"Beware the barrenness of a busy life." - Socrates
For some reason, April has proven to be a downpour of events demanding attention, detail, most importantly, time. Work commitments, family commitments, sports commitments, governmental (read "tax") commitments, financial commitments, etc. Those who know me know the fiendish schedule I have kept (poorly, I might add) since mid March that has now wound its way through April. Such a schedule has a major impact on all of your relationships and time commitments. And April saw me taking a vacation from my blog, as well, to focus on other things equally important to me.
This morning, as I was reading Brian Cosby's blog on the Sabbath rest, I came to realize that rest is something we disparately need, and for me in particular something I really, really, really desire. It alleviated my personal guilt for not getting everything done, and heightened my longing for the rest which only God can give.
What does the worker gain from his toil? I have seen the burden God has laid on men. He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the hearts of men; yet they cannot fathom what God has done from beginning to end. I know that there is nothing better for men than to be happy and do good while they live. That everyone may eat and drink, and find satisfaction in all his toil—this is the gift of God. I know that everything God does will endure forever; nothing can be added to it and nothing taken from it. God does it so that men will revere him. Ecc. 3:9-14
May, then, shall be a time to share a drink with my friends, a laugh with my wife, a catch with my kids, encouragement with my family, support to my pastor, and love and contentment for the life which God has blessed me with.
With the downpour of spurious activity in April it is my prayer that May will see the flowers of rest.
4theluv
Monday, April 28, 2008
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Failing Up
“Marriage is three parts love and seven parts forgiveness of sins.” - Lao Tzu
Wednesdays are garbage days around the Luv house. That is a special day in our lives, as it is the day that Mrs. 4theluv and I get to review the evidence of our passive aggressive natures. You see, to ask Mrs. 4theluv, it is a constant and continual failing of mine that I don't take the garbage out of the house near as much as needed, nor near as much as Mrs. 4theluv desires.
Now understand, the right time to take the garbage out is the source of debate in many households, not just ours. I am sure many husbands face similar failures in their own lives. But that is only the beginning. See, I am a morally conscious individual. I believe that taking out the trash is not just the man's job, that just about anyone is capable of doing it. The skill set required to take out the garbage is fairly limited, and definitely not gender specific. And, being the politically correct and socially conscious individual that I am, I graciously allow Mrs. 4theluv ample opportunity to prove the equality of the sexes by taking out the trash. Its technically not rocket science. If you see it needs to be taken out, you pull the strings on the bag, and walk it the 40 or so feet to the big garbage can outside.
But Mrs. 4theluv takes an opposite position, at least when it comes to regularly taking out the trash. Now she will take it out on the days that she cleans the refrigerator, particularly if broccoli or some similar odoriferous content needs disposing. Then she will bag it, but set it just outside the door in the garage so that as I pass by it in the morning on my way to work I will carry it the other 30 feet and put in the can which is outside.
Normally, though, she just ignores the need to take out the trash (a trait which I allow to take place)and instead just keeps throwing things away in the garbage by balancing various rubbish on top of other rubbish, creating an almost Dada"esque" creation worthy of Kurt Schwitters. The balancing act is always very delicate, intentionally so, I think. She knows eventually I will take out the trash, and that trash sculpture will crumble like a house of cards.
So, come Wednesday morning, as I am trying to get out the door for work, I will always remember the trash has to go out. I will turn to our leaning tower of refuse that is our main garbage area and try to bag it. Of course, looking around, Mrs. 4theluv is nowhere to be found, but as things scatter on the floor I am certain a smirk crosses her face, as she has once again shown her superiority in this game of oneupmanship (oneupwomanship? oneuppersonship?).
So I get the garbage out, saying a few words I probably shouldn't, and spend the rest of the day feeling like the loser that I am. And, like Lucy pulling the football from Charlie Brown, Mrs. 4theluv gets to enjoy the rest of the day knowing she got me one more time. I wish I would at least get a "thank you" but I am sure that would spoil the fun.
As I reflected on the battle this morning, I began to sense the frustration that Christ must feel with me, with the sin that so easily entangles me, and my refusal AND inability to take it out. And I began to sense that Christ does what he does with me, not for the "thank you", and not out of a sense of waiting to see if I will do it myself, but rather because he loves me, and gave himself for me.
Paul reminded us well. Be imitators of God, therefore, as dearly loved children and live a life of love, just as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us as a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God. [ ... ]Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her to make her holy, cleansing her by the washing with water through the word, (Eph. 5:1-2; 25-26)
I can't get out of mind today how it is that Christ puts up with and carries out my garbage that I pile up for Him. He taught us so many lessons about true love. Forgiveness is an act of love. Service is an act of love. He does it simply because He loves me, and for no other reason. And it is that same love that he calls me to love my wife.
