12/29/2005
The Ring
NUMBER 125
The Ring
On Christmas morning we got into the car to go to church. My child bride took her ring off and, wearing slacks and a short wool jacket, had no lap—so she tucked her ring into the bottom buttonhole of her jacket. This is a very favorite ring—nine sapphires purchased in Brazil many years ago.
Joan, and untold generations of her foremothers stretching back into the misty realms of prehistory, has always lived by an iron rule – “Take off your rings before you anoint your hands with creams and oils.” The rationale for this is that the grease collects, dulls the glitter, and retains dirt.
Often this ritual takes place in a car. The result often is that the anointer-of-hands is distracted, forgets the ring, and the ring gets tossed out on the ground when she leaves the car. I suspect that many of the rings found by those guys with the metal detectors were lost this way.
Joan has come close but never lost a valuable ring this way, as far as I know. But she is aware of the risk, that’s why she tucked the ring into the buttonhole. Due to past close calls, she usually puts the ring in her lips, but the buttonhole was just the right size and handy.
We arrived at church. I dropped her at the door and she made it through the throng of Welcomers, some Christmas hugs from friends and down the aisle to the second row before I caught up with her. We were getting nicely settled when she looked down and there it was, the ring in the buttonhole.
I am not sure what she thought, what I thought was, “Another close call—maybe this would be a good time to rethink the iron rule about rings and hand cream.
We were both grateful that we didn’t need to start a search, like the woman who lost her coin in the 15th chapter of Luke’s Gospel.
The Ring
On Christmas morning we got into the car to go to church. My child bride took her ring off and, wearing slacks and a short wool jacket, had no lap—so she tucked her ring into the bottom buttonhole of her jacket. This is a very favorite ring—nine sapphires purchased in Brazil many years ago.
Joan, and untold generations of her foremothers stretching back into the misty realms of prehistory, has always lived by an iron rule – “Take off your rings before you anoint your hands with creams and oils.” The rationale for this is that the grease collects, dulls the glitter, and retains dirt.
Often this ritual takes place in a car. The result often is that the anointer-of-hands is distracted, forgets the ring, and the ring gets tossed out on the ground when she leaves the car. I suspect that many of the rings found by those guys with the metal detectors were lost this way.
Joan has come close but never lost a valuable ring this way, as far as I know. But she is aware of the risk, that’s why she tucked the ring into the buttonhole. Due to past close calls, she usually puts the ring in her lips, but the buttonhole was just the right size and handy.
We arrived at church. I dropped her at the door and she made it through the throng of Welcomers, some Christmas hugs from friends and down the aisle to the second row before I caught up with her. We were getting nicely settled when she looked down and there it was, the ring in the buttonhole.
I am not sure what she thought, what I thought was, “Another close call—maybe this would be a good time to rethink the iron rule about rings and hand cream.
We were both grateful that we didn’t need to start a search, like the woman who lost her coin in the 15th chapter of Luke’s Gospel.
12/24/2005
MICAH
NUMBER 125 Micah’s Story
Oompah!discussionphobes take note. You won’t see Oompah! mentioned in the attached document, but he is there nonetheless. So if Oompah! gives you the vapors, pass this one by.
Micah is a young friend of mine who lives in Mbale, Uganda. His father, Dr. Ben Warf is a pediatric neurosurgeon who runs the CURE children’s hospital there. Micah’s older sister is a second year student at Houghton College where Micah will be going next September. He has a stay at home Mom, Cindy, and 4 younger siblings, two boys and two girls. They are all home schooled.
When Micah first ran across Oomphah! in the Summer of 2004 he began an email dialogue with me that has been fascinating, instructive and a real blessing. As a part of his submission for an honors semester on world history in England next year he has written a paper about his attempt to reconcile his love of Contemporary Christian Music and his uneasiness with the Sunday morning rock concert that passes for worship in many churches today.
I have attached Micah’s paper to this email--it is 45 pages, a 400+ KB file. Micah has given me permission to distribute it to any of you who might be interested. You may not agree with his conclusions, but if you care about the Glory of God, the state of the Church and the mind of the younger generation, it would be well worth your reading. You may even find your ability to distinguish that which is flesh from that which is spirit improved in the reading.
If you want the paper, click "mail me" on the right and ask me for it. I will send it to you.
