BEGINNING A CONVERSATION

Spirit Feather, Jamestown, NC

Memorial Weekend, 2014

This small feather slowly drifted in the morning sunlight recently as I sat on a bench in my backyard. It glided to a peaceful rest at my feet and I rather unconsciously picked it up. It certainly wasn’t a gaudy loud object demanding my attention, but nevertheless it did fully capture my imagination. I’ve kept it at my work station ever since as a gentle reminder of the spiritual presence that we coexist with every day. There are folks out there who say that God actually speaks to them at times. I wouldn’t dispute that, but I’m not certain that I’ve ever actually engaged in an active two way conversation myself. However, I am certain that there are many ways to commune with our God. The Psalmist instructs us to be still for openers. It’s difficult to converse with anyone in the midst of our busy and noisy world today. And it’s equally difficult to communicate with someone until you have their undivided attention.

I would venture that we’ve all been in a circumstance at some time where an enlightened sixth sense captured our complete attention. I’ve always been drawn to the opening scene of the Forrest Gump movie where a feather is lightly floating in the air around Forrest in a provocative way that gives it ethereal life. I suppose that’s easier to pull off in the movies with today’s animation, but I’ve witnessed it in real life too. It’s not common for us to see a white feather or a single crimson leaf lightly gliding along in the breeze and gently landing at our feet. Especially when it curiously seems to possess something more than you would expect from an inanimate object. And then there’s the butterfly in the middle of the day or a firefly at night landing on our arm while we’ve paused life in a park or our backyard. These are very animated and real creatures that again seem to possess some mysterious attribute that only our sixth sense can discern. People throughout the ages have considered these events as signs of loved ones letting us know that all is well on the other side. The flight of feathers, fireflies and butterflies personify spiritual beings. Since we can’t always be sure of the source, perhaps it is our Heavenly Father who is assuring us that He is ultimately in control on both sides of the thin veil.

There are other events that capture our attention as well such as a colorful rainbow after a storm, brilliant new creations of sunrise beginnings, peaceful sundown reminders of rest, a warm snow melt after a long winter, the sun’s diagonal rays breaking through scattered dark clouds, a refreshing morning shower in the midst of a drought, the wind gently moving and singing through pine needles, and of course, created new life revealed through children and grandchildren, puppies, foals, and flower blossoms.

These symbols of hope are signs of God’s presence and reminders that our Creator is beginning a conversation with us. And they prompt us to consciously pause life to begin relational communication that can sustain and nurture us as we continue our journey.

THREE HOURS OF DARKNESS

Both the gospels of Matthew and Luke record that the sun stopped shining and a total darkness came over the land from the sixth hour until the ninth hour prior to Jesus’ death on the cross. Then he cried out “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” He was echoing the words of King David in Psalm 22 who was also experiencing a painful separation from God and was vainly appealing to God for acceptance. Those three hours of darkness were a period of great duress when the gravity of all the sins of the world were being taken upon God himself to atone for them as the final blood sacrifice for all mankind. There is no scientific explanation for such a phenomenon. Science records, for instance, that the longest duration eclipse of the sun is seven and one half minutes.

The Jewish clock begins at sunrise, so this darkness descended right in the middle of the day when the sun is at its brightest overhead. Total daylight hours are divided by twelve to arrive at each Sha’ah Zemanit or proportional hour. Those three hours of darkness had to be both physical and spiritual. They were symbolic of the separation of the Son from the light of the Father who had been together for all time. And of course, the Prince of Darkness has long been associated with world sin. If you’ve ever experienced total darkness, such as exploring an underground cave, it will definitely get your attention! All the people in the land surely must have known that something very extraordinary was happening. Revelation informs us that in the ultimate new heaven and new earth there will be no need for a sun or moon, as God’s eternal light will always be present. That infers that those who have not chosen to be with God will spend eternity away from the presence of God in a state of total darkness. No one would wish that fate on anyone if they had experienced such a painful separation for those three hours.

We all have the ability to be the carriers of the light of God’s grace to assure that others will not suffer this terrible fate.

I’LL BE HOME FOR CHRISTMAS

Holiday Home, Charleston, SC

A friend recently asked if I was comfortable living in “the south” after transferring here fifteen years ago. There is admittedly still a slight bit of tension between the natives and “northerners”. I suppose being from the Heartland of America and a “border state” during the War Between the States over 125 years ago gives me a free pass to walk the line. But quite frankly, I don’t waste much of my precious time on this planet obsessing about a difference of opinion between two factions of long dead folks that were on both sides of the fence. Most all of us have moved on.