Like many men in our church, I married waaay up. And in that relationship, like every other relationship I am in, like parent, son, sibling, friend, co-worker, I fail consistently. But with relationships built on love, forgiveness is a routine part. And for that, I am the luckiest man alive.
I have received that forgiveness from so many in my life, perhaps I should return that same love. Perhaps I can learn something from the battle of the garbage.
4theluv
Wednesdays are garbage days around the Luv house. That is a special day in our lives, as it is the day that Mrs. 4theluv and I get to review the evidence of our passive aggressive natures. You see, to ask Mrs. 4theluv, it is a constant and continual failing of mine that I don't take the garbage out of the house near as much as needed, nor near as much as Mrs. 4theluv desires.
Now understand, the right time to take the garbage out is the source of debate in many households, not just ours. I am sure many husbands face similar failures in their own lives. But that is only the beginning. See, I am a morally conscious individual. I believe that taking out the trash is not just the man's job, that just about anyone is capable of doing it. The skill set required to take out the garbage is fairly limited, and definitely not gender specific. And, being the politically correct and socially conscious individual that I am, I graciously allow Mrs. 4theluv ample opportunity to prove the equality of the sexes by taking out the trash. Its technically not rocket science. If you see it needs to be taken out, you pull the strings on the bag, and walk it the 40 or so feet to the big garbage can outside.
But Mrs. 4theluv takes an opposite position, at least when it comes to regularly taking out the trash. Now she will take it out on the days that she cleans the refrigerator, particularly if broccoli or some similar odoriferous content needs disposing. Then she will bag it, but set it just outside the door in the garage so that as I pass by it in the morning on my way to work I will carry it the other 30 feet and put in the can which is outside.
Normally, though, she just ignores the need to take out the trash (a trait which I allow to take place)and instead just keeps throwing things away in the garbage by balancing various rubbish on top of other rubbish, creating an almost Dada"esque" creation worthy of Kurt Schwitters. The balancing act is always very delicate, intentionally so, I think. She knows eventually I will take out the trash, and that trash sculpture will crumble like a house of cards.
So, come Wednesday morning, as I am trying to get out the door for work, I will always remember the trash has to go out. I will turn to our leaning tower of refuse that is our main garbage area and try to bag it. Of course, looking around, Mrs. 4theluv is nowhere to be found, but as things scatter on the floor I am certain a smirk crosses her face, as she has once again shown her superiority in this game of oneupmanship (oneupwomanship? oneuppersonship?).
So I get the garbage out, saying a few words I probably shouldn't, and spend the rest of the day feeling like the loser that I am. And, like Lucy pulling the football from Charlie Brown, Mrs. 4theluv gets to enjoy the rest of the day knowing she got me one more time. I wish I would at least get a "thank you" but I am sure that would spoil the fun.
As I reflected on the battle this morning, I began to sense the frustration that Christ must feel with me, with the sin that so easily entangles me, and my refusal AND inability to take it out. And I began to sense that Christ does what he does with me, not for the "thank you", and not out of a sense of waiting to see if I will do it myself, but rather because he loves me, and gave himself for me.
Paul reminded us well. Be imitators of God, therefore, as dearly loved children and live a life of love, just as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us as a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God. [ ... ]Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her to make her holy, cleansing her by the washing with water through the word, (Eph. 5:1-2; 25-26)
I can't get out of mind today how it is that Christ puts up with and carries out my garbage that I pile up for Him. He taught us so many lessons about true love. Forgiveness is an act of love. Service is an act of love. He does it simply because He loves me, and for no other reason. And it is that same love that he calls me to love my wife.
Like many men in our church, I married waaay up. And in that relationship, like every other relationship I am in, like parent, son, sibling, friend, co-worker, I fail consistently. But with relationships built on love, forgiveness is a routine part. And for that, I am the luckiest man alive.
I have received that forgiveness from so many in my life, perhaps I should return that same love. Perhaps I can learn something from the battle of the garbage.
4theluv
Monday, March 24, 2008
Twilight Sunrise
"In the bonds of Death He lay Who for our offence was slain; But the Lord is risen to-day, Christ hath brought us life again, Wherefore let us all rejoice, Singing loud, with cheerful voice, Hallelujah!" - Martin Luther
As a fifth grader my class took a trip to Mammoth caves in Kentucky. At one point in the tour, the tour guide had us all in one particular part of the cave and turned out the lights to show us what true darkness really looked like. If you have ever been in a similar situation, you know that real darkness, the true absence of light, is pretty scary, and the hope and knowledge that the lights will come back on takes the edge off of the fear, the darkness just an experiment. But in those moments of darkness is the helplessness and fear of a life dependent on someone else for the light of safety and rescue.
