What do I believe?

(because how I live depends on what I believe)

The Nicene Creed

I believe in one God, the Father Almighty, Maker of Heaven and Earth, and of all things visible  and invisible.
 
       And in one Lord Jesus Christ, the only-begotten Son of God, begotten of the Father before all ages; God of God,  Light of Light, very God of very God; begotten, not made, being of one substance with the Father; by whom all things were made.
 
       Who, for us all for our salvation, came down from Heaven, and was incarnate by the Holy Spirit of the virgin Mary, and was made man; and was crucified also for us under Pontius Pilate; He suffered and was buried; and the third day He rose again, according to the Scriptures; and ascended into Heaven, and sits at the right hand of the Father; and He shall come again, with glory, to judge the living and the dead; whose kingdom shall have no end.
 
       And I believe in the Holy Spirit, the Lord and Giver of Life; who proceeds from the Father;  
who with the Father and the Son together is worshipped and glorified; who spoke by the prophets. 

     And I believe in one holy universal and apostolic Church.   I acknowledge one baptism for the remission of sins; and I look for the resurrection of the dead, and the life of the world to come.              

Amen.

(if you'd rather hear it sung, click below)

Rich Mullins' video of "Creed" from the album Songs

Now

On Good Friday I heard it.  The monster growl began some distance away and grew louder slowly, slowly. The huge tractors were on the roads, heading for nearby fields to break up spring soil, still in groggy winter slumber, and prepare it for the seeding and fertilizing to follow.

The weight of the machines and the sponginess of the soil around here make wet spring weather difficult for farming.  Conditions have to be just right in order to get started in the process of creating this year's crop for a timely harvest.  The Amish have more freedom with horses and wagons than the English with pneumatic tires and gasoline engines.  It is not uncommon to see big work horses in the field, pulling machinery to work the soil much earlier than our English tractors.  So much for the advantages of modern technology!

A farmer is on the timetable of the sun and rain, not necessarily the religious calendar.   If the field needs to be worked, and he conditions are right on Good Friday, if he is a spiritual soul, he communes with God in the field.

That is a lesson I must learn, to commune with God where I am in this moment.  I really have no other.  I was struck during a sermon on Hebrews 11:1 many years ago.  A friend in the ministry, a man known for Old Testament prophet-like faith and understanding of the nature of God, spoke these words out of the strength of many years of struggle and communion with his heavenly Father.  They continue to reverberate in my heart:

"Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen." NIV

Now faith is the substance.  Now faith is.  Now faith.

Now.

There are slumbering winter fields in my heart, Lord, that need preparation for summer fruitfulness.  Roots of foolishness run deep within.  Make your furrows deeper, amend the soil.  May my heart yield a field rich in the fruit of Your Spirit.

May I learn how to enter into Your presence in my present.

Now.


"For the Present is where time touches eternity."  CS Lewis.

He is Risen!!!

La Pieta

Written Easter of 1969 by Jeremiah Denton, while a prisoner of war in Viet Nam

The soldiers stare, then drift away,
Young John finds nothing to say,
The veil is rent; the deed is done;
And Mary holds her only son.

His limbs grow stiff, the night grows cold,
But naught can lose that mother’s hold,
Her gentle, anguished eyes seem blind,

Who knows what thoughts run through her mind?

Perhaps she thinks of last week’s palms,
With cheering thousands off’ring alms
Or dreams of Cana on the day
She nagged him till she got her way.

Her face shows grief but not despair,
Her head though bowed has faith to spare,
For even now she could suppose
His thorns might somehow yield a rose.

Her life with Him was full of signs
That God writes straight with crooked lines.
Dark clouds can hide the rising sun,
And all seem lost, when all be won! 

I know my Redeemer lives.  He is risen, indeed!

A Thin Place

My Dear Professor and I just returned from a few days at our favorite place in this world next to Texas -- a nearby Catholic retreat center. It is a place of beauty, quiet, prayer, and calm set in the midst of a sixty plus acre wood. Truly a thin place, where the division between this world and the next is almost transparent.

I discovered that on our first retreat here 8 years ago. My dear husband had planned it, and he was divinely guided in the timing. I was an emotional wreck, physically and spiritually exhausted, and reeling from an unexpected betrayal. I could feel myself slipping into the bottomless black hole of depression on our drive down. The betrayal had shaken me to the core, and everything was up for grabs -- who God was, how He interacted with me and I with Him. All was on the table. We had never retreated before, so we weren't sure what to expect. I went to bed, managing to trust that God would wake me up if He had a better idea. Somehow, in the midst of the shambles of my life and emotions, I had enough trust to think God was still good.

