Tag Archives: faith

Clouds of Uncertainty

(if you are viewing this via email, the website has a recording of this poem and commentary; click the title above)

Commentary

My assignment for this blog post is to mention
– my father’s intellectual honesty
– a sermon in Conclave that int’rested me
– a book by Peter Enns
– an exchange with one of my super-smart friends

Here goes….

What do we do when clouds pop up in the clear blue sky of our beliefs, be they beliefs about the natural or supernatural world?

I wrote this poem to myself while the question was troubling me more than usual.

Here’s the setting….

One of my newest friends is skilled in poetry, theology, and science. In conversations with him, it seemed like a perfect time to revisit the Genesis creation account. How do Genesis 1 & 2 shed light on reality? It’s a huge question, but I thought that with my friend’s help I might make a little progress in clearing up my confusion. We talked, and he loaned me a book with lectures on this topic by the esteemed Bruce Waltke.

So, I’m reading those lectures. At the same time, I’m listening to books by Peter Enns. Waltke and Enns both taught at Westminster Theological Seminary in Philadelphia. Although I haven’t accessed the source materials, I know they had a serious, respectful dialogue highlighting “fundamental questions about how to approach biblical interpretation, especially when dealing with apparent contradictions or historical and scientific challenges” (that’s an AI summary). The Enns book I’m currently listening to is The Sin of Certainty.

I also heard certainty challenged from another quarter. In the movie Conclave, the Ralph Fiennes character preaches a sermon that includes these memorable lines:

Certainty is the great enemy of unity. Certainty is the deadly enemy of tolerance.

Criticisms of certainty resonate with me. My father was a theologian and writer. He “knew his stuff.” But he was also intellectually honest. That is, he recognized and readily acknowledged what he DIDN’T know. He was characterized more by humble faith than by certainty. Having grown up with that model, I am repulsed when people think they know more than they really know. I’m skeptical—and dismissive—of their certainty.

And now to my exchange with a super-smart friend—not the poet, not my father, but another friend…. We were discussing the question of whether or not heaven will always be distinct from earth. In part of my argument for a future unified Heaven/Earth, I mentioned my notion that

Jesus’ “going up” in the Ascension [might be] an accommodation to man’s limited apprehension of the unseen world. Hints of that world are sprinkled throughout the Bible. Think, for instance, of Elijah’s being whisked “away” in a chariot of fire. Or a passage nobody ever mentions: the 70 elders’ vision of God and His sapphire pavement in Exodus 24.

It was that argument where I got the idea for the metaphor in my poem. Jesus is received into the clouds and thereby hid from the disciples’ sight. The clouds are a transition between the seen and the unseen.

Clouds, like uncertainty, suggest that there’s more and better to know beyond, something ALMOST attainable. A certainty to which we’ll arrive—soon, eventually… just not yet. Another way of looking at this would be that when we cannot control our environment, God may be at work, changing our hearts, or changing our circumstances

A CONFESSION
That last paragraph was supposed to be the clincher of this commentary. I had hoped to perfectly capture in prose what I intuitively wrote in verse. But I didn’t succeed. It turns out I am uncertain of my own meaning. Is that uncertainty fine? Can I let it be? It’s the perennial question of this growing poet.

Bread Maker

(if you are viewing this via email, the website has a recording of this poem and commentary; click the title above)

Commentary

Suspecting that the Genesis creation account should not be taken literally can threaten one’s faith. I have held off thinking deeply about this threat for a long time now. Over the years, I’ve heard people I respect say something like “The Genesis creation account is poetry; don’t take it literally.” The main problem is that I have not heard a convincing exposition of the account as anything other than literal history. Rather, I have been exposed to many conservative defenses of a young-earth, somewhat literal understanding of Genesis. Since I do believe in an all-powerful, miracle-working God, the defenses often resonate, or even thrill!

Jesus and his Apostles seem to have taken the Genesis creation account literally. How are we supposed to understand their arguments if they’re wrongly based on a literal understanding of Genesis?

This poem is a naming and exploring of the threat. I want to deal with it instead of suppressing it. To that end, I’m enlisting the help of wise, intelligent, and faithful(!) friends and writers. It’ll be okay if I don’t get it all sorted out. That’s to be expected in a life of faith.

