A Matter of the Heart

“I am not alone at all, I thought. I was never alone at all. And that, of course, is the message of Christmas. We are never alone. Not when the night is darkest, the wind coldest, the world seemingly most indifferent. For this is still the time God chooses.” - Taylor Caldwell

STABAT Mater speciosa iuxta faenum gaudiosa, dum iacebat parvulus.	BY, the crib wherein reposing, with His eyes in slumber closing, lay serene her Infant-boy,
Cuius animam gaudentem laetabundam et ferventem pertransivit iubilus.	Stood the beauteous Mother feeling bliss that could not bear concealing, so her face o'erflowed with joy.
O quam laeta et beata fuit illa immaculata, mater Unigeniti!	Oh, the rapture naught could smother of that most Immaculate Mother of the sole-begotten One;
Quae gaudebat et ridebat, exultabat, cum videbat nati partum inclyti.	When with laughing heart exulting, she beheld her hopes resulting In the great birth of her Son.
Quisquam est, qui non gauderet, Christi matrem si videret in tanto solatio?	Who would not with gratulation see the happy consolation of Christ's Mother undefiled?
Quis non posset collaetari, Christi Matrem contemplari ludentem cum Filio?	Who would not be glad surveying Christ's dear Mother bending, praying, playing with her heavenly Child
Pro peccatis suae gentis Christum vidit cum iumentis et algori subditum.	For a sinful world's salvation, Christ her Son's humiliation She beheld and brooded o'er;
Vidit suum dulcem Natum vagientem, adoratum, vili deversorio.	Saw Him weak, a child, a stranger, yet before Him in the manger kings lie prostrate and adore.
Nato, Christo in praesepe caeli cives canunt laete cum immenso gaudio.	O'er that lowly manger winging, joyful hosts from heaven were singing canticles of holy praise;
Stabat, senex cum puella non cum verbo nec loquela stupescentes cordibus.	While the old man and the maiden, speaking naught, with hearts o'erladen, pondered on God's wondrous ways.
Eia, Mater, fons amoris me sentire vim ardoris fac, ut tecum sentiam.	Fount of love, forever flowing, with a burning ardor glowing, make me, Mother, feel like thee;
Fac, ut ardeat cor meum in amatum Christum Deum ut sibi complaceam.	Let my heart, with graces gifted all on fire, to Christ be lifted, and by Him accepted be.
Sancta Mater, istud agas, prone introducas plagas cordi fixas valide.	Holy Mother, deign to bless me, with His sacred Wounds impress me, let them in my heart abide;
Tui Nati caelo lapsi, iam dignati faeno nasci, poenas mecum divide.	Since He came, thy Son, the Holy, to a birth-place, ah, so lowly, all His pains with me divide.
Fac me vere congaudere, Iesulino cohaerere, donec ego vixero.	Make me with true joy delighted, to Child-Jesus be united while my days of life endure;
In me sistat ardor tui, puerino fac me frui dum sum in exilio.	While an exile here sojourning, make my heart like thine be burning with a love divine and pure.
*	*
Fac, ut pulchrum infantem portem, qui nascendo vicit mortem, volens vitam tradere.	Let me bear Him in my bosom, Lord of life, and never lose Him, since His birth doth death subdue.
Fac me tecum satiari, Nato me inebriari, stantem in tripudio.	Let me show forth how immense is the effect on all my senses of an union so divine. All who in the crib revere Him, like the shepherds watching near Him, will attend Him through the night,
*	*
Fac, me Nato custodiri, verbo Dei praemuniri conservari gratia.	Make me by His birth be guarded, by God's holy word be warded, by His grace till all is done;
Quando corpus morietur, fac, ut animae donetur tui nati gloria. Amen.	When my body lies obstructed, make my soul to be conducted, to the vision of thy Son. Amen.

*Removed by 4theluv for doctrinal reasons.

