Descent of a Comfortable Silence

 

Photo Credit: Jim McClelland

Jim McClelland and I are cruising along Highway 95 in Nevada, after our trip over Interstate 80 out of California, as we work our way to Eagle, Idaho. We are in his new-to-him truck pulling a 24-foot enclosed trailer as he and Shirley begin a new chapter in their lives, not a chapter they would have necessarily written for themselves, at least not with all the plot twists it’s taken to get them this far. 

During our 12-hour trek through the high desert, there is plenty of windshield time with snowcapped mounts surrounding us. While we have plenty of talking to do to catch up on our lives as we trundle along, we allow ourselves some periods of silence, a silence as rich in solitude as two people can have sitting next to each other.

There is comfort in the occasional silence that suffuses the cab of Jim’s truck that only comes in our being the best of friends. I am assured of Jim’s acceptance, I don’t need to fill the time with talk just to delight him, make him like me more, or prompt him to make a statement of undying devotion to our friendship. It is there, not taken for granted, but present in the silence, even as I type the draft for this post.

I want this sort of comfortable silence with Jesus Christ, my Lord. Many people talk about Jesus being their friend or ‘being a friend of Jesus’. I admit to having a problem with that terminology for myself. I am too busy working on having Him be my Lord and my King to seek friendship. It’s all semantics, I know, but semantics are important to me. I would like to sit with Jesus in a comfortable silence even as He is my Lord and assured of His acceptance with no need for me to say things to him to delight Him, make Him love me more, or to elicit a statement from Him so that I know He cares for me. A silence where I don’t ask of Him anything; no pleas for forgiveness (as much as I continue to need it), no appeals on behalf of friends or family (as much as they need it), and no adoring words of praise from me (as much as He deserves them all the time).

There is a hierarchy of assurance, a depth to certitude from thinking, to feeling, to believing, and finally to knowing.

To sit with Jesus in a comfortable silence is to be known by Him and to know Him. I would love to have that day descend on me. I dare say, if it happened, I would not likely recognize myself the next time I looked in the mirror.

In His grip and as always, on the Potter’s Wheel,

jerry

Photo credit: Jim McClelland

 

An Idaho writer's nook courtesy of Grandma Virgie, Jim's grandmother

Holm is Where the Heart Is

 

Isaiah 43:2 - “When you go through deep waters, I will be with you. When you go through rivers of difficulty, you will not drown.”

In my last Calvary’s Thread post, ‘Adrift’, I wrote about drifting along the current of a river without tiller or oar and speculated that I might be able to lean over and hand paddle my along. Jim McClelland suggested in a comment that by hopping in I could “enjoy the truths of the discoveries along this particular journey.” Part of my reply to Jim was that I am more effective as a swimmer than a drifter, or something along those lines. As effective as I can be while propelling myself along the river of life, I need respite from the currents and chills of the water. I need rest and a place to do it. I believe I found such a place and I know of a handful of others. Holm.

Holm, as Webster describes it, is a small island or inshore island. It’s a British term and those folks seem to have cornered the market for alternate words for an island such as: ait as in ‘a little island’ or eyot a variation on ait. I prefer ‘holm’ to the alternatives, it feels warmer and more inviting to me.

When my sister Denise moved to Merlin, Oregon and shortly thereafter my parents, we took summer trips to visit them nearly every year and with few exceptions, rafted down the Rogue River. For twenty-five years we took these floats using inflatable kayaks, paddle rafts, and drift boats. We encountered small islands, or holms, along the way downstream. They provide sanctuary for birds to nest to be safer for their eggs and young. Canada Geese, Mergansers, Teals, Mallards, and other waterfowl use the island to pull up on and sun to restore body heat and to nest. Songbirds and waders (Green and Great Blue Herons, and various Egrets) wade off the holms to hunt for fish and frogs. The islets are not Edens as there is predation from the sky from eagles and hawks. Otters, playful as they are, eat pretty much what they can catch. Still, there is a measure of sanctuary and peace, the birds can breathe and relax a bit.

