The Good Old Earth

Morning musings, Rev. 12.16, "But the earth came to the help of the woman; it opened its mouth and swallowed the river the dragon had poured from its mouth."

Caught my attention, this reference to earth.
Good old earth, dear old earth.
Coming to the defense of the woman.
Swallowing the hate and malice of the dragon.

The earth is good, said God.
And good it is ... in all of its incredible pieces.
Mountains and rivers; deserts and oceans.
Field and forest; sea to shining sea.

And the winds come, and the rains fall.
The sun shines, and the earth is dry.
And human beings come along.
In the image of God.

And we bend and we twist the good old earth.
To suit our fancy and fit our needs.
Needs sometimes out of bounds.
Needs that seem dragon-like in their writhing.

How good is the good old earth.
How is seeks to cope with evil.
The dragon's evil, of course.
But our evil is another matter.

The good old earth tries to swallow our evil.
Our malice and our greed.
To serve the LORD and save us.
The good old earth tries so hard.

A New National Motto

I wish we could rid ourselves of the motto, "In God We Trust."

Why?

It's a ruse, a blind, a cover.

A deception of mind and soul ... to lull us into some kind of unreasonable stance, that because of our motto, we have a leg up on just about everyone else ... and the great God Above looks upon us kindly, and will offer us unstinting protection against our foes, whatever and whoever they may be.

Micah the prophet alludes to this, as to the other prophets, as well.

The ease with which the people count on God to save them, because they have filled their lives with easy slogans and easily performed rituals.

Reminds me of Little Jack Horner, sitting in his corner, eating his Christmas Pie, and delighting in a plumb pulled from the dessert, and concluding, "What a good boy am I."

The fact that he sits in his corner, all by himself, eating the whole damn pie, makes clear to me that he's not such good boy after all.

Though he may be no better or worse than any other boy ...

Sadly, all of our god-talk has blinded us to our sordid history.

Sure, I'm glad to be an American - it's suited me just fine ... me and mine.

But for millions, the bright American Dream has been mostly a nightmare of poverty and loss.

Can't we be a bit more honest about all of this?

It's in our guns we trust, and in our bombs, and in our second-to-none technology, satellites above and drones a-flying ...

Rather than saying, "In God We Trust," how about a new national motto, "We have a lot of work to do!"

Good Night!

I'm tired.
Of Drump.
Of the GOP.
Of the deceit and lies.


I feel for the people,
Who signed on with him.
The angry folks.
The bigots who thought they had a chance.


Yes, I feel sorry for them.
They've been fooled.
Bamboozled.
Trumped.


How it must hurt.
Betrayed again.
Betrayed by the American Dream.
Betrayed now by their Savior.


They're so angry.
So angry.
So angry.
So, so angry.


They need someone who can offer hope.
Who can address their needs.
For health care.
For jobs.


For hope.
Hope is the piece.
Hope is the power.
Hope can be an illusion.


But it can also be life.
With hope, things happen.
With hope, people stay the course.
With hope, folks can handle anything.


I'm tired.
I'm tired of Drump.
Of Pence.
Of the GOP.


Is Hillary perfect?
Is she the savior?
Is she the new Madonna?
The new Mary?


Get off of it.
Don't be silly.
She's a politician.
But she's my politician.


She's knows how it works.
She knows how to play the game.
She knows who the players are.
She knows how to tap the power.


Is that bad?
Does that disqualify her?
Has she made mistakes?
Who hasn't?


But she's got a heart for children.
For women.
For the elderly.
For the people.


She knows the world.
As few of us do.
She's been in the eye of the needle.
She knows how it threads.


Anyway, it's been a long, long, day.
The news is painful.
The American Saga sad.
But I'm hopeful.


Why not?
Hope is my life.
Hope is my blood.
Hope is my DNA.


Why not?
I can't help myself.
Hope is what I am
And I'm glad about that.


Good night.

Woke Up Thinking

Woke up this morning (thank you LORD),
Thinking.

Thinking of some who've played a pivotal roll in my life.
Whose words opened windows.

So the light, as I see it, came in.
To accent and accelerate.

I give thanks for Calvin College.
And two professors:

Sociologist Rodger Rice who had us read:
"The Other America."

