Bill Dogterom

Dreams Too Tiny

small
brown
shriveled
looking nothing
like life

no dreams
great enough
to move from
what is to
what will be

tiny dreams
appropriate
to death
appropriate
to appearance

but apparently
appearance
deceives

that seed
of death
falling
grounded
dying

gives birth
to life

and of such
a wild kind
as to be
unrecognizable
beginning as
it did
small
brown
shriveled

to see
what grows
from what is sown
demands dreams
not too tiny

Look!

The hard waiting
the deep trusting
of soil
of seed
of sun
of rain

So many things
make sowing
risky beyond
measure

The only certainty
is the seed
in your hand

Once sown
terror takes
center stage
what if . . .
too much . . .
not enough . . .
and then . . .

Even when green
shows gently
worry doesn’t
end – the cycle
of anxiety begins
again

Study to wait
watch to gauge
exactly the right
moment between
enough sun
and approaching
night when no man
can work

And then He says,
Look!!!
No waiting
step right up
harvest time
Now!

Winter
Spring, rapidly approaching, is a reminder of life renewed. Green buds appear overnight on trees looking, for all intents and purposes, dead. The harbingers stick their heads bravely up into the still cold morning air and defy the winter chill to hold back the spring. Daffodils and irises trumpet the glory to come with a flash and dash of their own. Tulips and hyacinths add to the riotous beauty that shouts the soon arrival of life after death.
It does not take too many days of cold weather to begin to count the days until warmth returns. We have been trained to comfort’s sliding scale. What, in another time and place, would have been greeted with shirt-sleeved walks around the park, is now reason enough to put another log on the fire and hunker down against the hostile elements! And then, one quick day, the sun shine calls us out of darkness into glorious light! We can hardly wait. In fact, we have been trained to hardly wait. Waiting is as good as death to us. To wait is to let things be – to enter into the mystery of what we can not control.
Lent is a season of embraced waiting – of choosing to be still and know the certainty of needed dying; of not rushing to light so quickly that we miss the treasures in the dark – and the light; of not longing so much for new life, resurrection life, that we miss the moments on the way, the stations on the side of the road that call for a certain, stillness in order to reflect, in order to enter in fully.
We do this in hope that once again life will triumph over death. Not the hope of our culture that is a weak wish, but the substantial hope that stands with certainty on the bedrock of faith. Only those who have been trained to life can deal comfortably and unhurriedly with death. Those living uncertainly find death a constant threat and so hurry over every reminder, like a boy racing over a frozen pond thinking that speed will keep him above water.
The leisurely stroll that is lent takes its toll on the false life, on the parasitic life, on the plastic life, that is no life at all. Such lifes can not stand slow. It finds them out sooner rather than later. Silk flowers in winter gardens fool only those driving by – not those whose pace slows to a walk.

First Sunday in Lent
Today is the first Sunday in Lent. As of last Wednesday, we are in the season of the church calendar which seeks to focus our attention on the necessary dying that prepares us for full entry into the new life of Resurrection on Easter Sunday. Lent is a time of allowing the Holy Spirit to gently search our hearts and expose the ways in us that are the ways of death – even those things that look like life but which bar the way to new life. It is a season of counting the cost – of both life and death.
We spend time considering the cost of discipleship, and so we should. Jesus is clear. In order to follow Him, we have to give up our lives. What is not so clear is that there is a cost to non-discipleship. It may not appear as great a cost at present, but it is important to consider what happens when you choose not to follow Jesus, not to give up your life. Lent gives time to consider such things.
Lent is journey of pruning, as well. Jesus makes it clear that the Father desires specific fruitfulness from his disciples, and will prune them towards that result. What that means is that He will identify and cut off fruit bearing branches so that other branches can be more fruitful. It is always a painful process to see what is fruitful fall. But we are not in charge of pruning!
For many, fasting is part of the Lenten journey. To fast is to voluntarily abstain from something that is otherwise permissible, and even necessary, as a way to focus our hearts and minds on the Lord. Fasting usually involves food with a twenty-four hour fast being common – choosing not to eat any solid food, restricting intake to water or fruit juices for at least two meal times. There is nothing that shakes up the false security of our comfortable spirituality more quickly than does fasting. For those unable to participate in a full fast, variations may include giving up something that one may have become dependent on or have an inordinate affection for – TV or other forms of media, chocolate, or caffeinated drinks, for example. The point is not about changing behavior as much as it is reminding our selves of what is important – and shaking up our dependencies on things that aren’t.

