Month: May 2017

Scripture Reading: Isaiah 42; John 21

Isaiah 42: 1 – 4: A bruised reed He will not break,
and a smoldering wick He will not snuff out.

The Old Testament writings are deeply inspiring in their authors’ ability to portray the gentleness of God as the world awaits the advent of the Messiah. God is a shepherd who has patient disregard for the slowness of the sheep; portrays the human condition; and indicates the endless love the coming Messiah will require. Then the long-awaited revelation of Divine love arrives as an innocent and helpless Child.  Isaiah teaches his followers to sing: “Unto us, a child is born, unto us, a Son is given, and His name shall be called Wonderful, Counsellor, the mighty God, the everlasting Father, the Prince of peace.”

No Scripture captures more succinctly and thoroughly the awesome beauty of the New Testament God, which Jesus conveys, than the image in the Old Testament of the bruised reed and the smoldering wick.

The reed once stood tall. It danced in the gales and shone in the sun. Its beauty changed with each passing season. It nestled safely against the earth’s breast when winter bore down upon it with fury. It sang and swayed gently to the music of spring’s return. The reed preached eloquently to all passing by, of the Providential care of a gentle unseen hand.

The wick, on the other hand, was a human-made object. It is true that in the beginning, the wick is the inspiration of the Creator of celestial and everlasting light. Now it fulfills its function in the home, in the town, in the streets, and in the world. It gives light to all. It brings comfort on a stormy night when the visibility is diminishing. It is a gift that can never receive value in common currency when the shadows of the evening lengthen, and the darkness in the valley is made less dark because of the glowing wick.

But nothing remains unchanged in this world. Time passes swiftly by and sweeps everything along with it. All too soon, both the reed and the wick are mere shadows of their former being and find a place on the heap of discarded things.

But wait! Turn the page! ‘The bruised reed and the smoldering wick’ is not a parable about expendable things. It is rather a parable about God’s way of dealing with people.
The bruised reed tells the story of individuals who were once standing straight and tall, but now the vivaciousness of youth has fled, and time lays its burden upon them. Or it may be a more nefarious burden in youth that weighs the heart and stoops the shoulders.
Now the actual meaning of the parable of the bruised reed appears: “The bruised reed He will not break.” The Gospel immortalizes the tenderness of God through Jesus Christ, who embraces those with drooping heads, and heavy hearts, and strengthens them by His Cross. “The bruised reed He will not break.”

“The smoldering wick He will not snuff out.” Once more, the Gospel captures the tenderness of God in Jesus Christ, as He rekindles a new flame of devotion in tired and weary spirits. Peter, the disciple of Jesus, was contemplating a return to his fishing boat because for him everything had changed with the death of Jesus. But by the sea of Galilee, and in response to Jesus’ question, “Peter do you love me?” Peter becomes ‘The Rock’ upon which the church is built. The smoldering wick He will not snuff out.

When our day is over, and we can no longer engage in sharing His Light with others, be assured that the wick is not extinguished. In the shelter of His Presence, it will glow with perpetual light, and from heaven, one more light will be added to lessen the world’s darkness.

Reoice, the Lord is King;
Your Lord and King adore;
Mortals, give thanks and sing
And triumph evermore:
Lift up your heart, lift up
your voice;
Rejoice; again I say Rejoice!
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1. Here and throughout this text, the Scripture quotations are from The New International Version. NIV.
2. Charles Wesley. In “Rejoice The Lord Is King.” Stanza 1,
#112. ” The Hymnary” The United Church Of Canada.”
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To gain a further understanding of the meditation that follows, a reading of the suggested scriptures will be most helpful. Also, a study of the Editorial Notes at the end of the post may prove to be beneficial)

 

Scripture Readings: Luke 19: 1 – 10
Revelation 21: 1 – 5

Luke 19: 9 Jesus said to Zacchaeus, “Today salvation has come to this house, because this man, too, is a son of Abraham. For the Son of Man came to seek and to save what was lost.” (1)

Thirty years before this recorded event two significant happenings occur.