By the way…. I don’t usually say this publicly, but I’m pretty pleased with this poem. I especially like the second stanza, which tells a story in miniature. It’s odd though… being pleased with the expression of a troubling thought….

(background image adapted from one by OpenClipart-Vectors on Pixabay)

Euangelion

(if you are viewing this via email, the website has a recording of this poem and commentary; click the title above)

Commentary

First, the occasion for this poem: I’m slowly working through Paul’s Epistle to the Romans, and I thought I should figure out if–and how–Paul actually defines the key word euangelion (usually translated “gospel” or more literally “good news”). He certainly goes a long way toward characterizing the word.

When I was a little boy, my father—ever the seminary professor—had no use for mere parroting. We’d read a passage of Scripture in family devotions, and then Dad would say, “Now put that in your own words.” I have written elsewhere how annoying that was… and how right he was!

Eugene Peterson would probably have done the same thing. He and Dad both knew that real understanding can be lost in overly familiar words.

If you do a search for “gospel” in the helpful (and FREE!) YouVersion app, you’ll find that most English versions choose that word–“gospel”–to translate euangelion (https://www.bible.com/search/bible?query=gospel). But specify Peterson’s “The Message” as the version in your query and you won’t find it used even once. Does that mean that Peterson didn’t value “the gospel”? I’m guessing the very opposite is true: It was because he valued the gospel SO MUCH that Peterson insisted on using his own words. He didn’t want its glory obscured by familiarity.

In this poem, I started out with the concept of words as suitcases of meaning. I began writing, and let the words take me where they would. As is often the case, it got a little dark.

If you ask around for people’s definition of “the gospel,” you’ll find there are different emphases concerning what the “good news” is about. Many will say it’s good news about God’s Kingdom. For some reason, I usually think of the gospel as “good news” about the availability of eternal life in a resurrected body in a restored creation. It’s very good news indeed! But that good news implies bad news, the news that apart from grateful reliance on God (my own words for “faith”), “life’s too short.”

See my closely-related prose poem “Prosaic Parrot.”

Good Wine

(if you are viewing this via email, the website has a recording of this poem and commentary; click the title above)

Commentary

Do you ever feel like, “God isn’t pleased with me and never will be”? I suspect that is a thought that hangs over many of us, even those who are saved through faith in Jesus Christ. Well, every now and then, I just feel like saying “Go jump in a lake” to the accuser. In plain language, I suspect that in Heaven, God will express far more pleasure with us than Satan would have us anticipate.

There are two odd, but purposeful wording choices in this poem:
1) “be proven to have been” That could easily have been “prove to have been,” which would be far easier to read! But I wanted to steer clear of any mistaken notion that the “wine” will do the proving. It’s God who will prove anything. I can imagine Him saying “Here, look at this,” or “Here taste this,” or “Consider how this servant demonstrated my goodness.”

2) “favored year” was originally “favorite year.” But then I realized that was too exclusive, which was the opposite of my intent! More than one year can be favored. When God’s the one favoring, all the years can be favored. And again, “favored” suggests the year receives God’s grace and provision, not that it earns his approval. From my reading of Scripture, “favored” is closer to reality than “favorite.”

(background image by “beasternchen” on Pixabay)

Beyond a State of Decay

(if you are viewing this via email, the website has a recording of this poem and commentary; click the title above)

Commentary

Here’s a little perspective on my rate of physical decay and spiritual growth. It was prompted by one of those slightly worried self-examinations: “Am I making any progress in becoming more like Jesus, or am I just fooling myself?” The answer–my answer, for what it’s worth–was this comforting poem.

AN EXCHANGE WITH SOMEONE VERY CLOSE TO ME HINTS AT THE CONTEXT:

THEM (regarding the poem): “Gut wrenching and amazing.”

ME: “Thanks. There’s something I really want to explore from my crawl through Acts. In giving his audience a summary of God’s dealing with Israel (Acts 13), Paul refers to Jesus’ resurrection as the fulfillment of His promise of a Son, who—unlike the first “son,” Adam—is no longer subject to decay. That, and any number of other reversals is what I look forward to in Eternity for myself and those I love.”

A closely-related poem (and one of my first): “Celebrate What Is.”

