognize that we are in the presence of God, is a gift as difficult as it might prove to be. Jacob stands squarely in an empty camp. Behind him are lies, schemes, ambitions and a stolen birthright. Ahead of him are his family and all of his possessions that have become bribes for personal safety, forgiveness and reconciliation. There is nothing remaining for Jacob to control or manipulate. Nothing.
The “stranger” appears and suddenly a wrestling match begins. The One who can stop the wrestling before it begins often allows this struggle to go throughout the darkness of the night. God does not engage in this wrestling match as an overwhelming force, but as One who is powerful enough, tenacious enough, smart enough and big enough for us to realize that we have truly found ourselves wrestling with a persistent, loving and forgiving God. And so the wrestling turns to clinging. Even in our exhaustion, we don’t want to let go. Out of the depths, the cries come … “I will not let you go unless you bless me.” It is not what we cling to in life that blesses our lives, it is who we cling to that gives us a new name.
Jacob limped away a wounded, transformed and blessed man. Blessed are those who have received such a wound, for they have seen the face of God!
Most Gracious God … A friend once told me that you do indeed wound us at times and out of the wounded place, love begins to flow from us. Where there is a need for such wrestling and wounding, prepare each heart for perseverance. May we cling to you tenaciously, knowing that we will be wounded and yet trusting that we will be changed. Give us new names. O God, thank you for the assurance that you fill the wounds from your touch with the healing balm of your saving grace. Amen.
anna
No gasping, please! No gasping at the thoughts of wrestling with God! I realize that some of you might not understand, on a personal level, these Scriptures. But for many others, this account of Jacob wrestling with God is very personal. There is a first-hand understanding of the clinging, wrestling perseverance of Jacob and a vivid remembrance of that “touch” of God when, in essence, God said, “Enough.” There is an overwhelming thankfulness in that holy touch that wounds a person to a point of change. In it all, there are blessings that only God can bestow.
But before there is an encounter or this wrestling type of perseverance, before there is the wounding touch of God that leads to God’s blessings, there is a time when we find ourselves face to face with God … alone. Often, the aloneness is so silent that for a while this “stranger” cannot be seen or heard in a person’s darkness. But God is there.
This aloneness, just before we recognize that we are in the presence of God, is a gift as difficult as it might prove to be. Jacob stands squarely in an empty camp. Behind him are lies, schemes, ambitions and a stolen birthright. Ahead of him are his family and all of his possessions that have become bribes for personal safety, forgiveness and reconciliation. There is nothing remaining for Jacob to control or manipulate. Nothing.
The “stranger” appears and suddenly a wrestling match begins. The One who can stop the wrestling before it begins often allows this struggle to go throughout the darkness of the night. God does not engage in this wrestling match as an overwhelming force, but as One who is powerful enough, tenacious enough, smart enough and big enough for us to realize that we have truly found ourselves wrestling with a persistent, loving and forgiving God. And so the wrestling turns to clinging. Even in our exhaustion, we don’t want to let go. Out of the depths, the cries come … “I will not let you go unless you bless me.” It is not what we cling to in life that blesses our lives, it is who we cling to that gives us a new name.
Jacob limped away a wounded, transformed and blessed man. Blessed are those who have received such a wound, for they have seen the face of God!
Most Gracious God … A friend once told me that you do indeed wound us at times and out of the wounded place, love begins to flow from us. Where there is a need for such wrestling and wounding, prepare each heart for perseverance. May we cling to you tenaciously, knowing that we will be wounded and yet trusting that we will be changed. Give us new names. O God, thank you for the assurance that you fill the wounds from your touch with the healing balm of your saving grace. Amen.
anna
Saturday, October 2, 2010
"High Hopes"
The apostles said to the Lord, "Increase our faith!" He replied, "If you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mulberry tree, 'Be uprooted and planted in the sea,' and it will obey you. (Luke 17:5-6)
When I was a child and found myself discouraged … when I seemed to lack something, feeling as if I didn't have enough of that "whatever" within me … when I thought a task before me was impossible, I would sing to myself a wonderful little song called “High Hopes”. Surely you know the song. The lyrics are by Sammy Cahn and Jimmy Van Heusen and it was made popular by Frank Sinatra. The first portion of this song goes like this:
Just what makes that little old ant
think he'll move that rubber tree plant.
Everyone knows an ant can't
move a rubber tree plant.
But he's got high hopes,
he's got high hopes,
he's got high apple pie, in the sky hopes.
So anytime your gett'n low
stead of lett'n go
just remember that ant.
Oops, there goes another rubber tree plant.
The Scriptures found in Luke 17:5-6 take me back to that time when a child named “anna” said, "But I can't. I am just a child. I don't have enough within me". What I didn’t know how to say at the time was, “Increase my faith!” The apostles heard of the impossible. A tiny bit of faith uproots the mulberry tree and flings it, roots-first, into the sea. The child sang of the impossible. A bit of ant-sized high hopes moves a rubber tree plant.
Do you suppose that Jesus told the apostles of the mustard seed of faith and the uprooting of the mulberry tree to the tune of "High Hopes"? For the child in me, this is a delightful thought!
God of children, of apostles and of ants, of mulberry trees and of rubber tree plants, of mustard-seed-sized faith and of high hopes …. It is you who does the improbable and the impossible with our small faith. We pray that you work through the amount of faith that we have now, but O God increase our faith. Uproot and replant us when we say, “Here I am, send me.” Uproot and replant others when they hear the words of faith that you have asked us to share. Our faith is that you are always faithful. Thank you for knowing of the possibilities found within tiny ants, small children and disciples who find high hopes in you. Amen.
anna
When I was a child and found myself discouraged … when I seemed to lack something, feeling as if I didn't have enough of that "whatever" within me … when I thought a task before me was impossible, I would sing to myself a wonderful little song called “High Hopes”. Surely you know the song. The lyrics are by Sammy Cahn and Jimmy Van Heusen and it was made popular by Frank Sinatra. The first portion of this song goes like this:
Just what makes that little old ant
think he'll move that rubber tree plant.
Everyone knows an ant can't
move a rubber tree plant.
But he's got high hopes,
he's got high hopes,
he's got high apple pie, in the sky hopes.
So anytime your gett'n low
stead of lett'n go
just remember that ant.
Oops, there goes another rubber tree plant.
The Scriptures found in Luke 17:5-6 take me back to that time when a child named “anna” said, "But I can't. I am just a child. I don't have enough within me". What I didn’t know how to say at the time was, “Increase my faith!” The apostles heard of the impossible. A tiny bit of faith uproots the mulberry tree and flings it, roots-first, into the sea. The child sang of the impossible. A bit of ant-sized high hopes moves a rubber tree plant.
Do you suppose that Jesus told the apostles of the mustard seed of faith and the uprooting of the mulberry tree to the tune of "High Hopes"? For the child in me, this is a delightful thought!
God of children, of apostles and of ants, of mulberry trees and of rubber tree plants, of mustard-seed-sized faith and of high hopes …. It is you who does the improbable and the impossible with our small faith. We pray that you work through the amount of faith that we have now, but O God increase our faith. Uproot and replant us when we say, “Here I am, send me.” Uproot and replant others when they hear the words of faith that you have asked us to share. Our faith is that you are always faithful. Thank you for knowing of the possibilities found within tiny ants, small children and disciples who find high hopes in you. Amen.
anna
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