I want to begin by saying, I in no way compare myself to Our Heavenly Father! But, sometimes the lessons He teaches us about who He is and who we can be, hit very close to home. Having said that...
Steven had a preliminary trial on Thursday morning. I left the courtroom so enraged, disappointed, and bewildered, my first instinct was to come home and write a Letter to the Editor. Or a book. Or an entry for this blog. Something, just write something. Purge. I crawled into bed and stayed there until yesterday morning. I didn't speak of it. I didn't think of it.
One of the issues I had been wrestling with, was the issue of "losing my son." I was told nothing. The people who were supposed to be supporting me, communicating with me -- failed me. The "other side," no doubt was laughing at me. And my son was gone. I don't know if he is incarcerated. I don't know if he is homeless or hurting, or seeking to get in touch with "the victim" in this case. I don't know, but here is a child -- my child -- who made me construction paper valentines, held my hand as we drove along in the car, kissed me "goodbye" as I dropped him off to work, who has thumbed his nose at everything I tried to teach him, and I can't even reach out to him.
This morning, I saw the picture that God had painted for me in my sadness: "There is nothing new under the sun." (Ecclesiastes 1:9) Now, the author of this poem had found all that humanity contrived was pointless, vain , and "old hat." Today's "New Age" religions are just ancient ideas recycled by humanity; most writing is just a new twist on an old tale. And while we can read Ecclesiastes and feel disappointment and contempt for the things of this world, we can rejoice for the victory we receive at the hands of Our Father in Heaven. We can delight in the fact that He is not "of our world." Do you think my situation is the first of its kind? Do you think the feelings evoked have never been felt? I don't think I need to mention that my very own Father knows the grief of losing a son. I'm pretty sure He did not crack open a bag of Cheetos and watch back-to-back episodes of "Law and Order." And the children who have turned their backs on Him?
I am not alone, have never been alone, will never be alone! I have been betrayed by man's system and man's actions. Nothing new; been going on for thousands of years. But God? God is faithful, God is in control, and the one I always seem to forget... God is love.
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Monday, January 11, 2010
God World I
I am religious about donating blood, so I was thrilled to find a drive at The Franklin Institute last Tuesday, eight weeks after my last donation. This one came with a really cool incentive -- a ticket to Body World 2 for donors. It just so happens Christine is taking high school Biology and Scott had missed the exhibit the last time around -- Perfect! Tickets are costly, but well worth it; one free ticket would defray the cost for the three of us substantially.
Well, it worked -- I donated, and after putting in my obligatory time at the canteen (the part I hate the most -- sitting still, doing nothing "for no good reason") we got our tickets and went in. We slowly visited each model, staring open-mouthed at numerous examples of the Artist's handiwork -- the Artist being Our Heavenly Father. The man hailed as the artist by the exhibit is Gunther von Hagens, and as far as I can see, he is more the messenger. He has taken the wonders of God's creation and used them to proclaim God's imagination, His sheer genius and His deep love for mankind. Gunther von Hagens, sometimes heretofore referred to as "The Messenger" takes the bodies of donors and, through a process called Plastination which he developed, preserves them for us to study, admire and stared at, open-mouthed. The Messenger's work truly is amazing. He arranges the bodies in a multitude of activities we, the living, enjoy daily without giving much thought to them. He preserves cross-sections and individual bone, organ, and nerve specimens. He cuts away areas of entire bodies to show us the multitude of layers that make up our bodies. The Messenger gives, as Christine pointed out, each work of art a new identity, renaming them according to the activities in which they are today "engaged" or the qualities von Hagens has given them. There is "The Skateboarder," "The Ponderer," (a take-off from Rodin's "The Thinker") and "The Drawer Man," an amazing full-body model in which von Hagens has cut cross-sections and replaced them back into the model, "Dali-style". In "The Exploding Man" von Hagens has suspended components of the human body within inches of each other, allowing us to see each item from all angles, but appearing as if they could all just collapse together like a completed jigsaw puzzle.
