Monday Morning Music Ministry

2-26-24

I am going to take you on a brief tour of some surprising places. I have had the wanderlust all my life, and have discovered that some legendary places (the “Room with a View”) can be mundane; and some very memorable sites greet us unannounced.

For instance, strolling around Venice (yes, one can walk around that city), I once turned a corner and came face-to-face with a plaque identifying a modest building as the birthplace of composer Antonio Vivaldi. It seemed to me like holy ground.

In Rome I stood in the plaza in front of the meticulously preserved Pantheon, where once stood the Temple Agrippa. Inside are the tombs of the artist Raphael and the composer Arcangelo Corelli (I think one of the most beautiful names ever borne by a person) but the plaza is where St Paul, having arrived in Rome by foot along the Appian Way, first shared the Gospel in the seat of the Roman Empire. I stood where he stood. Holier ground.

In Ireland, at a roadside stop by a modest chapel, I saw in its even more modest cemetery the gravestone of the great poet William Butler Yeats… revealed by no special markers nor arrows. By pure serendipity I found myself on holy ground, as it felt to me; secular – but you may know what I mean.

I had a similar experience at the other corner of Ireland, so to speak. A friend and I had traversed, roughly, the perimeter of that wonderful island over two weeks. Near the vacation’s end we sought lodgings outside Belfast. Rather by chance – without, that is, any premonition of another “holy ground” experience in the offing – we found ourselves in a little village called Crawfordsburn in County Down. There was an ancient Old Inn (it calls itself), rambling and half-timbered. It had charms and, most importantly, a room to rent and a restaurant.

I was startled to read an unpretentious plaque on the wall when I registered. It stated that decades ago members of the legendary Inklings group occasionally met there (otherwise, more famously, in Oxford, in England). That was the famous circle of literary friends that included C S Lewis and J R R Tolkien. Moreover, since its establishment in 1614 the Old Inn had been a meeting place for writers including Swift, Tennyson, Thackeray, and Dickens. Holy ground, of sorts, for me, a writer.

Most pertinent, or compelling, according to the plaque, was that the Old Inn was where C S Lewis and his wife Joy Davidman spent their honeymoon.

Most readers will be quite familiar with Lewis’s classic stories in the Chronicles of Narnia books. I had not read them (almost alone among my friends and my own children). I hope that you readers are familiar with Lewis’s life and his tragically short marriage to Joy; there have been books and movies about them. Married late in life, Lewis was a former atheist who came to a saving, and influential, relationship with Christ. He fell in love with Joy, an American Jewess who died of cancer only four years into their marriage. Shadowlands is one telling of their remarkable and bittersweet life together.

The feeling of a presence on “Holy Ground” was scarcely related, I have said, to The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe or such classics. But C S Lewis was also known for his writing (and BBC broadcasts) as one of the greatest of all Christian apologists of any era; he was gifted to explain the Gospel in logical, layman’s terms. (By the way, Lewis’s favorite poet was Yeats; what a trip of “coincidences” that was for me!)

I am only one of millions whose faith has been awakened, challenged, informed, illuminated, inspired, and fortified by the simple truths C S Lewis powerfully explained and gently shared. Of his many works in the field (The Screwtape Letters; A Grief Observed; Surprised by Joy) the thin collection of essays Mere Christianity is the enduring classic.

I can paraphrase his powerful refutation of the common human tendency to acknowledge (really, dismiss) Jesus as “merely” a great teacher:

I want to prevent anyone from saying, “I’m ready to accept Jesus as a great moral teacher, but I don’t accept his claim to be God.” That is the one thing you cannot say! A man who was merely a man but made the claims Jesus did would not be a great moral teacher; he would either be a lunatic – like a man who says he is a poached egg – or evil. Or the biggest of all liars.

You must make your choice. Either this Man was, and is, the Son of God, or else a madman or something worse. You can shut Him up for a fool, you can spit at Him and kill Him as a demon… or you can fall at His feet and call him Lord and God. But let us not come with any patronizing nonsense about His being a great human teacher.

He has not left that open to us. He did not intend to.

Such is the beginning – perhaps, even, the culmination – of arguments you can make about this Jesus with atheists, agnostics, skeptics, scoffers, and, actually, your own self when you have moments of doubt.

C S Lewis brilliantly allowed us to relate to the Incarnation of God Almighty. Mighty? Yes. Distant, unapproachable? No. We can know Him as the Lover of our souls.