One, in Bethlehem, is recorded like this: “The angel of the Lord appeared and said to Mary, ‘Don’t be afraid, Mary. God has been gracious to you. You will bear a son, and you will call him Jesus. He will save his people from their sins.’ (2) “When the right time came, God sent His Son, born of a woman, born under the law.”(3)

The other happening occurs in Jericho: Another boy is born. His parents while looking upon him for the first time see what is to them, no doubt, the face of an angel. Soon after his birth, his parents begin searching for an appropriate name that would capture the essence of this beautiful gift from God. They decide upon a name rooted in their Hebrew heritage – a derivative of the Hebrew words for clean, pure, righteous.  “Zacchaeus,” they whisper over and over to each other. “His name will be Zacchaeus. We shall call our boy Zacchaeus”

Now, some thirty years afterward, the two of them meet face to face for the first time: Jesus, the Saviour of the world, and Zacchaeus ,a tarnished angel!

But what happened to Zacchaeus? What tarnished the angelic beauty that inspired his name? William Wordsworth, a poet of a later century, in his “Intimations Of Immortality” offers convincing evidence on the question:

We come from God, who is our home, trailing clouds of
glory; Heaven lies about us in our infancy!
Shades of the prison-house begin to close
Upon the growing boy. The Youth, who daily from the east
must travel. At length, the man perceives it die away and
fades into the light of common day (4)

But is there no antidote for such a fateful malady? Is ‘tarnishing’ the indefensible fate that awaits all that are born into this world? According to Wordsworth, the shades of the prison-house close upon the growing boy, and he continues to lose his natal glow, until at last it fades into the light of common day.

This world is never kind to high ideals and noble principles. It still crucifies the compassionate and berates its lovers. It disregards every desire for the restitution of former glories.

There remains, however, for each person, one window in the world’s prison-house that permits the light to cast its effulgent rays into the darkest prison.  From the moment it is experienced, that light transforms defeat into victory. It is the abiding Truth that enlightens the whole world. The experience of William Wordsworth quoted above is not the end of his story. There is much more awaiting him beyond the walls of the prison-house:

And I have felt A presence that
disturbs me with the joy
Of elevated thoughts. (5)

The angelic appearance once glimpsed by the parents returns now for all the world to see.  An angel’s presence, once realized, needs never to be irreparably lost.  Let it be forever written indelibly on each person’s heart:  “A man’s reach must exceed his grasp” (6)

Everything that Zacchaeus achieves in his lifetime, including his employment as a Roman tax collector, does not end his constant searching.  Everything he grasps leaves him still reaching. Could it be something that was his at birth is eluding him and making him reach? Is it that same natal gift observed by his parents that so endeared him to them?

One day Zacchaeus’ reaching finds its reward!  It is Robert Browning in his poem “Andrea del Sarto” who advises:  “A man’s reach should exceed his grasp, Or what’s a heaven for?” (7).

The truth begins to dawn upon Zacchaeus. Everything he calls his own all too quickly disappears. Nothing of this world is eternal. Materiality always changes and eventually it decays. There is but one thing worth reaching for, and which abides forever. It Is the gift of spiritual worth that heaven offers.

Zacchaeus, the tarnished angel, meets Jesus, the One who specializes in restoring ‘tarnished’ humanity. Jesus says to him, “Today salvation has come to this house, because this man, too, is a son of Abraham.  For the Son of Man came to seek and to save what was lost.” (8).

Zacchaeus is a tarnished angel no longer. By the grace of God, he is enabled now to bring a little more of heaven into his troubled world. So may it be for us! Amen

Hymn:                  Amazing Grace – Andrea Bocelli

Editorial Notes

1. Luke 19:9.
Revelation 21: 1 – 5
Here and throughout the text Quotations from
The HolyBible are from the New International Version.
NIV.
2. Luke 2: 26 FF.
3. Galatians 4: 4
4. William Wordsworth. in “Intimations Of Immortality.”
5. William Wordsworth. in “Tintern Abbey.”
6. Robert Browning. in “Andrea del Sarto.”
7. Robert Browning in “Andrea del Sarto.”
8. See #1.