Bass Lake, the ancestral home of my mom, has a couple of islands – one toward the upper third of the lake where the Madera County Sheriffs operate from. The other island is down near the dam. Both islands are submerged when the lake is full with the only evidence as either the Sheriff’s tower or the vegetation sticking up above the water. Likewise, both islands are accessible by walking when the lake is at its lowest point. The island near the dam is bisected by a boom, in the old days of true log construction but nowadays made of rubber coated tubes filled with floatation materials. Nearly from the day we could walk we would see how far we could get before falling off the boom and into the lake. It became a rite of passage when we could swim along the boom out to the island or take our inflatable rafts to it. These were our Huck Finn moments.

My dad and I sometimes rowed out and fished around the island. I miss those times of quiet conversation as we tried to lure trout and bass to our hooks. Whenever I see the island, I remember those times and I am warmed by the memories of them. It is a holm to me.

A week ago, as I wrote this, I was at holm with Jim and Shirley McClelland, free of the river’s currents, rapids, and rocks. A place of peace and sanctuary. I feel at home at their place, always. I rode my motorcycle up to see them, hang out with Jim with his various errands, and take in a Giants’ game at Oracle Park. As arduous as my ride up was (I’ll need to write that story for Iron Side Up) I needed a place to catch my breath. The ride provided me space to think and pray about things and then push them away to pay attention to the road. With Jim and Shirley, it is as though no time has passed and we pick up where we left off. I love them for it.

Mike and Van Schermerhorn’s place is another holm, and island of respite. The last time I was with them I had rented a trailer to help Mike move a patio set to a friend of theirs in need. As with Jim, it seemed that no time had passed and we picked up where we last saw each other. Mike and Van bought lunch for me which we had shared with friends of theirs. They needn’t have, the warmth in sharing in their kindness was more than enough payment. I love them for it.

My sisters’ places and kids’ homes are places we stay that offer the same sort of comforts of love, joy, and peace – they are places to rehab my soul. Holms in the river, though with the grandkids the times are more otterlike than completely restful.

My prayer for you, my encouragement to you, is that you find your holms. And those that you already know, pay them a visit and heal a bit from the rush and keep a weather eye out for new holms.

In His grip,

jerry

Biblical river references:

Psalms 46:4 - "There is a river, the streams whereof shall make glad the city of God, the holy place of the tabernacles of the most High."

Revelation 22:1-2 - "Then the angel showed the river of the water of life, clear as crystal, proceeding out of the throne of God and of the Lamb."

Genisis 2: 20 - “A river flowed from the land of Eden, watering the garden and then dividing into four branches.”

Laura's Challenge

 

On Sunday May 5, 2024, Rev. Dr. Laura Harbert delivered a sermon from her heart titled “We Become What We Behold!” I have found that when I write from the heart, that is when I am at my best and I appreciate when others do the same. Laura brought God’s word to us through her cornerstone verse:

2 Corinthians 3: 17-18 – “¹⁷Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom. ¹⁸And we, who with unveiled faces all reflect the Lord’s glory, are being transformed into his likeness with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit.” (NIV)

We are being transformed from what are into something we are not now. This is always the case throughout life and the transformative power comes from that which we behold, what we consume, what we take into ourselves. If we consume hate and falsehood, we become the purveyors of hatred, loathing, and lies. If we come to the Lord’s Table with repentance in our hearts and consume the fruits of the Spirit – love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control (Gal. 5: 22) – then this is what we will become.

To achieve this, to become more like Christ, I need to humbly and in repentance, keep myself on the Potter’s Wheel so that he can continue to transform this lump of clay more clearly into his image.

Reverend Laura’s challenge to me is to make a list of where I behold God’s Glory and to reflect on those things. Okay, she didn’t phrase it as a challenge but instead said, “This would be one homework assignment I would love to give each one of you. Make a list of where you behold God’s Glory. Who are the people who show you God’s Glory? What are the places that stir up God’s Glory? What are the things, where do you behold God’s Glory?” Me, being a recovering jock, have taken this as a challenge and my reply follows this link to her sermon if you would like to be touched and transformed:

Sermon 5–5-2024 “We Become What We Behold!” by Rev. Laura Harbert (youtube.com)

These are some of the places, things, and people that allow me to behold God’s Glory:

V I see Jesus in the smile of my children and their children and in the trust in their eyes. That is the spiritual fruit of love.