And, knowing Him… we can stand on holy ground.

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Click: Jesus Lover of My Soul

2-19-24

This essay is published mid-way between the birth day of Abraham Lincoln and the homogenized American consumer-holiday called Presidents Day.

The imports and legacies of great Americans like Lincoln and Washington cannot be ameliorated by the elevation of three-day weekends and used-car commercials with buffoons dressed in stovepipe hats. But the unrelenting trashing of American traditions continues in uncountable ways, from legislation and court decisions, to entertainment and media content, to re-branding the formerly solemn regard once paid to icons of our heritage.

Yet figures like Abraham Lincoln survive.

Lincoln is the closest we have had to a civic saint: certainly a secular saint for his wisdom, words, and actions. I think so partly because he was not exalted, except by ballots, but more as he was the simplest of men; common; honest. Literally, a typical American.

Theodore Roosevelt (whom readers know I also revere) framed his assessment of Lincoln (and George Washington): “There have been other men as great and other men as good; but in all the history of mankind there are no other two great men as good as these.”

More than anything, we are struck by Lincoln’s humanity. He was forever patient. He arrived at policies amid anguish, but he executed them firmly. He knew firsthand the turmoil of broken families, brothers fighting brothers; he suffered all these painful tests and duties. We know he kept his sense of humor. But what I have come to admire as much as any other trait is Lincoln’s faith.

It is a matter of debate how “religious” Lincoln was; whether he accepted Jesus as the Son of God; whether he believed in salvation or the need of personal salvation. It is not a matter of debate that he seldom attended or joined churches. It is a matter of record that he read the Bible his entire life, quoted even obscure verses often, and laced his speeches and writing with Bible quotations, scriptural allusions, King James cadences.

We cannot judge most of these things: some close friends like his longtime Illinois law partner Billy Herndon claimed that Lincoln was a gnarly heathen – but Herndon’s relationship was always rocky, and he wrote a biography of Lincoln after the assassination that sniped at a hundred minor particulars. However, Lincoln’s personal secretary John Hay (another hero of mine, by the way; a neglected figure in history), testified to Lincoln’s spiritual struggles, and his reliance on prayer in the White House. This was a time, generally, of private expressions of faith, when many Christians thought that respecting Christ’s teachings was more important than publicly affirming His divinity (this is not a recent phenomenon!), and when Old Testament lessons were preached more than New Testament parables. And many babies received Hebrew names.

Yet it was also a time, despite these anomalies of private beliefs and public expressions, of latter-day “Great Awakenings” as they are called, when waves of revivals spread throughout America, and when conversions to Christianity led to movements like Abolitionism, against slavery.

There are aspects of Lincoln’s faith in Christ that are beyond doubt. The pressures of holding a country together, and prosecuting a horrendous war, coincided with Lincoln’s growing faith. It is inspiring to read of this evolution (and I have read more than 65 books on Lincoln, including his complete letters and all his speeches), but most inspiring is to read his own words.

Lincoln, during his last years, displayed a steady progression of appeals to God… invocations of Providence… references to Jesus as Savior… seeking the Lord’s guidance… biblical quotations… allusions to Bible history… setting aside national days of prayer, as well as fasting, humiliation, and thanksgiving; a multitude of times; and with increasing clarity and spiritual contexts. By the end of the war, the speeches and proclamations of President Lincoln resembled actual sermons, always beseeching God in humility, never presumption; always inspiring.

It is this Abraham Lincoln we remember today.

Some of his quotations included his reference in the first inaugural address to “a firm reliance on Him who has never yet forsaken this favored land.” In the second address, “the judgments of the Lord are true and righteous altogether.” And of course his reference in the Gettysburg Address that this “nation shall under God have a new birth of freedom.”

A proclamation:
It is fit and becoming in all people, at all times, to acknowledge and revere the Supreme Government of God; to bow in humble submission to His chastisement; to confess and deplore their sins and transgressions in the full conviction that the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom; and to pray, with all fervency and contrition, for the pardon of their past offenses, and for a blessing upon their present and prospective action. And whereas when our own beloved country, once, by the blessings of God, united, prosperous and happy, is now afflicted with faction and civil war, it is peculiarly fit for us to recognize the hand of God in this terrible visitation, and in sorrowful remembrance of our own faults and crimes as a nation and as individuals, to humble ourselves before Him and to pray for His mercy.