Wise Men?
How wise do you have to be to . . . follow a star?
We have revered them for their foresight – for their insight – for their night sight. They have reached the apex of modern religious culture having been adored by bumper sticker – “Wise Men Still Seek Him.” But how would we respond to such wisdom?
“You’re going where? To seek whom? Based on what?”
We get all excited when they arrive – but I suspect we would have joined the chorus of nay-sayers when they departed. Their astrological observations would not likely have carried much weight when put in the balance against a journey lasting the better part of two years, stretching half-way around the world, heading to an unknown land. And for what? A king born to the Jews? Why did that matter to them in the first place?
There is no good answer provided by the text. Matthew simply records that, upon arrival, they made their way to the most logical place possible – the capital city. They must have looked like fools – dressed in the clothes of a foreign culture, wandering around Jerusalem asking “Where is he who has been born King of the Jews?” That must have gotten them a strange glance or two. It certainly showed up as a big blip on Herod’s radar screen. He who was the king knew of no king being born in his household! In a massive understatement Matthew records, “he was troubled.”
Herod’s respect for astrology was such that he sought to make the travelers his allies – and spies. To no avail. Still, not taking any chances, and after having done the math, he ordered all male children under the age of two and in the areas around Bethlehem to be slain.
The visitors from the east discovered that the star was a present help in guiding them to where the toddler and his family were living. Their arrival in Bethlehem must have caused a bit of a stir as well! Gossip in the village filled in the blanks – gold, frankinsence and myrhh – exotic spices, rich gifts. What did they know about the workman’s son that no one else did? And who can we ask now that the boy and his family appear to have vanished in the night?
Wisdom is known by its actions. These are known as wise men because they did was wisdom does, they worshiped God. What anyone else thought did not matter. Not then. Not now.

Yesterday she had a fiancé who could hardly believe his good fortune that their families had been able to arrange their union. He looked at her with shining eyes and a sense of pride that comes from love supported by honor.

Yesterday she looked forward to her wedding day – the happiest day of her young life – capping a week long celebration with family and friends.

Yesterday she had a reputation that was beyond question. Her family held her in high esteem – and carried no shame because of her.

Yesterday, her tomorrows looked bright!

Yesterday, she was a single, betrothed, virgin – the pride and joy of her family, the love of Joseph’s life . . .

Today, she is a single, pregnant, virgin – betrothal in question. How can this be? Indeed. How? Indeed . . . can it be true at all? As real as it seemed, could it have been a dream? A nightmare? She would have to wait . . . and the truth would be born. Or not.

Today, everything she once believed, everything she once hoped for her tomorrows was lost in yesterday’s dark mists. Her life was not altered – not changed. It was ended. A new life had begun – much less secure, much less joy-full, much less bright. Much less . . .

Escaping the glares and stares of tomorrow she headed for the hills, seeking refuge in the safe home of her aunt and uncle who themselves knew something of angels and untimely births.

Nearing the familiar home her greeting rang out. She was startled to see Elizabeth come rushing out the door. having told no one her news, she was astonished to hear the loud response to her greeting, “Blessed are you! Blessed is the child you bear! Blessed am I that the mother of my Lord should visit me!”

“How did you know?”

Elizabeth, laughing, pointed to her still leaping, still yet to be born, son. “He is already preparing the way! He is already bearing witness! He is already leaping for joy!”

It was all true! And in ways that she could never have known. There was nothing for it but for Mary to settle into this new tomorrow – and rejoice! And so, she did!

He was honored
a once in a lifetime moment
to stand before the Lord
bringing the sacrifice

He had carried into that
holy place his own
longings – unspoken to any
but Elizabeth – who shared
them at a deeper level than
even he.

His service was interrupted
by great good news
His prayers were answered!
His longing fulfilled!
His dream come true!

Perhaps long longing made
it impossible to receive
without the incredulous
questioning of an
imperious angel – who
brought something a little
extra. Silence. A long silence.