And Don Wilson, anthropologist, who suggested that
The Church missionally could be boorish and cruel.

And another professor: theologian Dr. John Bratt, who
Gave me the term, "Theistic Evolution."

In high school (Grand Rapids Christian High School,
The Rev. Morris Faber who said, "I believe you will do it."

Along the way, other professors of English and History,
Who saw in me something worth redeeming.

And Seminary professors, Western Theological Seminary, who
Saw the world large and bright.

Folks skilled in things of mind and heart.
Who loved the LORD, and loved the world.

I've said this all before.
But it deserves saying again.

These teachers taught me well, and
Well they shaped my life.

They led me to a better place.
Where the light is bright and where compassion abides.

So, what can I say?
But Thank you!

World with End

I found myself thinking the other day.
Yes, I know, a real surprise. Ha.


Thinking about the edge of the "known" universe.
What?
7 ... 8 billion light years away?


And then what?


Beyond that?


More space?


Infinity?


Forever?


World without end?


In my mind's eye, I have a sense of something going there, and then, on and on and on ... and then more ...


Words with specificity suddenly crash in on me.


I need definition, mostly, I guess ... it's so far, and then no more.
It's this long, wide, high, deep.


For a moment, it's as if I grasp it.
And, then, it's gone.


My mind reaches beyond.
And then finds a wall, of sorts.
The end ...


Not of the universe, whatever that is.
But the end of my mind.
A mind of boundaries.
Distances.
Measurements.
Calculations.
Additions and subtractions.


Oh well ...
It intrigues me.
Can there be anything without end?
Then it can't be anything.
Any thing.


It's some thing ... more.
Than any thing.


I have an idea.
And then I don't.


World without end.
Amen!

True Blue

It was the Presidential Election of 1968, my second year in Western Theological Seminary, that D and I registered for the first time to vote.

We came from GOP families, I mean, GOP families, most of whom are still GOP.

We registered as Dems.

A few years later, after a stint in the coal fields of West Virginia, D and I were in Altoona, and I had prayer for the local Democratic group and said to them, before the prayer, that "I am a Democrat, because the Democratic Party has a clear and consistent record on behalf of people - and that all of this is consistent with my Christian Faith."

D and I have never looked back, but only forward. D's score is perfect; mine?

In 1980, in some fit of bi-partisan foolishness, I cast my vote for Reagan, something that has shamed me ever since.

With that exception, I'm Blue ... True Blue, all the way, because I believe in helping people, in doing everything, anything, to make life better.

And I believe in people ... people want a shot at life, a chance; people want to love and be loved; to have families and rear their children in peace; to eat pizza and have a vacation now and then; they want good schools and good jobs, and then come to retirement with confidence that there'll be enough to make it.

I believe in people, and I believe in God, and those two beliefs are pretty much the same ...

And I'm Blue to the core ...

A Morning Funeral

A funeral this morning for an unusually gifted man.
Who rode freight trains,
And invented new toys for his kids.
And reinvented and improved just about everything.


A video of stills and music ... from his parents to him as a babe in arms.


And then a kid ... and then the adolescent ... and then a young man.


And then a husband, and then a father, and then a grandfather and then a man getting up in years ... and then just shy of 90 turns around the sun, time to tuck things away and say goodbye.


Others now, to take up the tasks.
The fun, the work, the play and the love.


He managed to be more than a father, a husband and an uncle ... more than a friend and a co-worker ... what it was that he was, best summed up, I suppose in his:


Never-going-away kind of smile.


I saw his life unfold in all of those delightful pics.
Like a flower - from seed to bud to unfolding.
And then wilting in the heat of time.
Petals dropping away.
Life getting lived ... lived quite well ... and then ...


A Mighty Fortress Is Our God was a favorite.
So was Amazing Grace.
And lots of other music.


So, I wonder ... about this thing called life.
We're so unconscious of it when we're in the throes of it.
And, then, one day, it hits us.
We hear the clock ticking.
Incessantly.


It's okay.
Though I don't like it.
Times, I hate time.
And not a dern thing to do about it.


And so it goes.
Live while we can.
If we can.
As best we can.


Know nothing but love.
And love covers a multitude of sins.


What is love?
Oh, I don't know.
But I know it when I see it.


And I suppose you do, too.