Hearing the Music

Poetry and Words

Words are amazing! When I say, “A maple tree in every color of citrus including blood orange,” a creative image pops in your head. Maybe you saw a tree like that in your travels. Maybe you imagine one in your mind and it happens to have oranges, lemons, and limes for leaves. Or maybe you didn’t, but now you do. Words take you along a path, a story. 

I trained and worked as a nurse for 45 years. That’s a lot of left-brain work: science, formulas, metrics, policies. But when I discovered poetry about 12 years ago, it was as if I could feel my right brain stretch and flex its neurons in a new way. I enjoy the feeling, the process and the craft. I enjoy the connection it gives to others as we discuss poems and poetry.

Nature is my main muse. Something about being outside enjoying God’s creation makes me want to write about it. Sometimes it’s just an observation, but that might turn into a metaphor, and then I’m delighted when it goes a step further and God shows me something about his character and his care for us.

Recently, I wrote a poem about the Westminster Confession of Faith 7.1 after a Sunday School class (okay, different muse), and in asking Bruce Baugus about the word “fruition” among other words, he wrote: “I generally cast this in terms of enjoyment. That comes most from Augustine, who I find extremely helpful on some of these points. For Augustine we use some things to enjoy other things and the ultimate object of enjoyment is God alone. Thus everything else is to be used to that end, and doing so is to make a right use of all other things because everything exists to the end of knowing and enjoying God (the glory of God).” This helped me see that I use poetry to enjoy nature to the end of knowing and enjoying God to his glory. 

At the condo association where we live, I offered to paint the address plaques and a surprising benefit was that I was able to compose poems while mindlessly painting. My eyes and ears were open to the abundance of wildlife around. I was considering how to describe the evening crickets. I couldn’t sleep that night and pulled out Luci Shaw's book What the Light Was Like. In her poem “The Simple Dark,” she writes: 

    The shadow purples,
    the dusk intricate with crickets. The sky
    infested with pricks of light.
    My whole body an ear, an eye.

See what she did there? I count six times she used the “K” sound in two sentences. The crickets are singing right there in the words. Luci uses her poetry to enjoy creation and to bring glory to God. 

I’m also impressed by the lyric writers of hymns and songs with all their rhyme, rhythm and purpose. How great would it be to have your poem sung to the Lord in praise! I can’t speak for all the arts, but I know they influence each other. I’m anticipating hearing from those who enjoy other art forms. 

Remember our maple tree? All the fall colors? Is the tree groaning as it goes through this dying season? Is it fall because of The Fall? Paul said, “For the creation was subjected to frustration, not by its own choice, but by the will of the one who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be liberated from its bondage to decay and brought into the glorious freedom of the children of God.” (Romans 8:20-21). Will there be those glorious colors in heaven? Or will there be colors we can’t even imagine? Beyond blood orange.

Paul knew about bondage. In this week’s passage about the gospel he says, “...for which I am suffering, bound with chains as a criminal. But the word of God is not bound!” (2 Timothy 2:9). Looking forward to Sunday as we worship together, celebrate communion and learn as Pastor Michael teaches from God’s word, the word that is not bound. 

Fuel for the Race

It has been great hearing from some of our sisters and brothers in recent contributions to the Friday letter. We really do enjoy the benefits of being a part of the Body of Christ which is willing to encourage one another!

Speaking of encouragement, let me share with you an encounter I had last week. Many of you know I enjoy running. I don't run races and I am not fast. But I plod out my share of miles in a week. So, after dropping off Lydia, Noah and Tobias at the airport for a trip to Vancouver, I decided I would take their car back to their house in Alger Heights and run home. On the one hand my run home was lovely involving the Ken-O-Sha trail, but on the other hand it simultaneously turned out to be kind of miserable. What made it miserable? Well, it was early afternoon for one thing. My body is accustomed to running in the morning and seems to do better then. Plus, I had had some lunch a bit earlier and was still feeling it in my gut. Plus, it was like 87 degrees outside.  I love this spate of warmth and am banking it all against the dregs of March, but I was feeling the heat that day. Plus, I have been battling some lower leg pain that seems to be moving all around my left leg. That day for some reason it was in my foot? And to top it all off, the last leg of my run was up what is known on Strava as the Chamberlain Challenge, which is .6 miles at 2.1% uphill grade. I realize a 2.1% grade is not exactly like running in the Rockies, but I was feeling it that day! In many ways this run was a metaphor for life. A lot of beauty. A lot to be thankful for. But also doggone hard, with obstacles within and without.

