THE LONER'S CHURCH Hebrews 10:25 notwithstnding copyright Doug Blair, Waterloo ON, 2016
Un-Churched? And the morning cool and damp In the arbour echoing And sweet sleep not letting go While outside the finches sing And the church bells gaily call Many faithful to attend To delight in words of Life And to sing in thankful blend. Could I hold my own matins Touching Heaven in this rest? Could I turn the Book of blessing And feed freshly on Christ's best? Not for me the parish practice Circumstances won't permit Still the Spirit brings refreshment Smiles as I am getting it Filters error and presumption Brings this lonely heart a Friend And the rich, delightful promise Saintly fellowship the End.
Mine no cloistered nave or stained glass Mine no polished friendly pew But the same God meets me here With the birds and morning dew. Will I go out next re-charged Bringing Jesus to the street Speaking forth a Word in season Helping others Him to meet?
Jessica
Sunday afternoon On a bench in the park Friendly breeze Moderating September heat. She been to church But it was nothin Except people and practice. God was almost silent. Not the same With Lloyd gone He used to sing Big and bold With the tenors And she sittin Across an alto And smilin at her man Midst the songs of Zion. Hardly seemed like Sunday The rush all round. But here in the park Half way to the apartment There was Church. Laughter of children Ole folks slappin At the dominoes Bright colour waking in the trees Robin and goldfinch Singing and stretching For the coming trek. Jessica with eyes closed Felt His warm Hand On her face And began to speak out “I was glad
When they said unto me. Let us go into The house of the Lord. Our feet shall stand Within thy gates O Jerusalem.”
A Bonding
The Speaker regarded the chapel room full of Seniors, many in wheelchairs, some sleeping. He had been exploring the resurrection message of Psalm 16, suggesting that its promise helped Jesus win the excruciating battle of faith and surrender in Gethsemane. The man Christ Jesus stood on that promise believing that He would come through Calvary's worst. 8 I have set the LORD always before me: because he is at my right hand, I shall not be moved. 9 Therefore my heart is glad, and my glory rejoiceth: my flesh also shall rest in hope. 10 For thou wilt not leave my soul in hell; neither wilt thou suffer thine Holy One to see corruption. 11 Thou wilt shew me the path of life: in thy presence is fulness of joy; at thy right hand there are pleasures for evermore. A woman in the front row interjected with a question: “What about me? I can't go to a church because of my condition in this chair. Neither can I always come to this chapel?” “What is your name, Ma'am?” “Jane. I hope you don't mind my asking.” “Jane, God knows your situaton. He will also understand if you are reaching out to Him in the best way possible through Jesus. You have prayer, silent times, Bibles in the residence, people here who might read you a chapter or two, friends with whom to share your heart and wonder. Just put yourself alone, quietly, with Jesus.” Please remember, it's not about a building. It's about a bonding.”
All That Time Expended
I remember the television commercial where the monk-scribe was introduced to the Xerox photocopier. All those years of copying Holy Script by hand, and behold there was a rapid-fire duplicating machine! The monk looked both embarrassed and exasperated. Undoubtedly the TV viewer smirked at the irony and apparent “waste of time”. And that is how most of us regard the value of things. We look for utility, time-economy and “what's in it for me?” The poor monk, although personally benefiting from perusing the text, could have wrapped the whole thing up so much more efficiently. There might have been many other things calling for his waking hours. And also things of leisure and personal gain. Let us broaden this observation to include other voluminous and time-consuming projects of faith: Strong's Concordance of the Bible – every word and its location has been catalogued, along with Hebrew and Greek originals. Matthew Henry's Commentary on the Whole Bible – a well-considered exposition has been offered on every verse; and this by a non-conformist scholar and preacher considered outside the endorsement of the state Anglican Church. Charles Spurgeon's Treasury of David – an exposition on every verse of every one of the 150 Psalms; first by Spurgeon and then by many of the old Puritan Divines. Philip Doddridge's Harmony and Exposition of the Gospels – the Four Evangels have been aligned chronolgically in the order of the Life of our Lord, and the writer has given a personal paraphrase and enlargement on the entire text. Nave's Topical Bible – an arrangement of texts together according to common topic, and covering all of the information concerning person, place, event, doctrine, hope and warning. J. R. Miller's Come Ye Apart – A year of daily devotionals following the four Gospels chronologically through the story of Jesus' earth walk, death and resurrection. Imagine taking on such enormous assignments! And consider them in light of today's rapidly available cyber information! We just cannot countenance the investment of time. But let us consider the aroma and odours released into the human atmosphere by such corouthe story of gh nsecration. Again when one considers the unseen world of spiritual warfare, one may be brought to realize the efforts and attitudes that have mattered the most for the side of righteousness, conscience, love and light. Christ's metaphor on the potential of mustard seed faith comes to mind (Matthew 17:20). Here He is emphasizing the miraculous power of purpose that is pure, undiluted, undivided, uncompromising and focused. Mountains can be made to move. Note: All of the reference works above-cited are excellent helps for serious, enthusiastic personal study.