V I see God’s hand in a failed project that touches someone’s heart despite my failure. This is God’s grace and the spiritual fruit of faithfulness.
V My Lord speaks to me when a young teen, covered in dust, concrete, paint, and sweat smiles and can’t wait to do it again. This is faithfulness and joy in His goodness.
V He whispers to me when I hear the symphony played by nature’s orchestra – the rustling of leaves, gurgling of the brook, calling birds, and solitude. This fruit of the spirit is peace.

V I sense his presence while being part of a well ridden series of ess-turns by a group of expert riders. That is the spiritual fruit of joy.
V I feel God near me when I see the bonds of an old grudge against man or God broken. This is the faithfulness of the Great Healer.
V Seeing someone deep into solitude touches my heart with Jesus’ kindness.
V I hear God’s voice in Cindy’s laughter as it drifts into the office or upstairs while she’s on the phone or with friends or family. This one thing is the fruit of joy, love, and goodness.
V My kids in love show me God’s love for us all, for God is love.
V Cynene. She is all the fruits of the Spirit…
V I am transformed by the flight of a red-tailed hawk, my every-man bird, and hearing its call of joy and exhilaration. When I look at the intarsia hawk my dad me and read his inscription, “Together in His grip”, I am reminded of God’s goodness and mercy.
V I see God presence in Jim’s laughter, Michael’s wit, and Doug’s indominable loyalty – the love of friends of the past, present, and future are all the fruits of the spirit.
V Any chance encounter with one of God’s creatures speaks of himself.

V The unsolicited ‘good morning’ from a fellow walker, hitherto unknown to each other, reminds me of Jesus oneness. Perhaps the response to the smile and look of wonder on my own face as I think on this list is what inspired them to offer up the ‘good morning’.
V The turn of a good phrase like, “Fear not, for I am with you” (Isaiah 41:10) excites me to write. That is faithfulness.
V Seeing a scraped knee tended to by a parent, sibling, teacher, or even a stranger screams of Jesus’ gentleness and kindness.

For as long as I live, I won’t be able to list them all and, as you can see by my collage, there is room for more and blanks have been left in anticipation.

Make your own list, create your own collage, and dwell on those things where you behold His Glory.

In His grip,

jerry

Lonely Vigil

 

For the most part I was alone for the day. I awoke around 3a.m. and took over for Denise as she’d had a long shift. Textbook vigil. Dad was always a fighter – on the wrestling mats of Gardena High School, in and around the gridirons of football, in the boxing ring on the USS Point Cruz. His biggest fight, he lost. Smoking is a mother-effer to kick and he couldn’t and so we were on a vigil for the final count. Emphysema was the knockout punch that smoking threw at him and he couldn’t duck it though he fended it off as long as he could because he fought death up to his final few breaths.

With the exception of a bathroom break and a few moments to force myself to eat and stand outside to pray and be met by God’s Spirit, I stayed with him from the time I awoke until I helped carry him to the transport van and watched it roll down the driveway. We tried as best we could to keep him from being restless, as good as the uneducated can with drugs prescribed by people with M.D. after their names. I pictured the final fight scene in Rocky where he took a beating from Apollo Creed only my dad couldn’t block a punch nor throw one back and there was no referee to stop the fight, nobody but me in his corner to the throw in the towel. And I did.

Bob came by at some point in time and sat with us for a half an hour or forty minutes and we talked as he kept me company. He’d lost his own mom and had his own vigil not all that long ago. Denise stopped by from time to check on me and I told her I was okay and that I had it 'under control'. The struggle for a man in respiratory distress is violence contained in one rented hospital bed. I’d lied. That’s what big brothers do. But I wasn’t okay and I knew it but by the end of the vigil I did have it under control. God’s Grace is sufficient.

Mom came over for the last couple of hours and was there with me at the end, the two of us holding dad’s hand. She had her own massive fight going on while we helped her struggle to regain her strength and endurance. Throughout the day I played various renditions of Amazing Grace for him, mom liked that. The end finally came with the three clearest and easiest breaths I’d seen him take in years. It was a quiet end to a lonely vigil.