This particular center celebrates the Liturgy of the Hours, a Catholic tradition of setting aside seven times within a day's span to recite parts of the Psalms, read a passage from the Old or New Testament, and read short prayers according to the calendar of the church year. (This all takes place within a matter of 15 minutes.) It was the bell signaling call to prayer that awakened me, and the times of prayer that gave me structure when I had none. Mysteriously, the particular Psalm readings for those first days spoke directly to my wounded heart and, combined with the beauty and serenity of the building, began my healing. I shed many a tear on my dear husband's shoulder and cried out many a question to my heavenly Father before those three days were ended. The healing was not complete when we left, but I had the strength to take baby steps, and with the love of my husband and my Savior began a road to recovery.

In the intervening years, we have attempted to come back at least twice a year, and each time if only for a brief moment, the veil seems to part. This time I found a deeper meaning in the events we celebrate at Easter time. I was studying in the library loft and overheard a priest leading a catechism class. Afterward, I asked for his text. It was an anonymous sermon from the early church on supposed events surrounding the resurrection of Christ, and for me, an evangelical protestant, serves as a wonderful meditation on the depth of what Christ accomplished on the cross.

"A MEDITATION FOR HOLY SATURDAY

Something strange is happening - there is a great silence on earth today, a great silence and stillness. The whole earth keeps silence because the King is asleep. The earth trembled and is still because God has fallen asleep in the flesh and He has raised up all who have slept ever since the world began. God has died in the flesh and hell trembles with fear.

He has gone to search for our first parent, as for a lost sheep. Greatly desiring to visit those who live in darkness and in the shadow of death, He has gone to free from sorrow the captives Adam and Eve, He who is both God and the son of Eve. The Lord approached them bearing the cross, the weapon that had won Him the victory. At the sight of Him, Adam, the first man He had created, struck his breast in terror and cried out to everyone: 'My Lord be with you all'. Christ answered him: 'And with your spirit'. He took him by the hand and raised him up, saying: 'Awake, O sleeper, and rise from the dead, and Christ will give you light'.

'I am your God, who for your sake have become your son. Out of love for you and for your descendants I now by My own authority command all who are held in bondage to come forth, all who are in darkness to be enlightened, all who are sleeping to arise. I order you, O sleeper, to awake. I did not create you to be held a prisoner in hell. Rise from the dead, for I am the life of the dead. Rise up, work of my hands, you who were created in My image. Rise, let us leave this place, for you are in Me and I am in you; together we form only one person and we cannot be separated. For your sake I, your God, became your son; I, the Lord, took the form of a slave; I, whose home is above the heavens, descended to the earth and beneath the earth. For your sake, for the sake of man, I became like a man without help, free among the dead. For the sake of you, who left a garden, I was betrayed to the Jews in a garden, and I was crucified in a garden.

'See on My face the spittle I received in order to restore to you the life I once breathed into you. See there the marks of the blows I received in order to refashion your warped nature in My image. On My back see the marks of the scourging I endured to remove the burden of sin that weighs upon your back. See My hands, nailed firmly to a tree, for you who once wickedly stretched out your hand to a tree.

'I slept on the cross and a sword pierced My side for you who slept in paradise and brought forth Eve from your side. My side has healed the pain in yours. My sleep will rouse you from your sleep in hell. The sword that pierced Me has sheathed the sword that was turned against you.

'Rise, let us leave this place. The enemy led you out of the earthly paradise. I will not restore you to that paradise, but I will enthrone you in heaven. I forbade you the tree that was only a symbol of life, but see, I who am life itself am now one with you."

His Victory, Our Hope

"Who can stay awake in this night of God? Who will not be

as if paralyzed by it? Christ's struggle was with God.

This was his real agony. He overcame it through his

self-surrender. That was his victory, and our hope."

--Jurgen Moltmann

I watched "The Passion of the Christ" again last night. I see something new with every viewing. What struck me this time was the image of the procession to Golgotha. As Jesus stumbled under the load of the cross (and our sin), Simon of Cyrene was called out from the crowd of onlookers to give assistance. The screenwriters added to the story a piece of dialogue. Simon said to a struggling Jesus, "you are almost there."

Although that is a piece of fiction, I believe it has eternal weight. This weekend while on a prayer retreat I watched as our great Redeemer approached my dear husband in the midst of his own struggle with self surrender.

With the power that comes only from experience, Christ whispered, "You are almost there".

Christ's victory became our hope.