And So Prayer Goes
The time flew by I had named the lot Claimed their blessing In Christ's care And the Spirit's equipment. Some were ill Some were wandering Many were ably using Every one of your supplies To fight the good fight. And countries were mentioned Countries in trouble and confusion. Then I took to rehearsing Mercies come my way A peaceful upbringing Quality training A constant wife Good partner in all Delightful children Eye-opening travels Mysteries and marvels of Creation at hand Your precious Book of books And gifted eyes to Read and see. And often understand. Sufferings processed But in the palm of your hand. The syncopation of my heart To yours for the asking And oh Father, I do ask. Receiving beggar's prosperity. And now the words stop And silence expectant Brings on that new mystery of prayer. Together, available, loving. And yes Father “I love you. And it seems That I can't say it enough.� Good time to stop I guess But the ears of my little spirit Remain open. Bring on the day. In Jesus' name I ask...Amen.
Alfalfa in the Blue I took to roads Some country roads A job was pending Up a ways. A bridge to help The farmers' days And men baked in the sun. The windows down The truck ran smooth The breeze was thick With fresh mown hay. And cattle lounged Along my way. And mustard gold begun. Then came Fifth Line And turn I did To see a patchwork Table-set. Including rich Blue-violet. Alfalfa blooms fine-spun. The sight so strange To urban eyes A yield so fragile In the the winds. The Artist strokes And then rescinds His showing for just one.
Another Death
I'm sitting by the window And the evening breeze has entered And speaks of all your goodness And trials you brought me through. I'm troubled now and teary
For misdeeds I've done lately And muddy paths that I have caused Your Name to wander through. The light has oft' been precious And the closeness of my Saviour. Nowdarkness drawn around me Like a blanket of deceit. Disguised I thought, and clever Many others see me holy But I'm dirty and disgusting And I fall now at your feet. The prize you've shown is priceless And my heart cries out for pardon While the Serpent hisses softly at my side. Yes I'll kill it; wicked wavering Through this cleansing pain and penance With assurance Jesus' arms are opened wide. So pour it out dear pilgrim For new and living water And in the Vine still faithfully abide.
Church Woman, Saint in Progress
I don't know much theology The Rector is my source And he is oh so studied
And helps me keep on course. The Morning Prayer refreshing And oft' the bread and wine And words rehearsed a lifetime To tend a soul like mine. I sew and wash bazaar goods And visit frail shut-ins And gather toys and children's books To counter-act my sins. And Yule and Paschal colours Adorn our church quite well For seasons festive, Christ-filled From age to age to tell. But much is still a mystery The saving part, I mean The bloody rites, and Paul's insights Somehow cleaner than clean? And scripture makes me tremble I hardly pick it up Once suffered, Confirmation I'm trusting in the Cup. It's spiritual they tell me God's ways above all ours But we can make it pleasant With brilliant cards and flowers. So hopeful that I tally The sum of pardon's price But please, someone explain to me This “finished work� of Christ? (Hebrews chapters 9 and 10)
Come Here. I Want to See You*
Small-town Coldwater Michigan has been hit with an unthinkable phenomenon. People are reporting
that they are getting phone calls from dear, departed ones; that they are getting insights into Heaven. A real estate agent, a building contactor, a police chief, a day-care worker. All of them thrilled by repeated Friday phone calls expressing that Heaven is wonderful...no need to fear. Love is the grand pre-occupation. Imagine what happens when the media gets hold of this and the internet. Churches, politicians and businessmen prepare for the onslaught. There is also a single Father grieving over the death of his wife while he was in prison. He can hardly tolerate these reports. Oh how he would thrill to hear her voice again. His young child ponders the marvelous possibilities of the rumours. But enough of that; just harmful sensationalism. “Sully” launches a mission to disprove the whole phenomenon. Consider the book “The First Phone Call From Heaven” by best-selling author Mitch Albom. In my estimation he scores another Grand Slam in inspirational writing. I was sitting reading the book very early at a McDonald's restaurant. A well-dressed Englishman sat down beside me and flipped open his morning newspaper. Very business-like. Articles full of a recent provincial election. I attempted to engage with him about this fascinating read before me. His demeanour indicated that he did not desire conversation, and particularly about some silly fable. After two attempts, I wished him good day. Pity. There was more of redeeming value in my read than in all of that rag of half-truths and advertising that had him so mesmerized. Ears to hear, my Lord. Ears to Hear. And eyes to see... Next over to Walmart for some breakfast items. I mentioned the book again to the woman at the cash register. She