But the question did give me pause to think about ever being too comfortable living anywhere. I’ve had the good fortune to travel over much of this expansive country and other parts of the world to know that I don’t really belong anywhere in particular. And I’ve read that perhaps we’re actually wired to understand that this planet and this mortal life is not our primary destiny. Rather, this life and this place are just a temporary environment to grow our spirits that transcend this existence. That nagging anxiety operating in the background has been instilled in us human beings to prompt us to seek out our final destiny while we muddle through the motions of this life. Have you ever noticed that anytime we seek out a comfortable niche in the world, life happens, and we’re jolted out of it before long? You can run from life but you can’t hide and it will seek you out and pull you screaming and kicking from your rabbit hole! Perhaps that’s why so many folks are in a state of constant disillusion because they’ve come to expect that comfort is their destiny rather than the challenges and pain that accompany growth and preparation for our ultimate home.

The Christmas holiday is a special time to seek out a warm and inviting home if you have one to go to. It’s a time of year when it’s good to have friends and family around. It’s a time for fireplaces, candle light, good food, warm wishes and fellowship. It’s a time for remembering Christmas’ past and those loved ones who gather near to us in spirit. It’s a time for celebrating the Christ child who never had a comfortable, permanent home, but prepared one for all of us. Nostalgic holiday music beckons us to come home for Christmas. And if our life circumstances do not allow us to go home for Christmas this year, we can always know that “I’ll be there, if only I stay in His presence”.

WAKING THE WATCHER

Daylight Stillness, Kiawah Island, SC
Twilight Stillness, Grand Lake, OK

The founder of modern philosophy, Descartes, rendered a famous answer to the ageless question, “Is there anything I can know with absolute certainty”? He replied that “I think, therefore I am”. He was equating thinking with being, but he had actually defined our ego. The ego is constantly chattering about all the things that we need to be doing to maintain our survival and perceived identity. Three hundred years later Jean-Paul Sartre examined these words and concluded that the consciousness that understands “I am” is not the same as the ego that thinks. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be capable of knowing we are thinking. That discovery of awareness led to an emerging new dimension of consciousness.

Once we begin to exploit that voice in our head that seems to be constantly in the foreground, we can position our consciousness in the background and observe the voice. By waking the watcher, we are now beginning to comprehend our true consciousness apart from the ego that dominates much of our thoughts and thinking life. And we begin to free ourselves from our ego and its need for form and self importance. When we learn to listen to the voice we soon discover our own conscious presence apart from the mind. We are then on the true path of human beings, our essential identities as conscious beings.

It’s been said that stillness is the language God speaks and everything else is a bad translation. When we focus on being still and quieting the ego within, we can then become even more aware of our true conscious self beyond our ego. We cannot become aware of it through thinking, but silently observing. It truly becomes an “ah ha” moment when we are able to consciously observe the mind raising up another thought that competes for our attention. That’s the moment we comprehend the separation between our ego and our conscious self. When we are still, we become aware of the formless, eternal, consciousness we will be when our bodily form dissolves. The Psalmist knew this when he was inspired to write Psalm 46:10, “Be still, and know that I am God”.

STANDING ON THE CORNER

Running of the Leaves, Jamestown, NC

I was casually driving in the climate controlled comfort of my car's leather cabin this morning while listening to a remastered version of The Beatles Abbey Road which I had downloaded onto the hard disc drive of the audio system. A mid-November cold front preceded by a cold rain riding a north wind was pushing its way into the Carolinas, reminding all who ventured out today that the holidays were once again knocking at our doorstep. Passing vehicles stirred rapid successions of mini-whirlwinds of leaf devils, like the dust devils that swirl over freshly plowed farm fields. They gathered in great bands and rapidly joined together in powerful wind gusts to race down the street and along banked gutters. The very high spirited among them raced onto the freeway, attempting to outrun the speeding vehicles in a scene reminiscent of the running of the bulls.

As I rolled past the edge of a local college campus, I caught the eye of a young man huddled on the street corner apparently waiting to cross over to his Spartan off campus apartment. He was wearing typical campus attire with a dark hoodie over blue jeans. He seemed isolated and a bit uneasy as the reality of a raw cold wind penetrated the exposed core of his body and the survival instinct of his psyche.

