Watery Refreshment

The lake was a perfect mirror this morning, standing so still and smooth that trees on the opposite shoreline stood upside-down in the water.  That kind of serenity has a way of seeping deep inside and softening heart-spots hardened by too much self-focus.  I’m glad I took time to notice the stark clarity and magnification before me with its message of regeneration.

Although I’m on the front end of this year’s BSF curriculum on Isaiah, this morning I decided to jump ahead and ended up pondering a later verse addressing the restoration of Israel (see below) that captured the lakeside mood.  It seemed a good fit. God’s shepherding-compassion to His own here on earth is a reflection of the “springs of living water” in heaven when “God will wipe every tear.” (Rev. 7:16-17).

“They will neither hunger nor thirst,
Nor will the desert heat or the sun beat upon them.
He who has compassion on them will guide them
And lead them beside springs of water.”  (Is. 49:10)

Stepping Up

I began attending a new Beth Moore study tonight: Stepping Up - a journey through the Psalms of Ascent.

Hebrew pilgrims traveled to Jerusalem and climbed Mt. Zion three times a year to celebrate various feasts.  During their final ascent they sang Psalms 120-134. The ascent of the Israelites is a prototype of the experiential growth and spiritual ascent of Christian believers.

Here is a quote by Eugene Peterson from the intro:

There is no literature in all the world that is more true to life and more honest than Psalms, for here we have warts-and-all religion.  Every skeptical thought, every disappointing venture, every pain, every despair that we can face is lived through and integrated into a personal, saving relationship with God – a relationship that also has in it acts of praise, blessing, peace, security, trust and love.

Good poetry survives not when it is pretty or beautiful or nice but when it is true: accurate and honest.  The psalms are great poetry and have lasted not because they appeal to our fantasies and our wishes but because they are confirmed in the intensities of honest and hazardous living.

Munch-Lunching with Honesty

It was the usual restaurant scene: a couple of oversized guys gulped all-you-can-eat lunch buffet in the booth across the aisle; a tip-conscious, very young/blonde/skinny waitress with dark glasses filled and re-filled my mug of hot water; a salad bar beckoned with overflowing veggies and prepared salads, hot soups soft serve ice cream. This is where I met a friend today.

This friend has another name of course, but I’m giving her a pseudo-name: Honesty. 

I enjoyed sharing a couple of hours with Honesty over lunch.  Why?  Because she’s Real at the core, and that Realness came oozing all the way out through her blue-blue eyes and big smile, her careful listening and ready conversation, her attitudes and outlooks and, well, her HONESTY.

She’s a wizened but frisky filly, about my age, with beauty including, but extending well beyond, physical features into the realm of charm and grace that comes with age.  A couple of times today her hands spoke volumes to me through simple but expressive gestures – soft, gentle hands that would be volunteering all day tomorrow to clean someone else's house in preparation for new occupancy.

As we munched through our respective custom salads, and then refilled our plates with second helpings, I felt myself relax.  Ahhhhh.  In the presence of one so unguarded, so lacking in pretense and ultra-sophistication, her demeanor is bound to rub off.  I left feeling encouraged and tangibly, if inwardly, transformed: lighter, freer, and bouncier.  That’s what honesty does.

Living Temple Weirdness

I’m currently on a collision course with an emerging identity: weirdness.  Some folks assume I must be just a little (or a lot) strange, you know, “out there,” because of atypical views on food, health, and wellness. 

After all, I refuse to fit the norm when it comes to attitudes about fried mozzarella sticks dipped in Ranch dressing, fast food hamburgers layered with plastic cheese, and tall ice cream waffle cones stuffed with hormone-and-chemical-laden-pasteurized-and-homogenized-cream-topped-with-artificial-hydrogenated-fat-topping.  Instead, I go flying off on culinary tangents and indulge in (raw) zucchini spaghetti topped with (raw) marinara sauce, (raw) crackers made from nuts and vegetables, (raw) chocolate mousse (I kid you not), and other delights that sounds totally foreign to the Standard American Diet (because they ARE). 

As if this isn’t enough weirdness, I also resist (until the last resort, at least) chemical drugs and invasive treatments that are considered the “gold standard.”  HA! I suppose “gold” fits, since someone makes a ton of money while those treatments often mask symptoms without addressing the CAUSE of the problem and even sometimes just cause additional issues requiring more “gold standard” treatments! 

I’m weird because I receive therapy from a Rife (frequency) machine instead of plunging headlong into suggested surgery. I’m weird because I follow recommendations from an oncologist from Italy, a Franciscan monk who served for his entire life in the jungles of South America, and a local wellness practitioner with no capital letters after her name to prove her status.  How strange.

The skeptics can’t stand it, being slow to shift gears from practiced mind-sets, and prefer to smile politely with those I-think-you’re-kooky-but-I-like-you-anyway grins. I’m sure they wonder how I ended up so far out in left field…even when the positive results/evidences stack up.   Funny, because those same people also say I look better than I have in a long time.  I’m flattered, but respond by saying that my step has a little more bounce, too, because I FEEL better than I have in a long time. 

So WHY do I choose against the American Way, complete with its drug, cut, or burn approaches - at least until other options have been exhausted?  Because, remember, I’m so weird that I’ve decided to give my self-healing body a chance to heal itself.  As I’ve probably said before in other soapbox moments, my job is to figure out how to support its efforts to that end.

I decided it might be good to take a moment and clarify my motives right here, just in case someone cares. The current focus in these aforementioned areas stems primarily from one thing: obedience to God.  Yeah.  That’s right.  You may not see it that way, but then I don’t necessarily expect you to.

It boils down to this: I hope (in my weakness, with Him as my strength) to take an offensive stand for honoring THE TEMPLE.   God help me live out this conviction!

“Don’t you know that you yourselves are God’s temple and that God’s Spirit lives in you? If anyone destroys God’s temple, God will destroy him; for God’s temple is sacred, and you are that temple.”  I Co. 3:16

“Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God?  You are not your own; you were bought at a price. Therefore honor God with your body.”  I Co. 6:19,20

“What agreement is there between the temple of God and idols?  For we are the temple of the living God. As God has said, ‘I will live with them and walk among them, and I will be their God, and they will be my people.’”  II Co. 6:16

Moonwatchers - Part III

AHA!  So my attempt to post a copy of the picture FAILED MISERABLY, as you can see.  But at least about a third of it (minus the couple, the focal point) showed up.  :-)

Moonwatchers - Part II

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Moonwatchers

A beautiful painting caught my eye today, one featuring an older couple sitting on a bench overlooking their estate and a nearby village.  Rust-and-gold leaves linger in the trees as shadows fall across the lawn and a moon hangs low in the afternoon sky. 

I looked it up online to find out a little bit about the artist, William S. Phillips, and discovered a commentary on the picture:

This is a celebration of commitment and enduring romance, says William S. Phillips. It is a love story, one that speaks of love in its various stages. You cannot help but wonder how many times our moonwatchers have held hands and shared dreams sorrows as they have watched each season pass and each new moon wax and wane. Our couple sits quietly with their dogs, gazing out across chapters of their lives.There is the warm and comfortable home that has heard the laughter of children; there is the church where they were married so many years ago. And there in the distance, is 'their' moon. I hope this print can be shared and appreciated by lovers the moonwatchers of any age.

Here’s a link if you’d like to see it (since I’m not sure how to copy/paste it here):

http://www.world-wide-art.com/William_Phillips/Moonwatchers/vaid19220.html