9.Photo: Taken at our summer cottage, at Michael’s                                     Harbor, Newfoundland, 2017 

    

 

 

 

                    Seeing The Invisible 

Scripture Reading: Matthew 9: 20 – 29
Hebrews 11: 1 – 10

Matthew 9: 20-21  A woman who had been subject to bleeding for twelve years came up behind Him and touched the edge of His cloak. She said, “If I only touch His cloak, I will be healed.” Jesus turned and saw her. “Take heart, daughter,” He said, “your faith has healed you.” (1)

Few authors of English literature, if any, can surpass John Milton’s epic skills.  Observe his portrayal of the agony and the horror of blind Sampson in “Sampson Agonistes.”:

O loss of sight, of thee I most complain,
Blind among enemies,
O worse than chains, dungeon,
or beggary or decrepit age.

Light, the prime work of God to me is extinct! (2)

We are told, however, of blindness that far exceeds the crisis of physical blindness.  It is this trait: “though seeing; they do not see; though hearing, they do not hear or understand.” (3)

The old man’s features bore the evidence of having been born on a rugged, windswept coast where he survived and laboured for more than three score years and ten.  His face resembled the crevices in the cliffs along the Northeast coast of Newfoundland, from whose wild shores he fished for more than half a century.

I saw him for the first time as he sat beside his hospital bed.
The need for medical attention resulted in a journey far from home. He was physically separated from his familiar surroundings, but he was still back home in his mind and spirit. He was doing battle with the winds and the waves off the headlands he knew and loved.

Mentally, he had slipped his moorings and was unable to distinguish reality.  Now it was the treacherous rocks and the shoals of memory that he was navigating!  The crank at the foot of his hospital bed was for him now the flywheel of his fishing boat’s engine; and as he had done millions of times before in real life, he heaved with all his might, hoping to start the motor!

You know how one’s heart pains to see the helplessness of a brother or sister in the vicious throes of mental confusion.  I have come to believe that the kindest thing one person can do for another in such a circumstance is to still the urge to show them the reality, and meet them where they are at the moment!

A look of utter dread and unbridled fear crept over his face. “See those clouds in the west,” he urged, “I tell you, there is a fierce gale in them; and here we are, helpless and adrift!” He barely took the time to finish his sentences before resuming his strenuous effort!

“Old skipper,” I proposed, “just move over, and let me give it a try.” He did. Sheepishly, I grasped the crank in my hands and made the same throwing motion I had observed him make. Momentarily, I said to him, “Listen, old skipper. Do you not hear that? The engine is running. We are on the move! See those lights twinkling from the shore; they are the lights of home. Head for them, and we will be safe from the storm.”

A look of ineffable peace replaced the look of fear. It was as though we had found a passage through the treacherous tangles of memories, and headed out into the open sea of renewed hope.

When at last I near the shore, 
And the fearful breakers roar
‘Twixt me and the peaceful rest, –
Then, while leaning on Thy breast,
May I hear Thee say to me,
“Fear not, I will pilot thee.” (4)

We’re all heading home, you know! It’s a good practice now and then, to check and make sure that we can see the lights of Home.  It is not with the physical eyes shall we see, but with the eyes of the soul; lights from ‘the city that hath foundations, whose builder, and maker is God!’ (5)

But where does the certainty of that city lie?  Of what value is faith, when all things are under threat of an avalanche of mental confusion and unrelenting pain?  What happens when the mind and the soul become helpless prisoners of the body?
A New Testament incident full of mental, physical, and emotional pain provides the help we need. It is a picture of an unfortunate woman who is an absolute prisoner of herself!