Oompah!discussionphobes take note. You won’t see Oompah! mentioned in the attached document, but he is there nonetheless. So if Oompah! gives you the vapors, pass this one by.
Micah is a young friend of mine who lives in Mbale, Uganda. His father, Dr. Ben Warf is a pediatric neurosurgeon who runs the CURE children’s hospital there. Micah’s older sister is a second year student at Houghton College where Micah will be going next September. He has a stay at home Mom, Cindy, and 4 younger siblings, two boys and two girls. They are all home schooled.
When Micah first ran across Oomphah! in the Summer of 2004 he began an email dialogue with me that has been fascinating, instructive and a real blessing. As a part of his submission for an honors semester on world history in England next year he has written a paper about his attempt to reconcile his love of Contemporary Christian Music and his uneasiness with the Sunday morning rock concert that passes for worship in many churches today.
I have attached Micah’s paper to this email--it is 45 pages, a 400+ KB file. Micah has given me permission to distribute it to any of you who might be interested. You may not agree with his conclusions, but if you care about the Glory of God, the state of the Church and the mind of the younger generation, it would be well worth your reading. You may even find your ability to distinguish that which is flesh from that which is spirit improved in the reading.
If you want the paper, click "mail me" on the right and ask me for it. I will send it to you.
12/14/2005
A PILGRIM SONG
NUMBER 124
A Pilgrim Song
This will probably not strike you as a Christmas song, unless you are many years into your journey. But it is a song to be sung at this time of the year because of a birthday we celebrate. This is the birthday of the Word made flesh, who pitched His tent among us and whose glory we beheld, the glory as of the only begotten of the Father, full of grace and truth. He is the One who died on a cross for our sins, was buried and rose in three days, victorious over sin and death. Today He sits at the right hand of the Father and waits there for every ransomed pilgrim.
Even those blessed with good health, material provision, family support, and all the things we give thanks for, find life finally begins to narrow. The road often leads down into a dark wood and eventually to the edge of a cold river. But across that river there is a golden sunrise, a new day, in the everlasting presence of the King of Kings. None of this would have been possible without that Baby in the manger.
BESIDE THE FIRE
"The future shrinks…" Dana Gioia
The dark ring slowly closes in
Around our flickering fire.
The coals are slowly growing cold
Like all of life's desire.
Outside the shrinking ring of light
Lupine eyes are glowing bright.
The smoky souls of ancient trees
First burn our eyes then usher in
Troops of dancing memories
Of things that were and other things
That might have been.
Time flees away before our eyes
That day by day are growing dim.
Words move too fast for our slow ears,
Our sleep is troubled by a host of fears.
And so we pray by night and day
And sing the Psalms that make it clear
Within His fold we need not fear.
Just when the future's narrowed
To a point, and darkness seems complete
We cross the veil and see the Son
And worship at His piercéd feet
And shout with joy for all things new
That faith has always held are true.
We walk the streets of gold like glass
While ages of ages slowly pass
And time, though passing, never presses
As He who made us always blesses.
JS
8.2003
+++++++
“Now to Him who is able to keep you from stumbling, and to make you stand in the presence of His glory blameless with great joy, to the only God our Savior, through Jesus Christ our Lord, be glory, majesty, dominion and authority, before all time, and now and forever. Amen"
Jude 1.25-26
A Pilgrim Song
This will probably not strike you as a Christmas song, unless you are many years into your journey. But it is a song to be sung at this time of the year because of a birthday we celebrate. This is the birthday of the Word made flesh, who pitched His tent among us and whose glory we beheld, the glory as of the only begotten of the Father, full of grace and truth. He is the One who died on a cross for our sins, was buried and rose in three days, victorious over sin and death. Today He sits at the right hand of the Father and waits there for every ransomed pilgrim.
Even those blessed with good health, material provision, family support, and all the things we give thanks for, find life finally begins to narrow. The road often leads down into a dark wood and eventually to the edge of a cold river. But across that river there is a golden sunrise, a new day, in the everlasting presence of the King of Kings. None of this would have been possible without that Baby in the manger.
BESIDE THE FIRE
"The future shrinks…" Dana Gioia
The dark ring slowly closes in
Around our flickering fire.
The coals are slowly growing cold
Like all of life's desire.
Outside the shrinking ring of light
Lupine eyes are glowing bright.