#acts13v34 #psalm1 #2corinthians4v14 #2corinthians4v16 #resurrection #decay #growth #spiritualgrowth #abiding #rootofjesse #mashup

(background image by Sergio Cerrato on Pixabay)


Good News, Good Faith

(if you are viewing this via email, the website has a recording of this poem and commentary; click the title above)

Commentary

Halfway through my second year in college, I went through a period of questioning my faith. Actually, I was questioning “my inherited faith,” since Christianity was what I grew up with. The questioning was a healthy process. I came out of it with a recognition that I could not–and need not–prove anything about God definitively.

One book that I read at that time was In two minds: The dilemma of doubt & how to resolve it by Oz Guinness. Since it has been over forty years since I read the book, I can’t swear to this, but I seem to recall Guinness suggesting that doubt often arises from ingratitude. Over the years, that seems to have been borne out in my own life: stop thanking God for all He supplies, and soon I’m struggling with doubt.

With that background, you’ll understand why, when I recently tried to throw out all my presuppositions about Romans and come to my own fresh understanding, there’s one presupposition I wasn’t willing to throw out just yet: that the kind of faith Paul is talking about could be characterized as “grateful reliance.” That’s really what this poem is about. When I posted the poem on Facebook, here’s what I wrote:

My flight through the Bible has my little plane struggling for elevation to clear the mountain range called Romans.

This little poem is me thinking “out loud” about how Abraham’s exemplary(?)* saving faith may have differed from the faith of his descendants.

*Caution: the QUALITY of Abraham’s faith may not be Paul’s point. I look at it because many of those whose condemnation Paul mentions surely had their own measure of faith. Was it different? Is that important? I don’t know yet.

(the background image combines a night sky photo by Chemnitz/Deutschland on Pixabay; a desert scene by Greg Montani, also on Pixabay; and Genesis 15:5 in Hebrew)

Romans. Really?

(if you are viewing this via email, the website has a recording of this poem and commentary; click the title above)

Commentary

Well, this is embarrassing! This is probably a lousy poem. I wrote it as flow of consciousness while studying Romans. And now, I don’t recall what I was thinking. Wow. That’s lame.

I do recognize a perennial lament of mine: that there’s always someone out there interpreting our efforts in the worst possible light.

Here, for what it’s worth, is what I wrote when I first posted the poem:

Sometime it would be nice to ask of Jesus, “Are we really friends? When you look straight through me, do you see anything of yourself?”

Dos and Dont’s

(if you are viewing this via email, the website has a recording of this poem and commentary; click the title above)

Commentary

GOD’S LOVE AND KINDNESS IS BEFORE AND ABOVE ALL

I have a deepening impression that our obedience and disobedience to God are the result of whether or not we believe that God is reliably loving and kind.

Most recently, this impression was strengthened as I contemplated Stephen’s sermon in Acts 7. As I see it, he’s recounting a history of Israel rejecting God’s promises and provisions.

I also think of the Sabbath. God tells Israel that they can take it easy on the seventh day, and seventh year and in the jubilee year. He will provide! Keeping the sabbath was first and foremost a matter of believing God’s amazing promise and provision. But almost immediately, Israel turned the delightful provision into a duty.* 

Just now, I looked back at Genesis chapter 1. God’s first action toward man is to bless and give.

GOD IS GOOD, but large swaths of Christianity concentrate more on dos and don’ts than on God’s goodness.

*[I must confess that I understand how that could happen when the first thing out of the gate was a disobedient Israelite getting killed for picking up sticks on the Sabbath…. I’m trusting God will enable me to understand this some day]

____________________

#dosanddonts #godsgoodness #acts7 #genesis1 #blessing #sabbath

(background image by Jan Mesaros on Pixabay)

Glory in Dust

(if you are viewing this via email, the website has a recording of this poem and commentary; click the title above)

Commentary

This poem is inspired by the seeming anachronism of what Jesus said just after Judas had left the Last Supper on his way out to betray him:

When he had gone out, Jesus said, “Now is the Son of Man glorified, and God is glorified in him.”

John 13:31

I held off on posting this poem for several days. Here’s what I wrote to a friend about my hesitation:

I have this niggling feeling I’m getting something wrong in the poem, that something’s off.

