The Stand

Consider the aspen stand

Ablaze in autumn’s rays

Swaying,

A swooning chorus

In chilling winds

That would break a man

But bending;

Elasticity defying gravity.

While upon a rock

The forest stands

In the fleeting

Comfort of Northern Michigan sand,

A mighty army

--- steadfast, resolute

Yet issuing forth

From a single root---

A solitary vein running

Below, beneath,

Uniting, abiding,

Persevering as one

Emboldened by roots entwined.

If one should fall

--- a tragedy;

A masterpiece,

Yet the stand endures

As decades pass

For purpose breeds in simple things;

Far beyond time and tide;

A greater lord

Than function or form

Kindled by a common flame.

No single tree

Does a forest make.

Even death, that slow embrace;

That subtle entropy

Ensures a future harvest.

Perhaps the greatest victory

Is in becoming the soil

In which children grow.

That darkest shade

Between root and worm

Brings the highest canopy

With leaves aflame;

Tow’ring tall above mossy floor

Inspiring grace and truth and life.

Pt. 5 - New Constellations

In the days immediately after the city went dark there was a mixture of weeping and whimsy. The outage which appeared first as a suspicious novelty grew more insidious as the days and weeks crept on. At the onset though there was a general sense of comradery if not good will. Neighbors who had not spoken in years, if ever, met on porches and patios. Dogs were petted. Children played. It was as idyllic as could be expected with a forty percent vacancy rate.

The world aligned itself to the elements again. The midsummer sun kept the streets occupied with conversation late into the evening. Dusk brought its own merriment.

Still leaning against the brick exterior wall the ladder glinted dimly as here and there candlelight escaped from nearby windows. A thin, cold film of condensation was already forming on its weathered surface. The air was filled with the distant papery rustle of unseen cottonwoods while adolescent crickets tested out their legs. Night had come in cool, dispelling the memory of yet another sweaty day. Breezes unfelt from the ground brought a calming chill up on the roof where two figures lay.

“What’s that one?”

“The Big Dipper, come on dad.”

“Don’t come on me. I’m just making sure they’re actually doing something in school. Okay, what’s that one?”

“I don’t know.”

“That, my dear, is Fortinbras, noble god of the overweight.”

“Dad,” the girl of eleven said laughing as she elbowed her father who lay beside her, staring up at the sky. “Come on, tell the truth.”

“What? How do you know that is not the truth? You freely admitted you had no idea of what it was. And be careful, you almost knocked me off to my death.”

The girl giggled again and cuddled up closer to her father, nestling under his outstretched arm. Unconsciously he pulled her closer. They fell silent for a moment and gazed heavenward at the sky which seemed to have burst open, spilling ten million flakes of confetti into the stratosphere. With no light pollution to obscure them, the stars blazed with a glory even Declan hadn’t seen in years and only then on a trip to the Upper Peninsula. Now, the sky was a bowl of illumination stretching as far into endless darkness as they allowed their eyes to probe.

“And that,” he continued, pointing off to a southern region in the Milky Way, “is Scatalagorious, highly venerated by the Greeks as lord of bowel movements and soiled undergarments.” Tara chucked silently. He could feel here body twitch against his arm. “You can always find it because it’s just to the left of Uranus.” At this his daughter convulsed in laughter and he, unable to resist, laughed too. His mirth though sprung from some deeper well. He embraced it, letting the moment wash over him; breathing it in with each undignified snort. Then as riotous as it had begun, Tara’s laughter ceased. Just like the vast reaches of space, Declan knew the silence behind his daughter’s smile held burgeoning mysteries that he would never begin to understand.

Something ached within him.

In destitute quiet they lay watching the occasional landing lights of passing planes bound for more desirable shores. Here and there a wisp of cloud stole the moon. However never more than few moments passed before it reclaimed its luminous authority.

“How long do you think the power will be out?” Her question struck with such unexpected solemnity that Declan’s was briefly struck mute.

“Probably no longer than last time. A couple of days or so,” his voice spoke vapidly. “DTE says the storm knocked out power throughout the state. Some places will get it back sooner,” he paused, the words lingered, sticky in his throat, “some later.”

They lapsed into silence. Her arm entwined his. The shingles grated slightly against his shoulders and smelled sickly of petroleum.