For my eyes have seen your salvation, which you have prepared in the sight of all people,
a light for revelation to the Gentiles and for glory to your people Israel. Luke 2:30-32

Christmas was both the fulfillment of God's promise to send a Savior, and the beginning of the fulfillment of His promise to save us through the death of His Son on the cross.

Merry Christmas to all.

4theluv and family.

Forever Young

"Take care of all your memories, for you cannot relive them." - Bob Dylan

It is funny how age sneaks up on you.

In many ways, 1980 seems like ancient history. And to many of the "kids" in our church, it is. We have deacons who were not even born then, and elders who were still learning how to zip and tie shoes. The year 2000 might as well have been a millenia away, and no one (including, apparently, Bill Gates) worried about Y2K bugs. In the immediate past of that time lay the musical tragedy of disco, and the future held the equally disturbing "hair bands." (Save the comments - you will not convince me that the hair bands were good music.)

For a kid growing up in the farmlands of middle America, the journey to the present now seems completely unlikely. The small (and I do mean small) bedroom community of my youth now seems impossibly distant to me. A kid of 15, in my future lay marriage, children and a host of challenges that, though now in my past, would have seemed insurmountable to me at the time.

Though the memories are hazy, I can recall the days of sitting around at my friend Van's house, listening to Led Zepplin, Pink Floyd, and the Stones. Occasionally, Marc would come over with his Van Halen albums (yes , they were all LP's, vinyl, you know, those large usually black things you had to put on a turntable connected to your HiFi.) and we would humor him and listen to them. There were no bills to pay, mortgages to feed, kids to shuttle.

It is amazing how quickly time passes. Those days you thought would never end are all suddenly gone. And then one day you wake up and life is real. You have places to be, and you are no longer responsible just for you, but for spouses, children, parents, co-workers, and employees. The complexities of the now replace the simplicities of youth.

It would be easy to glorify the life of my youth. I had a good youth, but it was not always simply good times with friends, with no pain or reality to interfere. Even now I can look and see some of the scars that life has given through those years, both physical and mental. I can look at my hand and see a scar I got fighting with Philip Bellew over some girl we both liked. (We were friends again a few days later.) I can see Eddie Carter and Ingrid Collin's faces, classmates and occasional friends who passed away in car accidents during high school. I can see John's face, a much closer friend whose death still fills me with regret and a real sense of personal guilt.

By and large, though, my youth was relatively trouble free and carefree. God has given us the blessing of time, which seems to force us to remember the best, and forget the rest. (Or perhaps it forces us to remember it as better than it was?) And that is why, mentally, it is such a pleasant time to go back and remember, even though those memories have faded.

It is funny, though, how some things can bring those memories flooding back vividly. A few weeks ago, listening to Stokes, Connie and Adam sing a song written by Adam, was one of those moments. Music, for some reason, seems to transport us at times to other places and to other memories. And Adam, Connie and Stoke's singing took me back to those simpler days of my youth. Suddenly, I was vividly the age of 14, sitting in Van's house with the guys and listening to the new Bob Dylan album that Van had bought. And what a great album it was - Dylan's "Slow Train Coming."

I have written about it before, but it is worth me saying again: Bob Dylan, absolutely the most brilliant musical and literary talent in modern history and all around coolest rocker ever, was writing, playing, and singing gospel music. For a kid who liked music for the words and sounds, Dylan's gospel drip would later turn to a river. (Van hated the album, and gave it to me.)

Searching YouTube the other day, I once again had one of those moments. I was transported back to those days. Take a listen to Dylan's "In the Garden" from his "Saved!" album of 1981.



If you watched it closely, you would have noticed that Dylan's back up band for that tour was Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers. Pretty amazing. The contrast of a dystopian hard rocker Dylan singing about the crucifixion of Christ, backed up by Tom Petty, is to me poetic, and humbling. And what great memories they make.

Paul said it this way: Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things. Phil. 4:8.