The website for Body World says the purpose of the exhibit is health education, strictly utilitarian in purpose. However, the message for those who know the True Artist is unequivocally clear. When gazing at these works of art, one can't help but admire The Artist. Some reviews of the exhibit have questioned the audacity of The Messenger in calling himself an artist, and by definition, I must as well. The Messenger has definitely done something amazing, he has obviously put his own perspective into each exhibit, and there appears to be a sense of "ownership" and care with which he has completed his work, but artist? The Artist here is most definitely the One who lovingly, intricately designed each and every one of us. In this exhibit we are able to see the physical elements of God's handiwork, and it is absolutley breathtaking. We are able to see the heart that beats inside each one of us, the blood that gives each one of us life, the organs that work to nourish us and move us, the bones that protect some of our most valuable possessions -- all of the things that make us unique to other lifeforms but alike unto ourselves. There is certainly artwork here, but it is God's.
As for von Hagens' role? I can only thank and praise God for that as well. Whether The Messenger knows it or not, he is God's messenger. Whether it is his desire or not, God uses him to testify to The Artist's stunning creativity. Whether The Messenger's purposes were simple or not, God's purposes are always larger. God has used some of the most heinous, hideous and unspeakable acts to bring glory to His name, He can certainly use the curiousities and talent of one man. We are not always part of the team, but in God's World we are always part of The Plan!
Well, it worked -- I donated, and after putting in my obligatory time at the canteen (the part I hate the most -- sitting still, doing nothing "for no good reason") we got our tickets and went in. We slowly visited each model, staring open-mouthed at numerous examples of the Artist's handiwork -- the Artist being Our Heavenly Father. The man hailed as the artist by the exhibit is Gunther von Hagens, and as far as I can see, he is more the messenger. He has taken the wonders of God's creation and used them to proclaim God's imagination, His sheer genius and His deep love for mankind. Gunther von Hagens, sometimes heretofore referred to as "The Messenger" takes the bodies of donors and, through a process called Plastination which he developed, preserves them for us to study, admire and stared at, open-mouthed. The Messenger's work truly is amazing. He arranges the bodies in a multitude of activities we, the living, enjoy daily without giving much thought to them. He preserves cross-sections and individual bone, organ, and nerve specimens. He cuts away areas of entire bodies to show us the multitude of layers that make up our bodies. The Messenger gives, as Christine pointed out, each work of art a new identity, renaming them according to the activities in which they are today "engaged" or the qualities von Hagens has given them. There is "The Skateboarder," "The Ponderer," (a take-off from Rodin's "The Thinker") and "The Drawer Man," an amazing full-body model in which von Hagens has cut cross-sections and replaced them back into the model, "Dali-style". In "The Exploding Man" von Hagens has suspended components of the human body within inches of each other, allowing us to see each item from all angles, but appearing as if they could all just collapse together like a completed jigsaw puzzle.
The website for Body World says the purpose of the exhibit is health education, strictly utilitarian in purpose. However, the message for those who know the True Artist is unequivocally clear. When gazing at these works of art, one can't help but admire The Artist. Some reviews of the exhibit have questioned the audacity of The Messenger in calling himself an artist, and by definition, I must as well. The Messenger has definitely done something amazing, he has obviously put his own perspective into each exhibit, and there appears to be a sense of "ownership" and care with which he has completed his work, but artist? The Artist here is most definitely the One who lovingly, intricately designed each and every one of us. In this exhibit we are able to see the physical elements of God's handiwork, and it is absolutley breathtaking. We are able to see the heart that beats inside each one of us, the blood that gives each one of us life, the organs that work to nourish us and move us, the bones that protect some of our most valuable possessions -- all of the things that make us unique to other lifeforms but alike unto ourselves. There is certainly artwork here, but it is God's.
As for von Hagens' role? I can only thank and praise God for that as well. Whether The Messenger knows it or not, he is God's messenger. Whether it is his desire or not, God uses him to testify to The Artist's stunning creativity. Whether The Messenger's purposes were simple or not, God's purposes are always larger. God has used some of the most heinous, hideous and unspeakable acts to bring glory to His name, He can certainly use the curiousities and talent of one man. We are not always part of the team, but in God's World we are always part of The Plan!
Sunday, December 20, 2009
The Call of Winter
Up at 5:30 this morning to witness the bittersweet end of a long snow... (Well, maybe not long by New England standards, but more than 24 hours of snow is pretty long by Philadelphia's watch.)