Anyway, my travails had caused me to ease up and I was trying to figure out what was going on with my foot and if I could continue, when I hear a vehicle coming up behind me. I turned and was greeted by a mailman holding out a bottle of water. He was very friendly, encouraging me to take the water. His English was good, but it was not his first language so he was gesturing to me as well to take the water and even to pour some out on my head. As he made this gesture, he removed his hat and I was able to see that he also had a lovely head that did not have need of hair and perhaps he recognized a familiar sensitivity in the hot sun. As this short encounter came to an end, I gratefully took the water and he continued on his route. After a couple of swallows of the blessed elixir and a dash or two on my uncovered pate, I was able to rally, finish the Chamberlain challenge and make it home.

And so we come to 2 Timothy 1:8-18, our passage for Sunday. Paul, as it were, catches up to young Timothy through this letter.  Timothy is facing obstacles, within and without, as he runs the path the Lord has laid out for him. As Paul pulls up beside him, he extends the bottle of water, the Gospel. It is the power of God, our salvation and our holy calling, given not earned, through his purpose and grace, given through Christ Jesus, who abolished death and brought life and immortality to light (cf. 2 Tim 2:9,10). Paul calls out to Timothy, I am being poured out, but I am not ashamed. I do not lose heart. My strength does not flag. I am sustained by this gospel. Drink deeply my friend.

Photo by Photoholgic on Unsplash

Music, a Foretaste of Heaven

Music is a universal language. It has the unique ability to reach our hearts, cutting through language barriers and misunderstandings in a way that words often can’t. This never fails to amaze me.

It's not just the poetry, notes, or rhythm alone that create the "soul" of a song or the connection we feel when we hear it. There is some other quality in the composition of those things that makes music special. I believe that’s why music is such a central part of our worship. It touches something deep within us, while also creating a bond between us. There’s something ineffable about the beauty of music that draws us in and moves us in ways few other things can.

I grew up in a musical family, though I never excelled at learning piano. Later, during a stressful time in college, I found that playing music brought me peace when I needed it most. Eventually, I stepped into a leadership role in dorm worship, picking up guitar and learning as I went.

Susan found out that I could play guitar and has been an amazing musical influence. Bek often talks about how connecting with Susan and playing music was one of the first ways she felt connected at Christ Church. Playing at Christ Church has led to many of our best musical memories and it is one of our favorite ways to serve our church family.

I sometimes can feel nervous or inadequate when it comes to my musicianship. I worry about stumbling over notes or being out of sync with the others I’m playing with. My wife (who has impeccable rhythm) and many of my friends and family are far more accomplished musicians with a deeper technical knowledge than I have. Also, our church is filled with incredibly talented people! Sometimes I catch myself thinking, "Can I really keep up with all of this?"

I find encouragement in our passage from 2 Timothy 1:3-11 this week. Paul urges Timothy not to be timid, but to trust in the power, love, and self-discipline that come from Christ. He reminds us to "fan into flame" the gifts we’ve been given. That means my skill level on the guitar isn’t the focus—it’s not about playing perfectly. Whatever talent we bring to worship, it is good and right that we bring it to worship! The purpose is Christ. Worship comes from the joy of the good news, and that’s what pushes us to praise.

It's only right that we use music in worship. That indescribable "something" that makes music so powerful—connecting us physically, emotionally, and spiritually—is a perfect way to offer praise to God. While I believe all music and art can be forms of praise, there’s something special about worshiping together, no matter the instrument or skill level. It gives us a glimpse of what’s to come. When Christ gathers us to Himself, we will have been made perfect to continue to worship and glorify the Lord.

Photo by John Hult on Unsplash