Now I’ve just told you about people coming by and sitting with me so how could this be lonely? It was lonely by choice. I could take in their comfort only so deeply as to get me to the next moment. If I had allowed myself to connect as much as my soul screamed for I would have lost it and not been up to the task for dad, or have been there for Denise or Bob or Mom or Stacey...

It has been 537 days since this happened, why bring it up now? Because I sit removed by a couple of short miles from friends and family on their own vigil and because I love them so much that I am on vigil as well, only somewhat removed.

These are the cruelest of vigils, the meanest of fights, when we have given ourselves over to inevitability. How I hate these things. I badly want to spare them this waiting, sit in their place for them. However, I am not allowed and must suffer my own portion as best I can and pray they have peace on the front lines of their particular fight. I grieve already for my friend, his family, and his friends.

This probably sounds like a lot of unbelief and lack of faith and that is correct. It is. And so the only thing I can really say is Maranatha, come quickly Lord Jesus.

In His grip,

jerry

O Holy Night

O Holy Night

I was brought up short by a comment Jim made on a post I’d put up just over eight months ago, ‘Roll Back the Stone’. Brought up short is about the only way to get my attention during these days of celebration; Thanksgiving, Christmas, birth announcements, weddings, and all sorts of things I need to be doing. Somehow Jim took a post where I confess that I keep a stone across my heart mostly to keep Jesus out rather than in and followed it up with a question that stopped me in my tracks.

Jim askes when considering ‘no room at the inn’ during this Christmas season, “Do our daily lives shuffle Jesus to our barns?”

Oh my yes, regrettably so. I am the posterchild for this. I’ve been keeping an action item list over the last month or so and the category of household/family items far outweighs two important categories for me – Writing and LCPC/Spiritual Growth. I agonize over it every time I go to the list.

One of the beauties of Jim’s comment is that he provided a link to Kerrie Roberts’ performance video of her singing ‘O Holy Night’. If you don’t read any further, take a listen – I’ve included the complete lyrics below the main post. Here is the link:

'O Holy Night' by Kerrie Roberts

A wine merchant and poet named Placide Cappeau was persuaded to write a poem to commemorate the renovation of a church organ. Adolphe Adam composed the music for it and it was premiered by opera singer Emily Laurey in 1847. There are a number of variations and performances of the carol and it has long been a favorite of mine. Research on its origins and translations has done nothing to render my love for ‘O Holy Night’ any less and "Cantique de Noël" has taken rather more significance for me.

I love the hope it gives – ‘For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.’

I love and seek to obey the command – ‘Fall on your knees!’

I have loved reading the second verse and bridge, parts of the song I wasn’t aware of until now because they are not performed by Roberts nor any others I’ve listened to leading up to this post. And I now cling to the promise – ‘In all our trials born to be our friend. He knows our need, to our weaknesses no stranger’. And the command at the end of the second bridge – ‘Before Him lowly bend!’

The third verse gives us admonitions to ‘love one another. His law is love and his gospel is peace,’ and ‘in His name all oppression shall cease.’

Finally –‘Let all within us praise His holy name.’

Sing people! Let Jesus out of our barns. Fall on our knees and before Him, let us lowly bend and praise his holy name.

As Jim signed off to me, so I sign off to you, ‘joy to the world. Let every heart prepare him room.’

jerry

O Holy Night

O Holy Night, the stars are brightly shining

It is the night of our dear Savior's birth

Long lay the world in sin and error pining

'Til He appeared and the soul felt its worth

A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices

For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn

Fall on your knees, oh, hear the angel voices

O night divine, O night, when Christ was born

O night divine, O night, O night divine

Chains he shall break, for the slave is our brother

And in his name all oppression shall cease

Sweet hymns of joy in grateful chorus raise we

Let all within us praise His holy name

Christ is the Lord

Then ever, ever praise we

Noel, Noel, O night, O night divine

Noel, Noel, O night, O night divine

O night divine, O night, when Christ was born

O night divine, O night, O night divine

Blog Post Notes: You can find much of this information in the Wikipedia and a list at the bottom of notable renditions of the songs. Some of the dates don’t match other sources I read and put the writing of the lyrics and music in 1847, the same year it was debuted. The list of performers is impressive and worth a scan. Maybe you can find a favorite version of your own.