I hate the end of a snow storm -- watching the last snow flakes drift to earth, stragglers left behind by the rest of the storm as it moves on to blanket some other town with snowy stillness. Inside I cry, "Stay! It's not enough yet. Cars are still moving, people are still digging." As a kid, I remember pouring over pages of Ideals magazine, longing for the quiet of a snowy night, the thick cotton of snow drifts keeping entire towns cozy and comfy within their homes, windows glowing with warm light that defies the dark and the cold. No one in those scenes felt a driving urge to head to the local Wawa for smokes, or had the necessity to dig out so they could work the late shift at the local hospital. Everyone lay wrapped in the security of their homes, the world stood still, and there was no fire brighter or warmer than the fires in their hearts when surrounded by family. If the snow would just stay, maybe we would be forced to call a timeout to our busy lives (especially at this time of year) and focus on the things that are worth enjoying.
I love the end of a snow storm -- watching the last snow flakes drift to earth, tenacious "holdouts" determined to get to their intended destination, despite the forward locomotion of their collaborators. The neighborhood is still, the snow glistens like a field of diamonds in the moonlight, thick frosty batting deadens the crackle of humanity and its progress. In just a few hours, the town will awaken and its inhabitants will spring from its bowels, shovels and brooms in hand, alive with the cold and chattering about things like record snowfall and future predictions. Conjecture abounds as to just "how much" we got and whether this is the onset of the "snowiest winter" in years. Neighbors help neighbors and new friends are made as conversation turns from the weather to local sports teams or home improvements made by the new neighbors at "that old house down the street." The air is frigid but the comraderie is warm. Small children play at their parents' feet, and older children form new allies in a war of snowballs that eventually breaks out; young and old alike work together on forts and snowmen across the town -- the evidence of their efforts remains long after the heat of the sun has driven the husk of snowflakes from the rest of the landscape.
Well, happy to write some more, but shoveling and snowfort building beckon alike!
I hate the end of a snow storm -- watching the last snow flakes drift to earth, stragglers left behind by the rest of the storm as it moves on to blanket some other town with snowy stillness. Inside I cry, "Stay! It's not enough yet. Cars are still moving, people are still digging." As a kid, I remember pouring over pages of Ideals magazine, longing for the quiet of a snowy night, the thick cotton of snow drifts keeping entire towns cozy and comfy within their homes, windows glowing with warm light that defies the dark and the cold. No one in those scenes felt a driving urge to head to the local Wawa for smokes, or had the necessity to dig out so they could work the late shift at the local hospital. Everyone lay wrapped in the security of their homes, the world stood still, and there was no fire brighter or warmer than the fires in their hearts when surrounded by family. If the snow would just stay, maybe we would be forced to call a timeout to our busy lives (especially at this time of year) and focus on the things that are worth enjoying.
I love the end of a snow storm -- watching the last snow flakes drift to earth, tenacious "holdouts" determined to get to their intended destination, despite the forward locomotion of their collaborators. The neighborhood is still, the snow glistens like a field of diamonds in the moonlight, thick frosty batting deadens the crackle of humanity and its progress. In just a few hours, the town will awaken and its inhabitants will spring from its bowels, shovels and brooms in hand, alive with the cold and chattering about things like record snowfall and future predictions. Conjecture abounds as to just "how much" we got and whether this is the onset of the "snowiest winter" in years. Neighbors help neighbors and new friends are made as conversation turns from the weather to local sports teams or home improvements made by the new neighbors at "that old house down the street." The air is frigid but the comraderie is warm. Small children play at their parents' feet, and older children form new allies in a war of snowballs that eventually breaks out; young and old alike work together on forts and snowmen across the town -- the evidence of their efforts remains long after the heat of the sun has driven the husk of snowflakes from the rest of the landscape.
Well, happy to write some more, but shoveling and snowfort building beckon alike!
Monday, December 7, 2009
Angry Ranting, Amazing Grace
I'm normal -- or at least I think so. Then again, don't most abnormal people think they are fine and it's the rest of the world that's messed up? Or maybe, somewhere deep down inside they know they are crazy, but fear, or ignorance, or something else keeps them from making the changes they need. A counselor once told me, "Normal is being able to recognize the abnormal," or something like that. The point is this, I don't think I am superhuman, most times I feel like a "very bad Christian" and I wish I'd handled things better than I did, but when it comes to some pretty basic things, I think I can tell truth from horse manure, and I don't think it takes Super Christian to do it. Sometimes I witness some pretty blatant wrongs and hear some pretty blatant lies, and I want to ask, "Are you sure that's the story you wanna go with?" I am amazed that people think they are "getting over," that they believe others will fall for this crap! I am amazed there was a day when I was so lost that I would have.