“Good,” she said quickly, the vigor having returned to her voice. “we can play games and stuff. It’s kinda cool seeing everybody around and out.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“Maybe we could ride own to the park tomorrow? Maybe we could ride to the park. Dad?” The question broke him out of a labyrinth of distant, indistinct thoughts.

“Yeah. Maybe.”

Bent

Quick to accuse

Quick to blame

Quick to point to others’ shame

Blind in haste

Blind in pride

Blind to see through others’ eyes

Loud in protest

Loud in judgement

Loud but lacking in discernment

Slow to reason

Slow to seek

Slow in grace a word to speak

Apt to profit

Apt to violence

Apt to turn away in silence

Bent in action

Bent in mind

Bent where graciousness should reside

Conceived in sin

Conceived in hate

Conceived to hold the beggar’s plate

Born to ruin

But born anew

Born with humility to pursue

Peace has come to haggard host

Peace through Christ by grace received

Peace to quell the braggart’s boasts

Peace to cure the dark disease

In love we mirror precious grace

In love forbearance testifies

In love Christ’s purchase finds its face

In love His Spirit unifies.

Philippians 2:3,4

Complete my joy by being of the same mind, having the same love, being in full accord and of one mind. Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility count yourselves more significant than yourselves.

Philippians 2:2-3

In continuing his larger theme of unity within the church body, Paul turns his attention to the internal motivations that should guide our interactions. He sandwiches this command between the ultimate aim: unity in the church (2:1,2) and the means of accomplishing it: by imitating Christ (2:5). The eventual aim of the church is a diverse group of believers united in purpose and focus. As new groups of Christians were established either through relocation due to persecution or through the apostles’ missionary journeys, the emphasis became on unifying believers and living out life together in love. Nowhere was there present the concept of the solitary Christian. With that connectivity being assumed, the writers of the New Testament spent considerable ink on encouraging believers to live together unified by the love of Christ in selfless communities.

Here Paul exhorts the Philippians to have the same mind and the same love, for the Lord and for each other. The path to achieving this is to do nothing from selfishness or conceit. Paul’s speaks matter-of-factly but we know too well the difficulty that comes in trying to rid ourselves of selfish ambition.

We need no training in selfishness. We need no tutor in seeking ourselves first. Our bent towards self-preservation and self-fulfillment color nearly everything that we do and every decision that we make. As a product of our own inherited sin nature, it remains a shadowy presence even after we commit our lives to Christ. We can all recall times when our self-focused nature led us into ungodly decisions if not outright sin. Better yet, we can let those close to us testify about them. But while sin remains, it need not reign. We have been given the keys to victory over selfishness. First, though, we must learn to identify its rule in our lives.

While the outward signs of selfishness might seem obvious (prideful talk, boasting, lying, stinginess) we must probe deeper into our lives to root out the more insidious tendrils of conceit. Nearly everything in us and in our society (as an overflow of our collective hearts) bespeaks our self-focus. Our desire for entertainment (not necessarily a bad thing) often is prioritized over others. Consider even our need to advance the corporate ladder; the push to have every career change get us closer and closer to some personally fulfilling mountaintop. What does our need for such approval say about the state of our soul? The demands for self-gratification that gnaw always at the back of our minds show how far we have to go towards embracing a lifestyle of humility. Even our ubiquitous and notable economic system relies chiefly upon the conceit of self-advancement. Once we are able to see how deep the poison actually goes we realize how woefully far we are from the standard of righteousness.

In spite of how short we fall of this aim, Paul commands the Philippians to cast of conceit and selfish ambition and instead count others as more significant that themselves. In our day of ambition and self-actualization we balk at these words. ‘Surely he cannot mean considering others more significant than ourselves. He must mean as significant as we view ourselves.’ The problem is, of course, that we view ourselves as pretty significant. Even the parts of ourselves we don’t like are still given significance in that we spend a considerable amount of time obsessing over them. We are privy to all of the millions of thoughts that pop into our heads. We rest upon the billions of memories that inform our decisions. We are surrounded by ourselves 24 hours a day. Why should we consider ourselves most important? We don’t experience others the way we experience ourselves. Henry David Thoreau summed it up well when he wrote, “I should not talk so much about myself if there were anybody else whom I knew as well.”

Yet we are met with Paul’s words.

