Bill Dogterom
Friday, October 28, 2005
Chaos
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.
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.
Thursday, October 20, 2005
Weather!!
In Calgary, where I grew up, the weather was something to talk about. Great towering thunder clouds dueling it out with swords of lightning, blizzards that disappeared the neighborhood, rain that came in sideways, bone numbing cold giving way before a warm Chinook wind . . . There were days when the weather report – forecasting was a waste of time – would give the highlights happening in different parts of the city. Such were the joys of living in a city on the edge of the prairies at the base of foothills building to the Canadian Rockies. The old joke was, “If you don’t like the weather, wait a minute.”
In Southern California, where I live now, we talk about the weather only when we are stuck for something past, “Hi.” And it is, for the most part, nothing to talk about. But every once in a while, we get weather! Such was the case this week. It was the reason the word “awesome” was invented! Such a glorious display of lightening and soul shaking thunder giving way to torrents of rain leading to a spectacular moonset - the full brightness sliding down the dark velvet western sky before gradually disappearing behind whispy clouds softening the horizon. It is enough to jump start a day into praise.
It would be enough to witness wonder. But to think, we have been invited to participate in glory! There is something about noticing that adds a second chorus to the song. The heavens do not need witnesses to declare His majesty. They will do what they were created to do, their obedience to their nature being part of the song they sing. The rocks cry out regardless of the lack of critical acclaim to their song of praise. Their song is not improved by our applause. But our applause becomes part of the reverberation of their song – often breaking off to be become a completely other song of praise. We join and extend, becoming participants in glory.
That is part of what it means to be human – to be created to be the Image of God. We can become reflectors and containers and partners and co-creators of glory! We can celebrate the songs of silence and stunning sound – we can dance to the rhythms of a universe vibrating with the overwhelmingness of its creator – we can shout joyfully with the unbridled enthusiasm of a sky electric with glory. And, we can sing the song of the redeemed, knowing what the creation can only sense - that the best is yet to come. The new joke is, “If you love the weather, just wait!”
In Southern California, where I live now, we talk about the weather only when we are stuck for something past, “Hi.” And it is, for the most part, nothing to talk about. But every once in a while, we get weather! Such was the case this week. It was the reason the word “awesome” was invented! Such a glorious display of lightening and soul shaking thunder giving way to torrents of rain leading to a spectacular moonset - the full brightness sliding down the dark velvet western sky before gradually disappearing behind whispy clouds softening the horizon. It is enough to jump start a day into praise.
It would be enough to witness wonder. But to think, we have been invited to participate in glory! There is something about noticing that adds a second chorus to the song. The heavens do not need witnesses to declare His majesty. They will do what they were created to do, their obedience to their nature being part of the song they sing. The rocks cry out regardless of the lack of critical acclaim to their song of praise. Their song is not improved by our applause. But our applause becomes part of the reverberation of their song – often breaking off to be become a completely other song of praise. We join and extend, becoming participants in glory.
That is part of what it means to be human – to be created to be the Image of God. We can become reflectors and containers and partners and co-creators of glory! We can celebrate the songs of silence and stunning sound – we can dance to the rhythms of a universe vibrating with the overwhelmingness of its creator – we can shout joyfully with the unbridled enthusiasm of a sky electric with glory. And, we can sing the song of the redeemed, knowing what the creation can only sense - that the best is yet to come. The new joke is, “If you love the weather, just wait!”
Thursday, October 13, 2005
Compassion Overload
Hurricane Katrina devastates the Gulf Coast States – Hurricane Rita takes out parts of Texas – Tropical Storm Glen floods major parts of El Salvador – massive rain storms result in widespread flooding in the northeast – an Earthquake in Pakistan wipes out whole communities, resulting in upwards of 30,000 dead . . . The news of the past month has been an unrelenting horror. The fax machine spits out page after page asking for help. We wonder, is it possible to care anymore? Are we in compassion burn-out?