Also note that as I was finishing up the first draft of this John Denver’s version started playing from his ‘Rocky Mountain Christmas’ CD. I hadn’t listened to before and had no idea he did ‘O Holy Night’.

I Don't Understand

I Don’t Understand

I don’t understand Lord. How could this happen? We prayed and kept praying. Knocked and continued to knock. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to figure it out and can only hug my friend in her loss. Even then, how will this help us know why?

I think at times like this, when we lose someone dear to our hearts, especially our own children, that we lack the capacity to ken the reason for their passing. You could explain it in our own language, plain English for me, or any number of languages throughout the globe. I doubt I could even understand where it to come from the mouths of angels via the gift of tongues. It hurts and I doubt. This vexes me, a purported man of faith, to have no answer.

It is one thing to lose someone after a long and full life, say a parent who has aged and deteriorated, or even a spouse who has done the same. The emptiness and loss are real for this but we understand that we age and have a finite time on earth to live. We can grow to accept the loss though never really come to love the emptiness. But to lose someone in the fullness of their life struck down by random rebellious cells in their own body, someone who can bring so much to so many and ease their pains, how do we live with that?

As you now Lord, I lost a friend to a random and senseless accident well before he even touched on the potential of his life. I still don’t understand that one. You know I became bitter over it and the whole thing drove a wedge between you and me. It was only a miracle at the hands of a bunch of junior high kids praying over me that I was cured of the bitterness. I still have the question but have accepted it as the way things are.

But, from where will the miracle come for my friend? How will she understand, accept, and move along? The family needs peace, Kristy’s struggle has worn them out. A mother and father grieve. A husband and little boy are deeply saddened. Friends hang their heads and weep. Clients, people who’ve felt healing and wellness at her touch, have an empty spot in their hearts. Our community has a hole where once a bright and warm light emanated and provided comfort.

I don’t understand it and can’t give them the explanation they feel they need to come to grips with the deep longing for a better outcome of the struggle. I can only pray and hope for a miracle to find them, envelope them, and give them a purpose for continuing down the trail of life without her.

And so I do pray and hope and look for peace. Bring it Lord, quick and sure, bring peace to our hearts.

In Your grip Lord,

jerry

I Am Saddened

(photo courtesy of 'Storyblocks')

I was saddened when I heard the news, the news that fifty-eight people had been killed and over 500 others gunned down in a senseless act by one man. This feeling is akin to that devastating shock I felt as I watched the plane crash into the second tower in New York just as my TV had warmed up for my morning bit of news while I was getting ready for work. Mornings turned into mourning.

Senseless acts, both of them. And countless more between and before and sadly, countless more to come after. We live in a broken world and nothing will fix it except for the unrelenting application of God’s grace obtained for us by the resurrection of Christ. And that will only work in partial doses until God’s Kingdom is established in full, on the earth. I am afraid they will remain senseless to us, that we will never truly understand the ‘why’ behind the actions of people who visit atrocities on innocents.

I won’t try to explain it here, I can’t.

What are we to do?

I am saddened also by what I’ve seen as I scroll along my Facebook news-feed. Saddened by those who see fit to politicize such a tragedy before the scope of it is fully known. You know the ones I’m talking about. They are on every side of the issues being bullied about from their social media pulpits. ‘We need more gun laws!’ elicits the response ‘It is our right to bear arms!’ We may well need more laws or to actually enforce those we have and it may well be our right to own and carry weapons. However, our duties lie elsewhere.

I was saddened by those who chose to take aim at protesters while praising the heroes of the day. The message to the protesters was weakened by doing this just as the message of praise for the hero was diluted.

Just as I’ve been saddened by the politicos in response to this latest mass shooting I was saddened by our response to the 9/11 attacks. ‘United we stand!’ they said. ‘We will never forget’ we said and so we pooled our resources and we ‘got them’ all the while destroying more innocent lives by many times than what were taken from us on 9/11. We missed an opportunity for a Godly response.