A key step in considering others as more significant than ourselves is when God allows us to understand that every single human is filled 24/7 with the same amount of thoughts, dreams, desires, and memories as we are. This realization alone should go far in combatting the temptation toward racism, sexism, political mudslinging, and irrational nationalism as we come to understand that everyone is as complex a universe of thoughts and motivations as we. It is harder to ignore the concerns, needs, and suffering of others when we consider that they are just as complex and unique as ourselves.

However, merely comprehending our equality as complex creations of God is not what Paul is exhorting. Instead, he commands that we consider others more significant that ourselves. This might seem impossible considering both the natural depth of understanding of ourselves and our sinful bent toward selfishness until he presents his example: the attitude of Jesus Christ.

By introducing the example of Christ and emphasizing, quite rightly, his humanity rather than His divinity. Paul presents a practical (though not easy) answer to the question of our selfishness. We turn to Christ and see a human, like us, who not only chose to suffer on the behalf of others though He had done no wrong, but also a man who could have accessed power to avoid such suffering but chose instead to endure it for our sake. The author of Hebrews adds in response to this that we should “consider him who endured from sinners such hostility against himself, so that you may not grow weary or fainthearted.” This would seem to be wise advice for us as well as we seek to consider others before ourselves.

As we progress through our day we are presented with dozens if not hundreds of people who are, quite obviously, not us. How will we interact with them? Will we treat them, at best, as ancillary figures in the drama of our life; as tools towards our own ends, or at worst, as antagonists? What does it look like to abandon our claim to self for the sake of another? How will we respond to the angry customer? The tedious coworker? Our spouse who is frustrated from a long day? Our children who intrude upon our personal time?

By forcing our eyes to Christ in these instances it is demanded that we acknowledge One who put our interests above His own and put the greater glory before His own suffering. If He was able to seek the glory of the Father not just through symbolic sacrifices but a very literal and painful torture and death, surely we can set aside our concerns momentarily and seek the good for our neighbor.

Without turning our thoughts to Jesus and His example, our predisposition towards self-interest will either result in remaining ignorant of others or manipulating them to our benefit. As we learn to consider the concerns of others we will begin (frustratingly slowly at times) to put their needs before our own. This will be painful in the beginning as our spoiled nature fights for ‘what we are owed’. In time, facilitated by frequent glances Christ-ward, we will begin to comprehend that while we chafe at being denied of what we desire, what we actually deserve is condemnation and judgement but that by the mercy of Christ we are saved and given a new life. This new life, which we have received by grace, is not our own to claim and thus we are enabled to give of it freely to others; to put their interests before our own and in doing so subjugating our fathomless self-interest.

To do so we must bring every thought and action to the foot of the cross, examining them with the Spirit and the word as our measures to ensure our motivations are aligned correctly with the Jesus we aspire to emulate. Practices such as the prayer of examen are designed toward this aim.

We must also be conscious of those around us on a daily basis and be dedicated to find out how we can best serve them. This mean going out of our way to actually ask them rather than basing our ‘knowledge’ on assumptions or hearsay.

Finally, we must stay conscious of the example of Christ in all of our interactions and fixing our eyes firmly on Jesus and his example for us. 

World's Worst Monday

“Good morning Sleeper, lift your head

Far too long have you spent in bed.

The Earth you knew before has past.

We arrive at Zyrgon at last!

Through the dark void of space you flew

Though deep you slept and never knew.

200 years in hypersleep

While vast computers whirled and beeped.

Oh, there’s one thing I should have said,

All your acquaintances are dead,

So long ago in nursing homes

While up above the stars you roamed.

Was that a tear? No time for that.

Your new life dawns in central Blatt

Which is, of course, on the north plain

Where suns shine and it never rains.

But have no fear of such extremes

Of sunset pools or gilded streams

In this cubicle you’ll reside

While braver fools will stray outside

Exploring the vast alien expanse

Where fortune calls and natives dance.

No, you, lucky lad, will keep the books

From this wonderful (windowless) nook.

A noble call, such as it is

To traverse cross the stars for this;

To forgo hopes of kith and kin.

Did I mention the walls are thin?

We hope that you’ll enjoy your term

In our newest accounting firm.

Your furrowed brow has made it clear,

You’re really going to love it here.