In private communication, 1862:
We are indeed going through a great trial – a fiery trial. In the very responsible position in which I happened to be placed, being a humble instrument in the hands of our Heavenly Father, as I am, and as we all are, to work out His great purposes, I have desired that all my works and acts may be according to His will, and that it might be so, I have sought His aid.

About his “dark” moments when Lee’s army invaded Pennsylvania, Lincoln wrote:
When everyone seemed panic-stricken… I went to my room… and got down on my knees before Almighty God and prayed… Soon a sweet comfort crept into my soul that God Almighty had taken the whole business into His own hands….

During the war, Lincoln responded to someone’s wish that “the Lord was on the Union’s side.” Lincoln responded:
I am not at all concerned about that, for I know that the Lord is always on the side of the right. But it is my constant anxiety and prayer that I and this nation should be on the Lord’s side.

Lincoln said about the Bible:
In regard to this Great Book, I have but to say I believe the Bible is the best gift God has given to man. All the good Savior gave to the world was communicated through this Book.

And other reflections:
I have been driven many times upon my knees by the overwhelming conviction that I had nowhere else to go. My own wisdom and that of all about me seemed insufficient for that day.

God loves us the way we are, but too much to leave us that way. I have held many things in my hands, and I have lost them all; but whatever I have placed in God’s hands, that I still possess.

Imagine, if you will – and we ought to – an American president who would write or speak, or believe, such things today. Lincoln was reviled then, and often now, as an “agnostic, deist, infidel.” But by their fruits ye shall know them.

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A country-flavored version of a favorite hymn – well, Lincoln WAS from Kentucky – but with a true story of the President’s exercise of Christ-like compassion:

Click: Abraham Lincoln – What a Friend We Have in Jesus

2-12-24

It seems lately that I have a disproportionate number of friends (Don’t stop there! Keep reading…) a lot of friends who are going through tough times. Hard times, financially; various personal crises; health challenges. It is everyone’s lot to endure such things, and maybe I am just more aware of conditions – not that I am immune, either. Believe me.

The Bible, for all of its wonderful promises, tells us – assures us; warns us; almost promises us – that tribulation will come. “The rain falls on the just and the unjust.” In fact, in the short run and the long run, the righteous shall experience persecution and tribulation.

Nevertheless it is proper to ask relief from such things in life. Of course. And we learn from suffering. God never sends sickness or disease, but there is sin and corruption in this world. In general and in particular, we bring many things upon ourselves. As we overcome, God is glorified. “All things work for good to those who love God and are called according to His purposes.” It doesn’t mean all things are good; we must work to make things right. To turn the devil’s oppression back on him; to redeem aspects of those tough situations; to glorify God. By relying on Him, more than ourselves.

This is His plan. We must see this through our moments of torment and pressure. There is a mystery, therefore, in suffering. “Redemption draweth nigh.”

Don’t take my word for it. Nature itself, all around us, provides examples.

The beautiful, iridescent pearl, so rare and lovely and prized in jewelry and fashion, begins its life as an irritant – a speck of sand that worked its way into an oyster and attracts mineral coating. What began as an annoying invader ends as a precious thing of rare beauty.

Then there is that empty oyster shell itself, or other colorful or mother-of-pearl or iridescent shells like conch and abalone and cowrie and sunshine shells and volutes and miters and snail shells and varieties of scallop shells and complex, wondrous nautilus shells… all are, simply, empty husks of what they once were. They housed living mollusks, and are now dead skeletal remnants. Yet we prize them for their beauty, their new lives. What they became.

The greatest example of this principle, this view of new life, second chances, redemption, and benefiting from great pressure, is the diamond. Those rare and precious and beautiful gems all began their lives as chunks of coal. What plays some of the roles in their transformation? Time and… pressure.

It matters not at all whether we bring problems and crises and pressure upon ourselves, or not. Tough times are tough times. It is not having been in the Dark House, but having left it, that counts, a wise man once said. God has told us to be more than “overcomers.”

Listen. I surely am aware of the cautions, and the implications, in the story of Winston Churchill during the London blitz. Probably apocryphal, but as the bombs were falling on the burning city, an aide supposedly said: “This might be a blessing in disguise.” Churchill’s legendary response: “Some blessing. Some disguise.” A reaffirmation: we are to look beyond circumstances, past our tough times.

We can be “more than conquerors.” Billy Joe Shaver put it in a song – “I’m just an old chunk of coal… but I’m gonna be a diamond some day!”