The smoky souls of ancient trees
First burn our eyes then usher in
Troops of dancing memories
Of things that were and other things
That might have been.
Time flees away before our eyes
That day by day are growing dim.
Words move too fast for our slow ears,
Our sleep is troubled by a host of fears.
And so we pray by night and day
And sing the Psalms that make it clear
Within His fold we need not fear.
Just when the future's narrowed
To a point, and darkness seems complete
We cross the veil and see the Son
And worship at His piercéd feet
And shout with joy for all things new
That faith has always held are true.
We walk the streets of gold like glass
While ages of ages slowly pass
And time, though passing, never presses
As He who made us always blesses.
JS
8.2003
+++++++
“Now to Him who is able to keep you from stumbling, and to make you stand in the presence of His glory blameless with great joy, to the only God our Savior, through Jesus Christ our Lord, be glory, majesty, dominion and authority, before all time, and now and forever. Amen"
Jude 1.25-26
12/07/2005
ADVENT
Number 123
Advent
ADVENT
The wheel turns,
The snow falls, grows grimy, melts away,
Night follows day in orderly procession:
No single one distinguished by excellence.
Like a pendulum we swing
From order to confusion,
From purpose to questioning,
From sunlight to shadow:
Intermittent, not quite random,
But always seeming to average out
In the end.
Through all our ways
There runs the golden thread
Of some great promise
Not kept,
Some great ambition
Not fulfilled,
Some lofty dream
Unrealized,
Some great joy
Undiscovered,
Some overwhelming question
Unanswered…
This world is too much with us.
And then it comes again,
The birthday of Mary’s Boy—
Wonderful Counselor,
Mighty God,
Everlasting Father,
Prince of Peace—
The Divine Keeper of all promises,
The Holy Fulfillment of all just ambitions,
The Blessed Reality of the highest dreams,
The Fountain of all Joy, full of Glory,
The Final Answer to all our questions.
JS
12/05
030-2
+++++++
“The Word became flesh and blood,
And moved into the neighborhood.
We saw the glory with our own eyes,
The one-of-a-kind glory,
Like Father, like Son,
Generous inside and out,
True from start to finish.”
John 1.14 The Message
Advent
ADVENT
The wheel turns,
The snow falls, grows grimy, melts away,
Night follows day in orderly procession:
No single one distinguished by excellence.
Like a pendulum we swing
From order to confusion,
From purpose to questioning,
From sunlight to shadow:
Intermittent, not quite random,
But always seeming to average out
In the end.
Through all our ways
There runs the golden thread
Of some great promise
Not kept,
Some great ambition
Not fulfilled,
Some lofty dream
Unrealized,
Some great joy
Undiscovered,
Some overwhelming question
Unanswered…
This world is too much with us.
And then it comes again,
The birthday of Mary’s Boy—
Wonderful Counselor,
Mighty God,
Everlasting Father,
Prince of Peace—
The Divine Keeper of all promises,
The Holy Fulfillment of all just ambitions,
The Blessed Reality of the highest dreams,
The Fountain of all Joy, full of Glory,
The Final Answer to all our questions.
JS
12/05
030-2
+++++++
“The Word became flesh and blood,
And moved into the neighborhood.
We saw the glory with our own eyes,
The one-of-a-kind glory,
Like Father, like Son,
Generous inside and out,
True from start to finish.”
John 1.14 The Message
12/02/2005
NASCAR GREAT GRAND DAD
NUMBER ONE HUNDRED
TWENTY-TWO
NASCAR Great Grand Dad
My wife’s father was 99 last August. His circle of life has been constantly getting smaller. He has gone from driving to walking to a walker to a wheel chair. He has always been pretty speedy, whether car or walker or chair. His eyes have gone from reading the small print in his Bible to wishing he could read the large print in the newspaper headlines. But he is an optimist, living one day at a time, making the most of what he has.
Due to a couple of strokes, his right hand is no longer as nimble as it was in the days he helped students find the right nerves in the frog on the lab table. When the powers at the health center finally restricted him to the wheelchair, he learned to move it and steer it with his feet. In spite of his poor eyesight, he has been fast and accurate. He has always managed to miss the various obstacles in the hallways and keep moving at a good pace.