This woman had suffered for twelve years without a break. In addition to the physical agony of her condition, the financial and social consequences of her malady had brought inestimable loss. In her efforts to find a cure, prudence in spending had gone with the wind.  Friendships ended in a haze of suspicion and lingering uncertainties.  now under a cloak of less painful anonymity, she braved the likelihood of even more public scorn.
Is there anyone who cannot understand how such a grievous circumstance could quickly become the walls of a prison to shut one away from every other living soul?  All this woman could see night and day for twelve years was the gathering storm clouds with their foreboding threat.  She was like one who dwelled in a house of mirrors.  Everywhere she looked she saw the images of her disintegrating self.

Only the gift of God’s Holy Spirit can penetrate such utter human darkness. Only God can put a window in the solid brick of any person’s prison wall. Only God can remove the fog from spiritual eyes, and enable one to see the lights of home.

I can not tell you the precise moment that the Spirit of God came to her.  It was the time of her deepest heartache, sorrow, and longing; perhaps at a time when tears dimmed her vision, as she recalled familiar faces of some she once called friends.  In spite of everything she had endured, she finally convinced herself:  “If I can only touch His cloak I will be healed.” (6) That was God’s moment! That was the moment of supreme hope! Was there a more valuable treasure she would one day find in the present world than the treasure she now appropriated through the eyes of faith?

Can hope itself ever disappear forever?  Does hope spring eternal in the human breast?  Will there come a time when there will remain only prison walls with no liberating window?
No, a thousand times over no!
Although the evidence of the physical world is overwhelming, the human spirit having once been embraced by God is sure of God forever!

I have heard of a group of tourists who journeyed to the North East mainland of Kenya to view the breathtaking splendour of Kilimanjaro. The highest peak of Kilimanjaro, Kibo, reaches a height of 19,340 feet.  Imagine how disappointed the tourists were to arrive and to find the majestic peak enshrouded in clouds.
One of the tourists wrote in her diary: “We were about to return to our hotel not having seen the very reason for our trip.  As far as were concerned, perhaps Kubo never even existed.  Suddenly, just for a few seconds, the clouds parted, and there it stood in original magnificent splendor. The moment was breathtaking.  Too soon the cloud cover returned, and Kobo has hidden from our view again.  It made little difference now. We had seen Kobo, and we were sure of Kobo’s majesty and extreme beauty forever.” (7)

Here is the truth concerning us.  Once we see with the eyes of faith the twinkling lights of our Eternal Home, we will be convinced forever.  If the mists of this life befog our mental capacities, our spirits will guide us to the safety of the Harbour.  Nothing can ever change that.

I am confident of this as well:  that the woman who sought one day to touch the hem of Jesus’ cloak and remain undetected by Him returned to repeat that action again and again, for without the trappings of physicality she saw the invisible, and there is nothing more significant than that.
Be near when I am dying,
O show Thy Cross to me;
And for my succor flying,
Come, Lord, to set me free:
These eyes, new faith receiving,
From Thee shall not remove,
For he who dies believing
Dies safely through Thy love. (8)

Hymn:  Jesus Saviour, Pilot Me

https://youtu.be/VXJwWCUYr8c

 

1. Holy Bible NIV. See Matthew 9: 20- 22 p.1498 -1499
2. JOHN MILTON. In Sampson Agonistes, Lines 65 – 75 p.553. In Milton’s Complete Poems and Major Prose. Merritt Y. Hughes, edit. Published by Hackett Publishing Company Inc.
3. Holy Bible NIV. See Matthew 13:13 p.1504.
4. Edward Hooper. In JESUS, SAVIOUR PILOT ME. # 444 in The Hymnary. United Church Of Canada. P351
5. Holy Bible NIV. See Hebrews 11: 10 p.1853
6. Holy Bible NIV. Dee Matthew 9: 21 P. 1499
7 . Unidentified to me
8. Tr. from the German of Paul Gerhardt by James Waddell
Alexander. O SACRED HEAD, NOW WOUNDED stanza 4.
# 94.Hymnary. United Church Of Canada.p79-80.
In Hymnary. United Church Of Canada
9Hyhttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VXJwWCUYr8c&feature=youtu.bemn: Jesus Saviour Pilot Me.