listened through a good synopsis. No people in line behind. And then her response: “Sir, I was in a coma after a car accident. Vehicle totally flipped over. Should have died. While unconscious I distinctly heard my dead Mother's voice saying it is not your time Sweetheart. You will return.” Her face indicated that she was somewhat stunned at having shared the treasured experience with a total stranger. But it felt good. We thanked one another for the shared thoughts, and went about our business. ...how much Coldwater had changed since the miracles. There were complaints, head shakes, more complaints. But there was also talk about heaven. And faith. And God. There were more prayers said than in years past. More requests for forgiveness. The volunteers for soup kitchens far exceeded the need. The mattresses at churches far outnumbered the weary. (at page 178) (* first words by telephone from Alexander Graham Bell)
Harbour Piloting He was Irish and he was eloquent. He pastored a large downtown United Church in London. He held many parishioners whom I loved in the palm of his hand. But he could not pilot them safely to shore. Friends of the family had heard of the uncommon faith encounters of Doug and Hilary. They decided to cool the enthusiasm about the “born again experience” by sending a tape of one of this man's sermons to us. Everything in that message built up to the assertion that the term had only been mentioned once in scripture by Jesus in John 3, and there had been mis-translated. The Lord had not said “born again” to Nicodemus, but rather “born from above”. Yeah, so what? In either rendering from the original language it was clear that the Teacher of all teachers was saying that a second life-giving experience was essential, and that that transaction was as mysterious as the winds. But let us keep going and look at scriptures affirming this strange entrance into aceptance with God. The Psalmist said it in Psalm 51. Jeremiah said it in chapter 31. Ezekiel said it in chapter 36. John the Beloved in his Gospel said it in chapter 1. Peter the Big Fisherman said it in his First Epistle chapter 1. Paul said it in Galatians chapter 6 and in 2 Corinthians chapter 5. The anonymous writer to the Hebrews said it in chapter 8. James the brother of the Lord said it in chapter 1. There you have 8 different sources speaking to the new birth, new begetting, new creation or new covenant written upon the heart by God's own sovereign act. You see, it is not all up to us. There is tremendous hope in this fact, and particularly when the Psalmist reminds us that the Eternal One is plenteous in mercy (Psalms 86 and 103). This Irishman, this pulpit-weaver of words, will stand out in my memory as one with grand homiletics but lousy Bible comprehension and delivery (hermeneutics). Friends, beware of enticing words and agendas of men. A Texas preacher, far less sophisticated, by the name of Bert Clendenning told an arresting story coming from an unforgettable dream. He saw a handsome young man walking across a frightening area of burning ground. He had a look of grim determination upon his face. He would stop and reach down and pull up a head out the flames, examine it, then put it back down and try again. The dreamer had the impression that the place represented Hell. He asked the young man about his purpose. “I am looking for the preacher who steered me wrong. He's gotta be here too.” (Note: The term “pilot” in this context has always fascinated me. Perhaps it started with reading the book Sky Pilot released in the early 1900's by a Canadian Prairies preacher and author using the pen name Ralph Connor. He offered some of the earliest and best of so-called Christian fiction. In the story a young minister/missionary comes to beautiful Alberta foothills cattle country where he lovingly and meekly changes hardened lives with honest renderings of the Gospel.) Psalm 107: 23-31
Mountain God
Not changing With shifting winds. Cupping the sunrise As a thing Flashing forth Only by your consent. Source of waters In highland streams Where small Scampering things Greet new day’s warmth. Seeming source Of tympanic thunders Arsenal of bolts Of shocking power. Singer of mystic Night wind’s tunes. There in upward haunts Your haunts Long before the fathers. Halting our present breath With steep inclines, Testing the might Of leg and limb. Pausing to cradle Dwarfish alpen blossoms Hidden thawing beauties Delighting, perhaps, You alone. We look up to you And seek understanding.
Mountain God Our God…forever. (Psalm 48)
“Something is amiss Child, and you know it. You tell yourself that all of the recent activity has been necessary. Just being responsible, you say. And the clock hands go around. And you are weary. But you know the solution. It is at the well. That well is some quiet place and time. Bible in hand, you address me in intimate terms of Father. You ask to hear something, to feel something, to experience re-charge. Perhaps you are led to the Book. Prayer seems more real and urgent. And I will show up, and I will supply. The smile returns. The head again held high. The song coming once more to the heart. 'Twas not I who had left.”