What are we to do?

I suggest we let the dust settle. Take a knee, take both knees, to the turf and let the dust settle. Let it settle all around us, on our shoulders, upon our heads, and on our backs while we are bowed over in prayer. Prayer for the souls of the dead, for the healing and recovery of the wounded, and for peace for all those folks who were there and experienced a terror words can only go so far in describing. We should humble ourselves first and let the impact settle in around us. Pray for God’s Kingdom to come and come quickly. We need to pray for the heroes of the day, those who shielded others, those men and women who ran into harm’s way to stop the madness – pray for their emotional scars to be wiped out so that heroes can walk upright and be ready again. So the lambs and doves can sleep without trembling. Pray so the angles need not shed more tears.

Friends, let us stand down from our stumps and get off our soapboxes and instead kneel by our beds at night, by our desks during the day, and humble ourselves while the dust settles.

In His grip,

jerry

LCPC VBS Call to Prayer – Week 3

The LCPC VBS Prayer Train is at the midpoint now and cresting the summit and we should be able to have a long view ahead of us to see the finishing point and still be able to look back over the tracks we used to get here.

I have been using Ashley’s suggested prayers, a series of prayer areas for the five weeks leading up to VBS, which she put in the VBS Leader Booklet. I’ve taken the daily scripture and stories that will be used during the five days and outlined them in the posts to give you all an understanding of what is being taught in order to give you a more focused approach to your prayers for the week of VBS. And, it will give you the added blessing of being a part of our week.

During week one we prayed for understanding to rest on the children and wisdom upon the teachers. We followed that up with a week of prayer for trust in God’s timing and patience. This week the call is to pray for the children to know that Jesus is all powerful and uses His power to help them because He loves them. With that we pray for the VBS staff to find ways to show Christ’s power.

Our scripture for Wednesday of VBS week is John 14:27 where Jesus says, “²⁷Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.”

Here, Jesus had been instructing the disciples and telling them of the Holy Spirit that will be coming upon them after His resurrection. Jesus has calmed storms, fed the multitudes, and performed many signs and wonders and knows that when he leaves to be with the Father the disciples will face trials and tribulations that will rock them to the core. Jesus leaves us with peace, not as the world gives but a peace that surpasses all understanding – thus our need for the Holy Spirit.

Wednesday’s story is Jesus calming the storm and we take the account from Mark printed below:

Jesus Calms the Storm

Mark 4: 35-41 (NIV)

“³⁵That day when evening came, he said to his disciples, ‘Let us go over to the other side.’ ³⁶Leaving the crowd behind, they took him along, just as he was, in the boat. There were also other boats with him. ³⁷A furious squall came up, and the waves broke over the boat, so that it was nearly swamped. ³⁸Jesus was in the stern, sleeping on a cushion. The disciples woke him and said to him, ‘Teacher, don’t you care if we drown?’

³⁹He got up, rebuked the wind and said to the waves, ‘Quiet! Be still!’ Then the wind died down and it was completely calm.

⁴⁰He said to his disciples, ‘Why are you so afraid? Do you still have no faith?’

⁴¹They were terrified and asked each other, ‘Who is this? Even the wind and the waves obey him!’

When I look at this story and see that Jesus quiets the storm and then questions the disciples on their faith and wondering at their fear I have to ask myself how Jesus would have preferred it then and how he wants me to go through the storms of life now. Are we to pray for the storm to cease? Or, rather do we pray for the peace of Jesus to be on us so that we can walk through the storm without fear? For me, I think it is the later. Storms will come and go but Christ’s peace should be on us no matter what. No easy task there so my prayer is for God to grant that I can walk in peace in the midst of the storm and project that peace for those I am around.

A couple of decades ago our Youth Ministries used a summer theme of “Fear Not!” working off of Nike’s trademarked “No Fear” campaign. I loved this theme and the scripture we used and I’ll close my call to pray for VBS and this post with it. Here is a command from God as given us by Isaiah.

Isaiah 43:5 (ESL): “Fear not, for I am with you.”

In His grip,

jerry