Jesus is clear – there will always be those for whom we can care, to whom we can give. The trick for us is to discern what kind of response is appropriate. With that in mind, here are a few things to think about.
The first response ought always be to pray. That might sound “wimpy” – but that is only because we don’t understand the nature and power of prayer. When we pray, we position ourselves in a strategic partnership with One for whom resource is not limited. Furthermore, in prayer, we signal our willingness to cooperate with Him, putting our resources at His disposal. It is important to remember that everything we have in our hands is His. We signal this fact by our tithe – not to tithe is to buy into the lie that what we “have” is ours by right rather than by gift. When we tithe, we let the kingdoms of this world know that we are glad recipients of God’s gracious provision to us – and that our “stuff” is in His hands to use as He wishes.
The second level of response arises out of our prayer – we begin to discern how to respond with what God has placed in our hands. We have understood the principle that faithfulness is required of those to whom much has been entrusted. When we look at what we have, it may not look like much – but that is not ours to judge. We don’t even know what “much” is! We ask the Father how He wishes to allocate the resources that we are holding in His name.
Thirdly, we become informed – and follow our hearts. As we listen to the news with a prayerful heart, sooner or later, some need will trigger a response. If nothing does, or everything does, we need to pray at a deeper level to be appropriately moved with compassion. And then, based on the draw of the Spirit, we act as best we can with what is in our hands. We may give sacrificially or safely in response to the instruction of the Father. He will never ask us to give what we do not have. But . . . starting with prayer we can learn to hear what He is asking of us.
Jesus is clear – there will always be those for whom we can care, to whom we can give. The trick for us is to discern what kind of response is appropriate. With that in mind, here are a few things to think about.
The first response ought always be to pray. That might sound “wimpy” – but that is only because we don’t understand the nature and power of prayer. When we pray, we position ourselves in a strategic partnership with One for whom resource is not limited. Furthermore, in prayer, we signal our willingness to cooperate with Him, putting our resources at His disposal. It is important to remember that everything we have in our hands is His. We signal this fact by our tithe – not to tithe is to buy into the lie that what we “have” is ours by right rather than by gift. When we tithe, we let the kingdoms of this world know that we are glad recipients of God’s gracious provision to us – and that our “stuff” is in His hands to use as He wishes.
The second level of response arises out of our prayer – we begin to discern how to respond with what God has placed in our hands. We have understood the principle that faithfulness is required of those to whom much has been entrusted. When we look at what we have, it may not look like much – but that is not ours to judge. We don’t even know what “much” is! We ask the Father how He wishes to allocate the resources that we are holding in His name.
Thirdly, we become informed – and follow our hearts. As we listen to the news with a prayerful heart, sooner or later, some need will trigger a response. If nothing does, or everything does, we need to pray at a deeper level to be appropriately moved with compassion. And then, based on the draw of the Spirit, we act as best we can with what is in our hands. We may give sacrificially or safely in response to the instruction of the Father. He will never ask us to give what we do not have. But . . . starting with prayer we can learn to hear what He is asking of us.
Thursday, October 06, 2005
The Rhythms of Silence
How deeply stirs the stillness
filled with the silence of great love
rich with the melodies of silent songs
overflowing with glories unspoken
and unspeakable
Oh Lord
I can’t hear you.
Be still
silent
and know
Surface froth of bursting bubbles
crashing waves of noise after noise after noise
random riffs of chaos passing for rhythm
saying everything that needs to be said and
so much more more more
Such courage is needed
to abandon my own frantic meaningless
noise in favor of . . .
what feels like nothing
but is as far from nothing as is possible
Oh Lord
Speak in a voice more
familiar
Be still
silent
know
there is no voice
more familiar
than shared silence
Oh Lord
tune my heart
to silence
to the
rhythms of your
stillness.
filled with the silence of great love
rich with the melodies of silent songs
overflowing with glories unspoken
and unspeakable
Oh Lord
I can’t hear you.