I believe this is what was troubling me: everything in me wants to associate God’s glory with triumph. But Jesus’ statement that “Now is the Son of Man glorified” comes just at the point in the story where Judas has gone out to help the religious leaders defeat Jesus.

How does Jesus’ putting himself in a place where his enemies could–and would–kill him constitute an instance of God’s glory–the glory of the Father and the glory of the Son?

Here’s one of several answers. I offer this one because it applies to us as it does to Jesus: our submission reveals the glory of a God who is able to make a man who can say “No” but is willing to say “Yes.” If we go all the way back to Job, we see that this glory of God is on display to the universe.

“Sent”
As I have been slowly reading through the Gospel of John, there is a word that Jesus uses frequently about himself. It is “sent.” He wants people to understand and believe that he is sent by the Father. For instance, John records this short prayer of Jesus when the stone had been taken away from Lazarus’ tomb:

So they took away the stone. And Jesus lifted up his eyes and said, “Father, I thank you that you have heard me. I knew that you always hear me, but I said this on account of the people standing around, that they may believe that you sent me.”

John 11:41-42

Well-Remembered

(if you are viewing this via email, the website has a recording of this poem and commentary; click the title above)

Commentary

DON’T TRY THIS AT HOME
In this poem, I’m doing two things that are generally discouraged. First, I’m playing with the Greek idioms that Luke used in his telling of the Resurrection. “At early dawn” in Luke 24:1 is literally “at deep dawn” (ορθρου βαθεωσ, orthou batheos). “In dazzling clothing” in 24:4 is literally “in clothing flashing like lightning” (εν εσθητι αστραπτουση, en estheti astraptouse). I pushed lightning to its root: aster = star. OF COURSE, THIS IS GENERALLY FOOLISHNESS. Translating idioms is not a matter of dissecting phrases down to their literal components. Imagine how “knock your socks off” would be translated into another language if the translator were translating word-for-word!

The second thing I’m doing — more successfully in my head than in the poem — is relating New Testament events to Old Testament events. Where, in the Old Testament, was a stone removed for a woman by a man? One place is Jacob’s initial meeting with his bride-to-be Rachel (Genesis 29:1-10). Does that story have anything to do with the Resurrection account? PROBABLY NOT. However, probably not isn’t the same as definitely not.

I say “don’t try this at home.” Don’t make too much of literal meanings of words, or of slight coincidence. But DO THIS: read the Bible with heightened vigilance and imagination. When you encounter stories with wells, or stones, or swords, or angels, or fire remember: the Author was there; often, if not always, He was a character in the story. And He has a long memory.

(background photo by “ernie” on Pixabay)

Love and Faith

(if you are viewing this via email, the website has a recording of this poem and commentary; click the title above)

Commentary

As I try to get caught up with posting poems here on my blog, I’m encountering some poems written so long ago that I don’t recall what I was thinking! I do remember that this poem was an emotional response to Luke 7. One of the questions that’s often on my mind when I read the Gospels is “What did Jesus and his listeners think that salvation means?” Of course we can read the accounts with the benefit of systematic theology, but I’m uneasy about that process. A theological grid can obscure as much as it reveals.

(background image by Monika on Pixabay)

Railing

(if you are viewing this via email, the website has a recording of this poem and commentary; click the title above)

Commentary

On my walk yesterday, listening through Exodus, I heard this fascinating snippet:

And they saw the God of Israel. There was under his feet as it were a pavement of sapphire stone, like the very heaven for clearness. And he did not lay his hand on the chief men of the people of Israel; they beheld God, and ate and drank.

Exodus 24:10‭-‬11

When I encounter passages like this one, I want to explore, to stop and study. Not necessarily to study in an academic way… more to gaze intently until my senses have taken in the scene, so that like Mary I may ponder in my heart. But there are voices—do I only imagine them?—who murmur “Move along, and stay behind the railing.”

The Poem’s Structure
I woke up this morning and initially wrote the last five lines. As often happens with me, something subconscious was giving the poem physical structure by creating a pattern of line lengths. When I see that happening, I try to follow through. The poem was taking the form of a mountain, but it needed a summit. So I inserted the first seven lines.