Darkness is one of those things which is experienced in isolation. But real darkness is not relegated to the caverns of Kentucky. Light and life seem to go hand in hand in the metaphysic of human existence and experience.
The poet Dylan Thomas wrote his famous poem about the death of his father, Do Not Go Gentle Into That Goodnight, with those same allusions of light vs. death:
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
It is no doubt that the death of those close to us leaves a black hole of darkness from which it is difficult to rise. It is little wonder that at the moment Jesus died there was complete darkness for 3 hours. That darkness must have given temporary pause to the priests, scribes, and Romans who had sentenced Jesus to death, making them question what they had done. But then came the ninth hour, and the lights came on, and all seemed basically right with the world. The sun would rise tomorrow, just like it had every other day.
But not so with the disciples. The black hole created by the death of Christ was huge, and lingered way beyond the temporary darkness witnessed by all. While others went about their passover feasts and festivities, mocking this man that had thought he was the Son of God. Like the rest, the death of Christ had caused those who had believed in Christ to wonder why they had followed such an obviously deluded man. They hunkered down in fear, expecting any moment that those who had killed Jesus were coming for them. In those days, death was their constant companion, and their fear of reprisal for following Jesus was real.
The black hole was particularly tough for the remaining eleven. These disciples were personally as crushed as the dreams of their glory of being the advisors to the new king of Israel. You will recall earlier the Bar Zebedee boys had asked to be on Christ's right and left side when he came into his kingdom. Yet on the day He died, to his right and left were two criminals receiving the penalty of their government for their crimes. Nowhere to be found were the Zebedee boys, having saved their own necks and left Jesus to die.
Little did these disciples know in those two dark days that death would stalk them the rest of their lives, but the fear of it would be a thing of the past. They would meet the resurrected Christ, and know that death is not the end, but only the beginning. So shattering was their meeting with the resurrected Lord, that they went forth, hoping to die for his name. No longer would they hide in fear, for there was nothing the priests, the scribes, the Romans could do to them to hurt them.
Only through the resurrection, the sure knowledge that death has no power to kill, is there true freedom to live. And only when you know the resurrected Christ, can you face the darkness with certainty.
"Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?" The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God! He gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ." (I Cor 15:55-57).
Death is no longer the journey into the night. And Easter is the reminder to us that death is as momentary and essential as birth, but is no longer something to be feared. For Christ Himself is our life. The dark caves of Kentucky reveal nothing of the truth of Christ, but the inability to find Him on our own. Thanks be to God, He has gone there before us.
4theluv
As a fifth grader my class took a trip to Mammoth caves in Kentucky. At one point in the tour, the tour guide had us all in one particular part of the cave and turned out the lights to show us what true darkness really looked like. If you have ever been in a similar situation, you know that real darkness, the true absence of light, is pretty scary, and the hope and knowledge that the lights will come back on takes the edge off of the fear, the darkness just an experiment. But in those moments of darkness is the helplessness and fear of a life dependent on someone else for the light of safety and rescue.
Darkness is one of those things which is experienced in isolation. But real darkness is not relegated to the caverns of Kentucky. Light and life seem to go hand in hand in the metaphysic of human existence and experience.
The poet Dylan Thomas wrote his famous poem about the death of his father, Do Not Go Gentle Into That Goodnight, with those same allusions of light vs. death:
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
It is no doubt that the death of those close to us leaves a black hole of darkness from which it is difficult to rise. It is little wonder that at the moment Jesus died there was complete darkness for 3 hours. That darkness must have given temporary pause to the priests, scribes, and Romans who had sentenced Jesus to death, making them question what they had done. But then came the ninth hour, and the lights came on, and all seemed basically right with the world. The sun would rise tomorrow, just like it had every other day.
But not so with the disciples. The black hole created by the death of Christ was huge, and lingered way beyond the temporary darkness witnessed by all. While others went about their passover feasts and festivities, mocking this man that had thought he was the Son of God. Like the rest, the death of Christ had caused those who had believed in Christ to wonder why they had followed such an obviously deluded man. They hunkered down in fear, expecting any moment that those who had killed Jesus were coming for them. In those days, death was their constant companion, and their fear of reprisal for following Jesus was real.
The black hole was particularly tough for the remaining eleven. These disciples were personally as crushed as the dreams of their glory of being the advisors to the new king of Israel. You will recall earlier the Bar Zebedee boys had asked to be on Christ's right and left side when he came into his kingdom. Yet on the day He died, to his right and left were two criminals receiving the penalty of their government for their crimes. Nowhere to be found were the Zebedee boys, having saved their own necks and left Jesus to die.