One last thing I should have spoken

I fear the coffee-machine has broken.”

Tahquamenon

Beyond Michigan’s sandy view

North of Huron’s emerald hue

Lie forests for interminable expanse

Where waters flow and spirits dance.

Nearer now to cold, rocky shores

And winds the voyageurs endured

Just south of taciturn Superior

A river calls to be explored.

So on a gilded afternoon

In July when babes and spirits viewed

A moment’s rest, my burdened soul

Sought our boots and reached for pole

And set foot to path and clambered on

Beside the sweet Tahquamenon.

The boisterous crowds soon gave way

To jarring call of crow and jay

Which seemed to echo mine own heart

Where anxiety seemed was sport.

Soon languid tufts of ruddy foam

Appeared as steps led far from home,

My heart, too, slowed and stilled

As those lapping waters spilled

At the feet of ancient spruce

Speaking of some forsaken truth.

While upon the land the earth held court

Each forest dweller taking part:

The chipmunk, ever bold and daring,

Dashing here and there, never caring

Upon whose path he dared to tread

Whether underfoot or overhead.

Fox snake curls in heat of day

Out to soak each sun-kissed ray

Basking in the nourishing warmth

Bringing liveliness to mind and form.

Redstart stark and ever flitting

To and fro, never sitting

Or wasting any precious hour

Beneath homely bough or bower.

Slowed, in time, my steps become

As I can opposing banks for some

Sight of the jovial otter

The precocious kin of nobler brothers

Til I alight upon a bench

Disturbing a formerly idling finch

And stare upon the tumbling waters

To seek the peace that patience fosters

Watching damsels flit where they please

And the gentle swaying of the trees.

Such beauty born of elegance

Of simplicity and gentleness

Free from the day’s vile intrusions

And my troubled mind’s delusions.

In now swoops the hummingbird

In wonder, my heart says not a word

As she aloft and hovering

Alights a bush most flowering

And all at once darts away

To unknown resting place to stay

And with her does my doubt depart

And something deeper did she impart

For ‘neath arching hemlocks my soul finds rest,

My stirrings stop, my worries cease.

While waters rush to quickening boil

And weary feet beneath me toil

My spirit tarries ‘tween frond and fen

On the shores of sweet Tahquamenon.

The Maker’s call I hear anew

Where beneath my feet tannic waters brew,

Abiding always, I understand,

Where’re do His children stand.

Yet here, oh here, I perceive it clear

That voice once so achingly near;

That voice that often slips away

In the tumult of the world’s sway.

Alone beneath the cedar stand

On bracken floors in northern lands

The peace of Christ again descends

As placid as the river bends.

When my footsteps take me far

Where the sky is veiled and no star

Dares to shine, foreboding dread

And I lie sleepless on my bed

I’ll trust not the works of fickle men

Nor the poets hoary pen;

I’ll ponder not dark possibilities

Or resign myself to eccentricities

But seek Him while He may be found

On holy land; on hallowed ground.

I’ll dream of days and miles long gone

And glories of Tahquamenon.

Halls of Stone

These canyon walls forsaking dawn

The shadows cast growing long

Time-wrought halls of callous stone

Bear their scars of white-washed bone.

These reckless days; this roving heart.

The pebble is cast

Into depths unknown.

This fragile faith; a fleeting thing

Born of shallow pools and teeming things.

Such tenuous cords of air and earth

Daring dreams of second birth.

Deep in night the baser things

Prowling round longing to devour.

The beasts laid low in hovels still

Tarrying now in shelters unseen

Trembling at the kraven host,

Who, in roving, ever seek

To corrupt;

To consume;

To know no peace.

Daylight yields the great flowering

Blossoms wrought by unseen hands;

Fruit, by strokes of gilded brush

Burgeoning and lush.

Such flash of life under gauzy rays

Bespeak the power of a greater gaze.

Upon frigid stone are deep letters hewn

Made flesh by winds that whip and whirl;

Souls made flesh by will not rote

By Spirit’s whim their futures’ sealed

Above the ebbing obedience;

The rise and falls,

Sometimes tortuous displays

Of blessings in fragility.

In drought or torrent;

Life or death

The sinuous strands run fast and deep

Beneath the earth’s temporal crust

Hidden now

Yet ever still remain

Ever still remain.