Every day he makes 4 trips around the rectangle that makes up the health center. These trips are often the highlight of his day. Normally he doesn’t expect or want one of us to push him but when we arrived this time and were going to take him to see his sister-in-law, Trudie, who still is able to manage in her own apartment, he raised his feet to be pushed.
As I made the first turn outside his room, the chair wanted to go straight. Once we got going down the hall, the chair had a tendency to pull to the right or the left. And things dragged. It was like driving a badly aligned car with four soft tires. I said, “Dad, have you been having trouble steering this thing?” He admitted he had, and even that, uncharacteristically, he had mentioned it to the nurses, telling them he wanted a different chair.
When we arrived at Trudie’s apartment, I helped him into an arm chair and tipped his wheelchair over. Both the axels and the posts of the front casters were stiff. I put a few drops of oil in the right places and while I was at it, I oiled the main wheels as well.
When we were ready to leave I helped him back into his wheel-chair. Out in the hall on the carpet he took off like a shot. The rest of the day he was out ahead of us like a child at the zoo. When we got back to the health center area, one of the nurses noticed that he had returned to his normal warp speed.
A few drops of oil is a very small thing. Often the elderly don’t want to bother someone to help them out—even sometimes are not able to clearly define the problem. But we have found there is almost always some small thing to do for those whose lives are restricted and diminished by age and illness. Trudie has a little stock of tools on her closet shelf, ready for use by whomever she can snag to do a little fix. I have never been to see her that she didn’t have at least one simple thing I could do.
This kind of help isn’t rocket science. All it takes is an awareness there are things the elderly can’t do sometimes, things that fall through the cracks of even the best retirement facilities and health centers, things that almost any casual visitor can take care of.
+++++++
“You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your strength, and with all your mind, and you shall love your neighbor as yourself.”
Luke 10.27
TWENTY-TWO
NASCAR Great Grand Dad
My wife’s father was 99 last August. His circle of life has been constantly getting smaller. He has gone from driving to walking to a walker to a wheel chair. He has always been pretty speedy, whether car or walker or chair. His eyes have gone from reading the small print in his Bible to wishing he could read the large print in the newspaper headlines. But he is an optimist, living one day at a time, making the most of what he has.
Due to a couple of strokes, his right hand is no longer as nimble as it was in the days he helped students find the right nerves in the frog on the lab table. When the powers at the health center finally restricted him to the wheelchair, he learned to move it and steer it with his feet. In spite of his poor eyesight, he has been fast and accurate. He has always managed to miss the various obstacles in the hallways and keep moving at a good pace.
Every day he makes 4 trips around the rectangle that makes up the health center. These trips are often the highlight of his day. Normally he doesn’t expect or want one of us to push him but when we arrived this time and were going to take him to see his sister-in-law, Trudie, who still is able to manage in her own apartment, he raised his feet to be pushed.
As I made the first turn outside his room, the chair wanted to go straight. Once we got going down the hall, the chair had a tendency to pull to the right or the left. And things dragged. It was like driving a badly aligned car with four soft tires. I said, “Dad, have you been having trouble steering this thing?” He admitted he had, and even that, uncharacteristically, he had mentioned it to the nurses, telling them he wanted a different chair.
When we arrived at Trudie’s apartment, I helped him into an arm chair and tipped his wheelchair over. Both the axels and the posts of the front casters were stiff. I put a few drops of oil in the right places and while I was at it, I oiled the main wheels as well.
When we were ready to leave I helped him back into his wheel-chair. Out in the hall on the carpet he took off like a shot. The rest of the day he was out ahead of us like a child at the zoo. When we got back to the health center area, one of the nurses noticed that he had returned to his normal warp speed.
A few drops of oil is a very small thing. Often the elderly don’t want to bother someone to help them out—even sometimes are not able to clearly define the problem. But we have found there is almost always some small thing to do for those whose lives are restricted and diminished by age and illness. Trudie has a little stock of tools on her closet shelf, ready for use by whomever she can snag to do a little fix. I have never been to see her that she didn’t have at least one simple thing I could do.
This kind of help isn’t rocket science. All it takes is an awareness there are things the elderly can’t do sometimes, things that fall through the cracks of even the best retirement facilities and health centers, things that almost any casual visitor can take care of.
+++++++
“You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your strength, and with all your mind, and you shall love your neighbor as yourself.”
Luke 10.27