Those moments in my youth, and in my present, are pure moments. And those moments will continue. We will continually build a lifetime of memories. And it is nice to walk those paths every once in a while and recall them, but I would not trade the responsibilities and relationships God has given me now for those days. And I know years from now, I will turn my hearing aid up and listen to some whippersnappers sing or preach, and a smile will come across my face as I rememer Stokes, Connie and Adam's song, and the perfectness of that moment in worship.

As a church, we have much to be thankful for, and many memories are being made in our midst. Memories that will be eternal.

Take care of your memories, because you cannot relive them. Thanks for tolerating me while I share mine.

4theluv

P.S. - Burt - it is time for you to use your Wonder Elder powers and force Stokes, Connie and Adam, at gunpoint if necessary, to record that song and post it in .mp3 on the church website.

The Sound of Silence

“Quietude, which some men cannot abide because it reveals their inward poverty, is as a palace of cedar to the wise, for along its hallowed courts the King in his beauty deigns to walk.” - Charles H. Spurgeon

One of Mrs. 4thluv's favorite places to visit is New York City. The Big Apple. Broadway and Times Square. The Empire State Building. People. The hustle and bustle of millions of people going about their daily tasks in close proximity to one another is exhilarating to her.

I don't really like New York City. I have been there for both business and leisure. The people are kind enough. Even going to a Braves game at Shea stadium wearing a Braves jersey didn't upset them too much. New Yorker's probably get a bad rap for their manners.

Now to be fair, I have only been to Manhattan and Queens, two of the nicer boroughs of the city. (I was warned to stay out of the Bronx when I wanted to go visit Yankee Stadium). But I still don't like New York City. To me the city smells of Bourbon Street on a hot summer day. The traffic is like 285 in Atlanta at 3:00PM. The buildings so large that often you can't see the sky. And when you do, it is gray and smoggy.

Those things aside, it is the noise that really gets to me. Cars honking, workers shouting, subway trains going by, jack hammers rattling, cranes lifting, ferry whistles, sirens blaring, planes flying over. (Some find these sounds "thrilling" - you can have them.) To tune out the noise you would have to tune out life. The noise goes on 24/7. New York is not my kind of town.

But you don't need to travel to New York City to be filled with noise. New York City comes to us. Today's society is filled with way too many noises. TV's have to be left on, music playing, cell phones ringing. The noise gives to us a "sense" of being connected to others, so we do not feel alone.

One thing you don't hear a lot of is quiet. This society finds "quiet" disturbing. Perhaps it is because of the the fear of being alone with ourselves.

I can recall growing up in the 1970s and early 1980s that quiet was easier to come by. In those days, there were no 24 hour news channels, in fact, until I was in high school, there were no 24 hour television stations. Daytime afternoon TV was all local programing, usually kid's shows poorly produced. Prime time shows were limited to 3, whatever was on ABC, NBC or CBS.

Until I was 11, our family had only one TV in the house, and it was in the living room. As a result, TV shows were decided by popularity (i.e., what the parents wanted to watch), and the loser (ie., those who didn't like that show and me). Being the youngest of three children, I either had to learn to like what someone else liked to watch, or I would have to go find something else to do, like read. And I read a lot.

I spent hours as a kid reading things that boys normally read - the Hardy Boys series, Boy's Life, Mad Magazine (what a great magazine), Sport's Illustrated, and the Sunday funny papers. And it was easy. I could go into my room, open the window and listen to the quiet sounds of the night, and read. I solved the all the mysteries with Frank and Joe, wished I was Fran Tarkington, Bob Griese, Ken Stabler or Wilt Chamberlain (glad the last one never came true), laughed time and again at Spy vs. Spy and Alfred E. Newman, and couldn't wait until Sunday to see what Beetle Bailey, Snuffy Smith, and Marmaduke were going to get into. (I know, you are not supposed to end a sentence with a preposition. My apologies to Mrs. Lykins.)