Be still
silent
and know
Surface froth of bursting bubbles
crashing waves of noise after noise after noise
random riffs of chaos passing for rhythm
saying everything that needs to be said and
so much more more more
Such courage is needed
to abandon my own frantic meaningless
noise in favor of . . .
what feels like nothing
but is as far from nothing as is possible
Oh Lord
Speak in a voice more
familiar
Be still
silent
know
there is no voice
more familiar
than shared silence
Oh Lord
tune my heart
to silence
to the
rhythms of your
stillness.
Sunday, October 02, 2005
Fall
Well, its official. Autumn has arrived. My furnace came on last night – the sure sign of the death of summer. Sure, the days still soar into the mid-80’s and the leaves still seem as green as ever they did. But once the furnace has come on, its just a matter of time. Some parts of the country have already had their first frost – but I don’t live there. For me, this is the time of year when the lawn has just begun to recover its density and color having survived the last blast of summer’s heat. When I was a kid, this was the time of year when my dad armed us with rakes and sent us out to pull the dead grass into piles, preparing for the onset of winter. But I don’t live there either – at least not anymore.
Autumn in Southern California marks a return to clearer skies, sharp silhouettes of the near hills, and a certain crispness in the air that makes you glad to be alive and living here. These are the days of distraction. So much is happening in the rest of the world – the rest of the country – that demands attention and response. But the sunset’s stunning beauty makes us mindless. It is hard to remember in the light of such startling wonder. Time will come for fires, rains, leaf stripping winds – but today, now, attention must be paid. Not to notice would be a crime against glory.
It is the nature of life – the nature of nature – that one day follows another, that one season follows another. The task before us each day is to live that day. If that day contains sorrow and death, we must mourn. That is what is called for. To do other would be a violation of time. But when the day – or the moment in the day – has within it the reminders of life and vitality and hope, we must dance. That is what is called for. To do other would be a violation of time. And so, on crisp, sunny, glorious fall days, we give ourselves permission to stretch up to our full height, out of the night-cold shadows into the sunny warmth of the new morning.
God, it seems, knows that we can not long endure unending sorrow. And so, into each season of loss is sprinkled reminders of joy. When we come across them, as we will if we allow ourselves to notice, we must give them their due. We must pause. We must applaud. We must live in the moment of sun through the rain. We must join in the untimely burst of laughter. We must sit – stand – sing – dance in the sunlight of love expressed in this moment.
Sufficient unto the day is the beauty thereof.
Autumn in Southern California marks a return to clearer skies, sharp silhouettes of the near hills, and a certain crispness in the air that makes you glad to be alive and living here. These are the days of distraction. So much is happening in the rest of the world – the rest of the country – that demands attention and response. But the sunset’s stunning beauty makes us mindless. It is hard to remember in the light of such startling wonder. Time will come for fires, rains, leaf stripping winds – but today, now, attention must be paid. Not to notice would be a crime against glory.
It is the nature of life – the nature of nature – that one day follows another, that one season follows another. The task before us each day is to live that day. If that day contains sorrow and death, we must mourn. That is what is called for. To do other would be a violation of time. But when the day – or the moment in the day – has within it the reminders of life and vitality and hope, we must dance. That is what is called for. To do other would be a violation of time. And so, on crisp, sunny, glorious fall days, we give ourselves permission to stretch up to our full height, out of the night-cold shadows into the sunny warmth of the new morning.
God, it seems, knows that we can not long endure unending sorrow. And so, into each season of loss is sprinkled reminders of joy. When we come across them, as we will if we allow ourselves to notice, we must give them their due. We must pause. We must applaud. We must live in the moment of sun through the rain. We must join in the untimely burst of laughter. We must sit – stand – sing – dance in the sunlight of love expressed in this moment.
Sufficient unto the day is the beauty thereof.
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