Little did these disciples know in those two dark days that death would stalk them the rest of their lives, but the fear of it would be a thing of the past. They would meet the resurrected Christ, and know that death is not the end, but only the beginning. So shattering was their meeting with the resurrected Lord, that they went forth, hoping to die for his name. No longer would they hide in fear, for there was nothing the priests, the scribes, the Romans could do to them to hurt them.
Only through the resurrection, the sure knowledge that death has no power to kill, is there true freedom to live. And only when you know the resurrected Christ, can you face the darkness with certainty.
"Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?" The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God! He gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ." (I Cor 15:55-57).
Death is no longer the journey into the night. And Easter is the reminder to us that death is as momentary and essential as birth, but is no longer something to be feared. For Christ Himself is our life. The dark caves of Kentucky reveal nothing of the truth of Christ, but the inability to find Him on our own. Thanks be to God, He has gone there before us.
4theluv
Thursday, March 20, 2008
The View from Below
"Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world." - John the Baptist
When he had received the drink, Jesus said, "It is finished." With that, he bowed his head and gave up his spirit. (John 19:30)
Would it be that we not forget, the sin that cost us God, nor the God who bought us back, nor the price - His Son, our Lord. Amen.
4theluv
* Stanzas removed by 4theluv for doctrinal reasons.
| STABAT Mater dolorosa iuxta Crucem lacrimosa, dum pendebat Filius. | AT the Cross her station keeping, stood the mournful Mother weeping, close to Jesus to the last. |
| Cuius animam gementem, contristatam et dolentem pertransivit gladius. | Through her heart, His sorrow sharing, all His bitter anguish bearing, now at length the sword has passed. |
| O quam tristis et afflicta fuit illa benedicta, mater Unigeniti! | O how sad and sore distressed was that Mother, highly blest, of the sole-begotten One. |
| Quae maerebat et dolebat, pia Mater, dum videbat nati poenas inclyti. | Christ above in torment hangs, she beneath beholds the pangs of her dying glorious Son. |
| Quis est homo qui non fleret, matrem Christi si videret in tanto supplicio? | Is there one who would not weep, whelmed in miseries so deep, Christ's dear Mother to behold? |
| Quis non posset contristari Christi Matrem contemplari dolentem cum Filio? | Can the human heart refrain from partaking in her pain, in that Mother's pain untold? |
| Pro peccatis suae gentis vidit Iesum in tormentis, et flagellis subditum. | Bruised, derided, cursed, defiled, she beheld her tender Child All with scourges rent: |
| Vidit suum dulcem Natum moriendo desolatum, dum emisit spiritum. | For the sins of His own nation, saw Him hang in desolation, Till His spirit forth He sent. |
| Eia, Mater, fons amoris me sentire vim doloris fac, ut tecum lugeam. | O thou Mother! fount of love! Touch my spirit from above, make my heart with thine accord: |
| Fac, ut ardeat cor meum in amando Christum Deum ut sibi complaceam. | Make me feel as thou hast felt; make my soul to glow and melt with the love of Christ my Lord. |
| Sancta Mater, istud agas, crucifixi fige plagas cordi meo valide. | Holy Mother! pierce me through, in my heart each wound renew of my Savior crucified: |
| Tui Nati vulnerati, tam dignati pro me pati, poenas mecum divide. | Let me share with thee His pain, who for all my sins was slain, who for me in torments died. |
| Fac me tecum pie flere, crucifixo condolere, donec ego vixero. | Let me mingle tears with thee, mourning Him who mourned for me, all the days that I may live: |
| Iuxta Crucem tecum stare, et me tibi sociare in planctu desidero. | By the Cross with thee to stay, there with thee to weep and pray, is all I ask of thee to give. |
| Virgo virginum praeclara, mihi iam non sis amara, fac me tecum plangere. | Virgin of all virgins blest!, Listen to my fond request: let me share thy grief divine; |
| Fac, ut portem Christi mortem, passionis fac consortem, et plagas recolere. | Let me, to my latest breath, in my body bear the death of that dying Son of thine. |
| Fac me plagis vulnerari, fac me Cruce inebriari, et cruore Filii. | Wounded with His every wound, steep my soul till it hath swooned, in His very Blood away; |
| * | |
| Christe, cum sit hinc exire, da per Matrem me venire ad palmam victoriae. | Christ, when Thou shalt call me hence, by Thy Mother my defense, by Thy Cross my victory; |
| Quando corpus morietur, fac, ut animae donetur paradisi gloria. Amen. | While my body here decays, may my soul Thy goodness praise, Safe in paradise with Thee. Amen. |
When he had received the drink, Jesus said, "It is finished." With that, he bowed his head and gave up his spirit. (John 19:30)
Would it be that we not forget, the sin that cost us God, nor the God who bought us back, nor the price - His Son, our Lord. Amen.
4theluv
* Stanzas removed by 4theluv for doctrinal reasons.
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