 

 

Scripture Reading: Psalm 1: 1 – 6; John 3: 1 – 18

Psalm 1: 3. He is like a tree planted by streams of water, which yields its fruit in season and whose leaf does not wither. Whatever he does prosper. (1)

It is common for many people to ask what is it with the poets and their representation of human life.  Many lines of poetry on the subject just do not jive with the experiences we know.

“He is like a tree planted by streams of water, whose leaf does not wither.”

The number of people for whom that is true seems so minuscule it is barely observable. While stooping to tie my shoes each morning, I survey the surrounding scene to determine what additional task might need doing while I am in that position. Something is withering, and it hurts! And then listen to the poet Robert Browning:

Grow old along with me!
The best is yet to be,
The last of life, for which the first was
made: (2)

We refuse to finish the couplet; it is so out of touch with most experiences. We are so in tune with our aching muscles and our dimming eyesight that Robert Browning is easy to dismiss.

It is apparent that the one thing that most characterizes this generation is our obsession with the aging process. For the past decade, analysts have been calculating the financial strain the ‘Baby Boomers” will place upon the system.  Innovative attempts are being made to conceal the obvious giveaway signs that many of us now belong to that “Baby Boomer” generation.  Still, many people keep valiantly trying to hide the stubborn facts, convincing themselves they see visible of signs of improvement. Yet the swift season’s roll never delays for the briefest second.
We can change definitions and camouflage the facts at will, but essential facts remain: muscles grow flaccid and limp, steps become leaden and slow. The ‘slumber room’ is still the funeral parlor. The seasons roll – at an even swifter pace, it seems! The poet, the prose writer, and the artist may take all the poetic license and liberty they desire to create their intended effect; yet the physical reality never matches our desire.

In the light of all this, there is one essential question that must engage us all. What responsibility remains for each of us to effect each season that comes and then so quickly passes?  It is true: there is nothing that we can do about the passage of time.  We can personally take responsibility to distinguish one season from the next rather than let life pass in an impossible maze.

I heard of one invited to give his view on aging. “It’s all downhill from here,” he responded.  “It’s just like coasting down a steep hill to the end. Nothing you can do will affect the outcome.” The Questioner responded:  “Yes, it is rather like sliding down a steep hill, but surely you are going to accept the responsibility to steer the sled, aren’t you?”

It may be time now to look again at our critique of the poetic expressions concerning life discussed earlier.

The poet in Psalm One makes it abundantly clear that it is “the man who delights in the law of the Lord, who is like a tree planted by streams of water.” The writer underlines the fact that time still passes even for that individual, but the passing seasons yield their fruit. Each season brings the responsibility of keeping in good repair his relationship with God.

Similarly, Robert Browning goes further than extending an invitation to “Grow old along with me”.  His suggestion is that the experience of aging can be an enlightening experience for all, simply because “our times are in His hand Who saith,’A whole I planned.'”. (2)

Every season that rolls by has within it opportunities to experience other adventures with God. Vigilance will prepare us to enjoy invigorating seasons with God. Then by the end of life’s journey, we will know what it is, to be like a tree drawing from streams of living water.

Let one more poet be permitted to have the last word on this theme. Here is Oliver Wendell Holmes writing in his “Chambered Nautilus.”

Build thee more stately mansions, O my soul
as the swift seasons roll!
Leave thy low vaulted past!
Let each new temple, nobler than the last,
shut thee from heaven with a dome more vast,
till thou at length are free,
leaving thine outgrown shell
by life’s unresting sea. (3)

___________________

1. Holy Bible. Here and throughout quotations from The Bible
Are from the NIV. New International Translation

2. Robert Browning. From ” Rabbi Ben Ezra”

3. Oliver Wendell Holmes. “The Chambered Nautilus”