Docents
I have toured many a museum, and been thankful to many a docent for guiding me there. I mean no disrespect by picturing them in this poem as dripping clouds who live only to put out sparks of curiosity. What am I actually picturing? Dull, strangling systematic theology, at least as practiced by some.

(background image by TravelCoffeeBook on Pixabay)

Amazing Nonchalance

Commentary

When I was ten, we moved to the States from a country where practicing religion was always costly. Mostly, the cost was self-imposed, as many thought they could earn God’s favor. For a few, the cost was appropriate, and unavoidable, as they could not be comfortable with surrounding culture. IN CONTRAST, what I saw here in the States was that practicing religion seemed to cost nothing. That concerned me then, and it concerns me still.

Someone may respond, “I’m not comfortable with surrounding culture! So, wouldn’t you agree that I am paying a price to be a Christian!” My answer: maybe, maybe not. The thing about culture is that it is never merely “surrounding.” Rather, it works its way into much — if not all — of what we think and do. We’re part of it. It’s part of us.

Simply being upset at others’ immorality is not enough. Jesus’ prescription is not “Get mad at the world.” His prescription is, “You! You. If necessary, cut off your own arm. Gouge out your own eye. Renounce everything that YOU have.”

So therefore, any one of you who does not renounce all that he has cannot be my disciple.

Luke 14:33

Lord’s Day Vision

As I catch up with posting my poems on this blog, here’s one that I am especially eager to get “out there.” It was written on the day that my dear friend announced that he was resigning as our senior pastor. I had known for a couple of days that this was coming. I knew it was going to be painful. I knew that my friend would have other duties on that Sunday. It was Mother’s Day. This day was not all about him. In his typical humble fashion, he carried off his duties for the morning with graciousness. Then, at the end of the service, after he had concluded by announcing his resignation, I and the other elders stood with him and his wife on the stage and prayed for them. The tears came at last — I was close enough to see. And since I know what lead up to this resignation, it was especially painful for me. Here and there, my friend made strategic errors as a senior pastor. WHO DOESN’T?! But any such errors were dwarfed by his faithfulness to God, by all he had put in motion to make our church a place where shepherding and spiritual growth really happen. Let’s just say that two years of extremely painful personal circumstances were exacerbated by the pandemic and a handful of implacable opponents who made my friend their lightning rod.

My pastor’s benediction that day was the old Anglican “Go into the world in peace….” That afternoon, I took a long walk. This poem came to mind as I walked. Here’s how I introduced it on Facebook:

This poem was the fruit of a tearful Sunday walk. It refers to real friends and real expectations. We live now in a long, painful beginning. Someday, that beginning will have reached its end, in terms of time and purpose. For now, “Go into the world in peace; have courage; hold on to what is good.”

Hope
Do you see the hope? It’s real. There’s something about selflessness that reminds me: Jesus triumphed over the grave. When a brother acts like Jesus, I’m reminded of what Jesus’ actions have put in motion. “Have courage. Hold on to what is good.”

To The Church, 2021

I wrote this little poem partly as a sermon to myself. Here’s how I prefaced it on Facebook:

SINCE WE’RE SCROLLING…
I don’t want to waste this short lifetime, do you? And yet, I devote hours to things that won’t matter in eternity. Meanwhile, there are incredible riches — within reach — that I leave untouched, unexplored.

THE RESULT? My very speech is impoverished.

you also, like living stones, are being built into a spiritual house to be a holy priesthood, offering spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ.
1 Peter 2:5 NIV
https://1peter.bible/1-peter-2-5

If anyone speaks, they should do so as one who speaks the very words of God. If anyone serves, they should do so with the strength God provides, so that in all things God may be praised through Jesus Christ. To him be the glory and the power for ever and ever. Amen.
1 Peter 4:11 NIV
https://1peter.bible/1-peter-4-11

Let the message of Christ dwell among you richly as you teach and admonish one another with all wisdom through psalms, hymns, and songs from the Spirit, singing to God with gratitude in your hearts.
Colossians 3:16 NIV
https://colossians.bible/colossians-3-16

And whatever you do, whether in word or deed, do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him.
Colossians 3:17 NIV
https://colossians.bible/colossians-3-17