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Click: I’m Just an Old Chunk of Coal

2-5-24

I was pulled over on the Interstate recently, according to the officer, for “going 75 in a 55 zone.” My defense was futile but worth a try: “Isn’t 75 the new 55?” Actually this is a parable; it didn’t happen.

Technically, it is a fib, not a parable, but at my age that’s the best I can do. Speaking of age, I have just passed that “milestone,” the three-quarters of a century mark. For those of you not blessed enough to have gone down life’s pathway that far, I can share that I almost had, not a Senior Moment, but a Typo Moment. That is, some milestones seem like millstones.

Actually, that is another fib. I move a little slower, and my joints, when they move or bend at all, sometimes creak and moan. Oh, I forget things occasionally, but I always have; don’t we all? Maybe it’s been more frequent lately. I asked my doctor if I should be concerned and I related three instances. “How long has this been going on?” he asked. “How long has what been going on?” I responded.

We all have moments in the supermarket when we forget why we drove there (Right? Don’t we? Please say Yes!) but I have to admit it is worrying when I find myself in the bathroom and forget why I’m there.

But God has blessed me with reasonably good health. As for my “mind,” I might have just exploded, here, any claims to clarity and sanity. But I am as busy as I ever have been in the fields the Lord has assigned: writing, reading, drawing and painting, researching. The coincidence of having just published my 75^th book in, now, my 75^th year is a convenient coincidence: When I forget one number, I simply recall the other.

The apocryphal “Chinese Curse” – “May you live in interesting times” – has always seemed like a blessing to me. My curiosity and numerous interests have made me a polymath (as well as a pauper) but I continue to discover old things that are refreshingly new, and I turn new things into old friends, as a reader and collector. God has led me to accomplish a few things; I am proud of my children; I have met many of my heroes and even encountered colorful scoundrels along the way. Travel, jobs, hobbies – a rich mosaic.

I have learned that repeated readings of God’s Word, and ever more intimate praying, make my relationship with the Savior more alive, not old and tired. He created the universe, yet He cares for me, enough to sacrifice His life. I have grievously sinned in uncountable ways, yet I have repented and asked forgiveness, and He has forgiven me. In the words of the Gospel song – it is all richer, deeper, fuller, sweeter as the days go by.

And the days do go by.

My old friend, the late cartoonist Dik Browne (Hagar the Horrible) and I had a mutual friend about whom Dik would quietly say, “That boy hears voices.” It was an old-fashioned and polite way to say that the fellow was a little odd at times. Delusional folks can claim inspiration from phantoms, but it can be otherwise. Joan of Arc heard voices, or claimed to; and people held her in reverence.

My late wife Nancy, in our moments of grief when we lost our first child, heard God’s voice, seemingly audible: “You will have multiple healthy children.” A peace came over her and, despite her fragile health, we subsequently had three healthy children. The voice, and that peace, were as much miracles as the healthy births.

One last story (I can hear “hoorays,” almost audible) – a parable, finally, along these lines.

A guy heard a voice he believed to be from the Lord: “You are going to live a long, long life!” The fellow was so convinced it was from Heaven that he went into overdrive, preparing to live it up. Or long-live it up. He got a new wardrobe of slick duds to impress the chicks; he got a tummy tuck; a dentist gave him capped teeth; a doctor gave him a facelift; he colored the hair that was his own, and some miracle-worker gave him hair plugs. Then when he was slick enough to hit the town, he got behind the wheel of his expensive new sports car, and…

… he was killed when a big dump truck ran into him. Up in Heaven, he looked for God and asked, “Lord, you said I would live a long life…”

He received this answer: “Frankly, I didn’t recognize you anymore!” The guy had remembered the promise, but forgotten the Promise-Maker. God forbid that any of us let that happen in our lives.

Life must be about quality, not quantity… or length. All the learning I have accumulated in my 75 years, and all the exciting things I still yearn to discover have, in the end, not fogged my vision. I have learned a lot – book-lessons and life-lessons – but when it comes to God Almighty, who created me and even knows the number of hairs on my head, He knows “what is needful and best” for me, and that is fine. It is good to know God’s Ways; I don’t need to know His Whys.

What fills in the (many) gaps when our understanding is faulty? God provides… Jesus teaches… and the Holy Spirit gifts us… with Faith. Walking with my Savior is like a 24/7 birthday party. Only better. In fact richer, deeper, fuller, sweeter. Life with Jesus is like a long, long party. How’s that for a parable?
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Click: Sweeter As The Days Go By