I don't read those types of books and magazines much anymore. (Though Sports Illustrated is till a part of our yearly subscriptions.) But I still like that quiet, the solitude those memories bring back. That "not-having-to-be-around-people-and-deal-with-more-problems" space. I'm not a real emotional type person, anyway, and for me quiet time reading or studying is relaxing and introspective. (Some, like Mrs. 4theluv, prefer the term "moody" which is probably as good a term as any to describe me). But I do like my quiet - my alone time.

Make it your ambition to lead a quiet life, to mind your own business and to work with your hands, just as we told you, so that your daily life may win the respect of outsiders and so that you will not be dependent on anybody. (I. Thes. 4:11-12)

I used a quote by Henry David Thoreau a few weeks ago as a comment on Scott H.'s blog. “Many men go fishing all of their lives without knowing it is not fish they are after.” That quote made me think of Scott and his fishing trips, and his reflections on situations he has been involved with in the church. But it is also true of us all - we need time to reflect on our relationships, particularly with Christ. It is not the fish, the books, the magazines that we need, it is the time to touch base with ourselves and our God.

Sometimes, after we have tended to our business, worked with our hands, and won the respect of others, we need some time to reflect on ourselves. To think. In quiet. And reflect. To learn to be ok with ourselves, and to like the person that Christ is teaching us to be.

I think that is why I won't fair well in New York City. I can't get alone, away, and I can't catch my breath.

In the quiet, away from everyone else, I know its ok to be ordinary. It is away from the TV, the cell phones, the cars, the sirens, the music, that I find myself. And it is there that I understand my relationship with Him. Quietude, as Spurgeon calls it, reveals our inner poverty - but also allows the King to walk its hallowed corridors.

And, to quote Robert Frost, that has made all the difference.

4theluv

The Day the Old Man Died

"Poverty is like punishment for a crime you didn't commit." - Eli Khamarov

The church was full as worship began. A simple glance at the congregation showed all the usual types of people were present. The wealthy and the poor, the sincere and the casual. There was even the crazy old guy who claimed visions from God, and the poor widow woman whose presence at the church was noticed only if she was not there. Poor people are so needy.

The church itself, though big and full of people, had long since kept on keeping on. Once vibrantly focused on God, the worship through the years had moved to catering to displays of individual expressions of righteousness and political agendas. The church was the center of religious and political life in the city, and to it the population looked to find the answers to decay and depravity that rampant in society. The church was aware of and used its influence and power to promote its political ideas. And politicians curried the favor of the church, and they could play the congregation like a piano, with rousings speeches about God and t heir own personal walk with God. The solution, the church thought, to the evident moral decay was for the church to use its political influence to radically alter their society. The politicians just knew that the church was but one key to the city, and needed its people to find their power.

The church had lost its focus of committment to God, and learned that it was a powerful force for creating the world it thought God wanted. Message over substance. Action over committment.

It was used to strangers in its presence, and normally paid little attention. The dregs of society came in,, whether for hand outs, or from a sense of duty, their presence was barely acknowledged. Certainly, few noticed the young unmarried couple with a new born baby, and those that did quickly dismissed them as they had so many others. The people who needed to be known in the church were already known, and this young couple, obviously poor, were not likely candidates to promote the agendas of the church or useful in advancing its mission. They had nothing to offer, and were only in need.

This worship time, though was to be disturbed. A commotion started in hushed tone - the crazy old man had collapsed in the church, and people were rushing to give medical attention. It seems while no one was looking, he had greeted the poor young couple, even holding their newborn when he collapsed. In the midst of the commotion the baby was separated from his parents, and found himself safe in the arms of old widow until he could be reunited with his parents.

In their midst, amongst all the diginitaries and politicians with all their schemes and plans for making society after their own image, was the hope of the world. What they could only talk about, God delivered into their midst in the child of a poor, unmarried couple.