For instance, I cannot imagine asking someone to share a loan with you, eventually turning said loan over to that person in default, and holding it against him for the rest of his life, much less his widow's. I cannot imagine being a middle-aged family man, having your retired mother pay car insurance on her vehicle (which you are now driving), and refusing to speak to her when she tells you she wants her car back. I cannot imagine having a child who needs help from legal authorities and from medical profesionals, and refusing your child that help because...? (I still have no rationale for that one). I cannot fathom a man who is given everything, ruthlessly stealing from someone he loves because he had a difficult childhood at the hands of someone completely removed from the situation!
I'm not trying to "out" anyone or make public any dirty laundry, but these are people I have known and loved for years! These are people who, some of them, profess a faith in our Lord Jesus Christ. These are people, some of which, I have stood shoulder to shoulder with in protesting similar unjustices done to others. These are people who claim to love. Now they are making harrassing phone calls, writing vile letters, "unfriending on Facebook" -- what is this? Middle School? A spade is a spade, folks! I'm not saying I'm perfect; I'm not saying I am always on cue, but when it comes to the obvious, can we stop blaming anyone but ourselves for one minute. I am amazed these people actually think someone is going to side with them or think they are the wounded in all of this. Do they really believe the lies they tell? Are they that lost? The blindest of men can tell truth from lies.
For many years I had a warped sense of who I was, what was right and wrong, and who I served. Quite honestly, the jury is still out on whether I would have fallen for too much of this nonsense, but thanks to my gracious Lord and Savior I can view things through His eyes and measure things against His Standard. I no longer have to be lost in the solutions and reasons of man. I no longer need to be alone and unsure. I can put Jesus first, others second, and wait on what God has for me; I can serve without fear of being wrongfully used. These are things God has so graciously given to me -- that's not to say I always accept them, always utilize them or always keep them as my first thought, but they are gifts I most certainly possess and have at my disposal for as long as I walk in God's grace. Thanks to God for providing a way out of the human condition; I pray I always bring my every decision before Him for His Wisdom and His examination. I pray those I love seek His Counsel as well.
For instance, I cannot imagine asking someone to share a loan with you, eventually turning said loan over to that person in default, and holding it against him for the rest of his life, much less his widow's. I cannot imagine being a middle-aged family man, having your retired mother pay car insurance on her vehicle (which you are now driving), and refusing to speak to her when she tells you she wants her car back. I cannot imagine having a child who needs help from legal authorities and from medical profesionals, and refusing your child that help because...? (I still have no rationale for that one). I cannot fathom a man who is given everything, ruthlessly stealing from someone he loves because he had a difficult childhood at the hands of someone completely removed from the situation!
I'm not trying to "out" anyone or make public any dirty laundry, but these are people I have known and loved for years! These are people who, some of them, profess a faith in our Lord Jesus Christ. These are people, some of which, I have stood shoulder to shoulder with in protesting similar unjustices done to others. These are people who claim to love. Now they are making harrassing phone calls, writing vile letters, "unfriending on Facebook" -- what is this? Middle School? A spade is a spade, folks! I'm not saying I'm perfect; I'm not saying I am always on cue, but when it comes to the obvious, can we stop blaming anyone but ourselves for one minute. I am amazed these people actually think someone is going to side with them or think they are the wounded in all of this. Do they really believe the lies they tell? Are they that lost? The blindest of men can tell truth from lies.
For many years I had a warped sense of who I was, what was right and wrong, and who I served. Quite honestly, the jury is still out on whether I would have fallen for too much of this nonsense, but thanks to my gracious Lord and Savior I can view things through His eyes and measure things against His Standard. I no longer have to be lost in the solutions and reasons of man. I no longer need to be alone and unsure. I can put Jesus first, others second, and wait on what God has for me; I can serve without fear of being wrongfully used. These are things God has so graciously given to me -- that's not to say I always accept them, always utilize them or always keep them as my first thought, but they are gifts I most certainly possess and have at my disposal for as long as I walk in God's grace. Thanks to God for providing a way out of the human condition; I pray I always bring my every decision before Him for His Wisdom and His examination. I pray those I love seek His Counsel as well.
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