He could not speak his joy
because he had not spoken
his gratitude.

Joy muted is still joy
but it is not the same

Joy is meant to be shared
sung – laughed – wept

His was kept silent.

He was unable to enter fully
into his joy
His joy

kept out by
silence when
thanksgiving
provided entrance.

Children have to be taught thanksgiving. There are probably some kids who are born grateful but, in my experience, not many. Thanks saying is the first step to learning thanksgiving. It may be an expression behind which there is no real feeling, but you have to start somewhere. And the somewhere at which we start is to acknowledge having received something from someone. That acknowledgement is signaled by a verbal – or otherwise communicated – “thank you.” It would be nice if there was a certain gladness behind the words, but sometimes, in training, you have to go with what you get!

It would be sad, however, if we stopped in our training at just saying the right words. Some attempt must be made to train our children, and ourselves, in gratitude – a genuine and heartfelt appreciation for the gift received. This is a bit more difficult – how do you train a “feeling”?

We can begin to ask God for an understanding of what we have been given – for eyes to see the nature of the world as it would be without gift, without generosity. It is easy for us to assume that we deserve what good comes to us. One of the strategies for moving to gratitude from the heart is to seriously consider, before the Lord, what we are actually entitled to. It would be, I think, a rather short list!

Another step would be to sit for a moment with what we have. So much of life passes by without reflection – we don’t notice what is immediately at hand – we take it for granted. To stop long enough and begin to develop a “Thank List” could help to push us deep enough into our own “gracedness” that we will find gratitude growing.

It will always be helpful to spend some time with truly thankful people. We will take on the characteristics of those with whom we spend time. We can learn gratitude from people who are grateful. It tends to be contagious – we learn to see in new ways. Life itself becomes a gift for which the only response is thanksgiving – from a grateful heart.

When it comes to giving thanks, the behavior can be helpful in training the heart. It is a spiritual discipline – a chosen and right action, which over time, trains us so that we are able to be what we can’t yet naturally be, grateful. The point is, we can train ourselves to give thanks with the hope that we will, one day, be grateful. But, in the meantime, saying thanks is not a bad place to start.

There is enough strength, joy, and grace for each day. No more, no less. Adequacy is God’s chosen pattern.

We demand, and want to define, abundance. God’s response is, “Enough.”

We hear the promise of abundant life – and think “more.” Jesus, who makes the promise, means “other.”

We are greedy for life – reaching, grasping. And in doing so, have nothing.

God is seeking to give us our lives – and does so every day – but our hands are so full with what we grab that we can not receive the life He gives.

Striving to save our lives, to find our lives, we lose our lives. Our constant quest for more leaves us with none. The very little we have is wasted away in the effort and anxiety.

Meanwhile God stands, hands and heart full, ready and willing to give what we most long for. But we have no capacity, so full are we with taking.

We hear – and believe – that nothing will happen to us that we can not handle. But that is not true. We are not built to handle our own lives by ourselves. All kinds of things will happen to us that we can not handle – except with God’s help. It is His way of reminding us that we are built for grander things. But first, we have to receive our own lives.

And so . . . seeking our own lives, we begin with release, with letting go, with surrender. The ancient and still helpful word is relinquishment.

Even in release we begin to give thanks – for the gift of each day, for the events and people of each day, for the promised and real presence of God with us in each day, for the resources of time, talent, energy adequate for each day, for the gentle editing taking place as some fruit is cut off to allow for greater fruitfulness . . . day by day by day.

Then we begin to chose the rhythms of grace that will sustain adequacy. As we do, we will discover that enough is enough. And that is all that is really needed. Thanks be to God.

Swirling twisting writhing
bands of nothing
and everything

A seething sea of sand
threatening to suck to
oblivion any who dare
venture close

Caught in the maelstrom
light and dark
flashes of familiar overcome
by strange and frightening
dimensions expand and contract
up and down in and out
no longer helpful
directions

chaos has no markers

And there
in what might be
center
or not
a table
spread
a cup
full to
overflow
a host
who bids
“Come and dine.”

All around the
chaos swirls
But in the
with Him
calm

Suddenly it clears
for just a moment

and even the
chaos is found
to be part of
In Him
Life.