When the time of their purification according to the Law of Moses had been completed, Joseph and Mary took him to Jerusalem to present him to the Lord (as it is written in the Law of the Lord, "Every firstborn male is to be consecrated to the Lord"), and to offer a sacrifice in keeping with what is said in the Law of the Lord: "a pair of doves or two young pigeons." Now there was a man in Jerusalem called Simeon, who was righteous and devout. He was waiting for the consolation of Israel, and the Holy Spirit was upon him. It had been revealed to him by the Holy Spirit that he would not die before he had seen the Lord's Christ. Moved by the Spirit, he went into the temple courts. When the parents brought in the child Jesus to do for him what the custom of the Law required, Simeon took him in his arms and praised God, saying: "Sovereign Lord, as you have promised, you now dismiss your servant in peace. For my eyes have seen your salvation, which you have prepared in the sight of all people, a light for revelation to the Gentiles and for glory to your people Israel."

The child's father and mother marveled at what was said about him. Then Simeon blessed them and said to Mary, his mother: "This child is destined to cause the falling and rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be spoken against, so that the thoughts of many hearts will be revealed. And a sword will pierce your own soul too."

There was also a prophetess, Anna, the daughter of Phanuel, of the tribe of Asher. She was very old; she had lived with her husband seven years after her marriage, and then was a widow until she was eighty-four. She never left the temple but worshiped night and day, fasting and praying. Coming up to them at that very moment, she gave thanks to God and spoke about the child to all who were looking forward to the redemption of Jerusalem. (Luke 2:22-36)

And the church moved on, and with all its influence and power, 30 years later crucified our Lord. How quickly we forget.

Lord, help us all to see that the answers to this world's issues are not found in better government, but in that One Child, Your Son, who You gave for the redemption not only Jerusalem, but for all of Your people. Your Son, who we miss because we look not for You, but instead for that which we think You want.

Happy Candlemas.

4theluv

True Worship and Love

"Love is something more stern and splendid than mere kindness" - C. S. Lewis

Worship has always been for me a thing to attend, and the Gospel mere words on a page that I believe. But the power of the Gospel Sunday in our worship was literally overwhelming for me.

The music was, great, the message was, exemplary, the setting, ornate. Often in our worship service I have seen God's presence in each of these: the music stirring a song of joy, or reflection, or of peace; the Message, bringing hope in a particularly dry time in my life; the prayers, offering me a window into the soul of the pray-er, and transporting me into the presence of Almighty God. Often I have seen Christ in the pieces, much like a guitar played on only one or two strings. But Sunday was different. I saw Christ in the SERVICE. Not like a well-played six string guitar, but rather like a harp in the hands of an expert, played to the tune of the Gospel He died to bring us, displaying the grace of God His Spirit imparts to us, as shown through His people, in concert, live, for the world to see.

The service was not pretty. In fact, it was the most painful worship service of my life. To the backdrop of the church's Elders, the announcement was made that a trusted member of the church, the finance secretary, had taken money from the church's accounts. The finance secretary stood at the podium and confessed her sin, and simply requested forgivness. The hurt was evident in the faces and voices of the elders who spoke, and the congregation who listened. And the easy thing for everyone would have been to express their anger, and explain how bad this sin was, and go away disillusioned and angry. The tension in the service, the reality sinking in, lead me to wonder was this really a good idea to make such an announcement. How would this congregation respond? Would they treat her with kindness, or, as the Gospel dictates, would they treat her with love?

Paul said it well: Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. (I Cor. 13:6-7). In that service, in the face of the very people who should be offended, there was LOVE. All those things Paul said about it, they were there. Love, for Christ, love, for her, love, for His church. She stood before us, exposed and vulnerable and found a congregation of God's people willing to protect and walk the journey with her. You see, she was not a weeping sinner, trying to make it right with God on display for our amusement; she was a sister, trying to make it right with us, the very people she offended.

Only the Spirit of God can do that. In the surreal moment of that long service, sin was not on display. Rather, God's love was on display through His people. This time not just the musicians, the pray-ers, or the preacher. All of God's people displayed it.

What hope I have, that despite my sin, I am loved. I felt safe. I felt protected. I felt loved. For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord. (Rom. 8: 38-39).

Community Presbyterian Church is properly named. We are truly are a Community of God's people.

4theluv