That brief glance shook me out of my complacency and the Beatles music whisked me away back to my simplistic roots of college days in the 1960’s. My father had died of cancer during my sophomore year and I had laid out during the fall semester to earn enough money to continue my education. I sold my customized Ford and eventually lived back at home to obtain a degree. I had worked as a construction laborer and welder on an industrial building expansion project. Just as we removed the immense north doors of the large building to reposition them onto the new expansion, a similar cold front hit the area with scattered sleet riding on north winds that stung your exposed face. We had to finish the job, so we worked out in the elements for twenty minutes and then sought shelter and warmth inside for twenty minutes until the building was secured. I made considerably less money on that job than I currently earn in retirement. But it was enough.

Those kinds of early experiences can define a life. The challenges became a crucible to harden my resilience and move ahead. I eventually also learned that I never stood alone as long as I asked my heavenly Father to stand with me. And here I am today, silently passing by another young man standing alone on the corner, full of promise and hope for the future as he shivers in the elements. I wish him all the best including the presence of his heavenly Father to sustain him, north winds to keep his attention focused and enough hard times to strengthen his resolve.

UP IN THE AIR

Air Force Two, Piedmont Triad Airport, NC

I was on a late flight into Charlotte on a recent Sunday night. I had previously booked an aisle seat when I made my reservations on-line which is my preferred location on a plane after numerous road warrior trips. My absolute last choice is the center seat on planes with three seats together in a row. Inevitably, one or both persons in the aisle and window seats either hasn’t bathed since leaving home to work in the tropics with a primitive tribe of headhunters or they are constantly eating, drinking and listening to loud rap music or an Armageddon movie on some electronic device. And of course, I always cringe when some harried mother boards with a screaming child and begins to eye the seat next to mine.

Well, I didn’t get the personal hygiene person with a strange rash this trip, but I did get the crying baby. And then I noticed as I rose to allow access to the center seat next to me that an older woman in the center seat behind us knew the young mother. It was soon apparent that they were traveling together. Now I was conflicted with a choice—either sit next to the fussy baby for the next two hours or offer my coveted aisle seat to the grandmother in a center seat--decisions, decisions. I weighed my limited options and opted for the center seat in the next row in hopes that the grandmother would be much better suited to quiet the fussy baby. And I have joined other passengers in the past to give up seats to allow family members to sit together on crowded and chaotic flights.

Fortunately, the young man in the window seat to my right was a professional hockey scout and my traveling companion on the aisle seemed subdued enough. After making our introductions, I opened the book I was reading on Jesus’ life and his vision for us to lead lives of love, dignity, compassion, forgiveness, and hope. Since I was in the center seat with my overhead reading light on, I noticed that the young man on the aisle was also casually reading along once we were up in the air. Only when he spoke did I finally notice the camouflage hat he was wearing along with civilian clothing. He acknowledged the Christian book and implied that he had grown up in a Christian home. Then after he had apparently become comfortable with talking to me, he blurted out a serious issue that he had carried home to Tennessee after his return from the Afghanistan war.

I learned long ago that most folks who share a serious issue with someone are not really looking for a solution. And we men have the knee jerk DNA to immediately offer one. But people generally just want to talk out their pent up frustrations to someone who can patiently listen while keeping their mouth shut. So I just sat back in my center seat and let him talk through why he came home to Tennessee with this issue and occasionally offered any insights I had gleaned from the teachings I had learned from studying Jesus’ life and words at church and through readings. Our plane soon reached a comfortable cruising altitude and speed. The young soldier seemed to settle down and we toasted small plastic containers of soda drizzled over ice served by our aging steward. Later, friends suggested that perhaps a higher power had a hand in changing my seat assignment and a crying baby led me to a stranger in need of the message in my book and someone to listen to him while up in the air at 30,000 feet. And I’ve learned over the years that many times God will use human vessels of clay to pour out His grace to others in need if we are open to the experience. We’ve all been instructed to go out into the world to teach others of God’s love for His creation—and if necessary, we should use words.

SHADOW COLUMNS

Shadow Colunms, I-40, NC

I was out on the open road recently and encountered another of those “Aha moments” as a passing cloud partially obscured the sun and revealed the sun’s rays shining through to my line of sight. I had learned earlier that meteorologists have actually named these light shafts crepuscular rays. But what I finally realized was that those rays of light had been with me all the time. It was only when a passing storm seemingly blocked them from my sight that I took notice. And what I was really observing were the consequent columns of dark shadows that provided the contrast in the skies above.

Our Carolina church celebrates old time “camp meeting” services for a few Sundays in the summer time. We sing old time gospels and imagine images of folks gathered in gingham dresses and shirts goin’ down to the river for salvation during the Victorian farming days. The spirit of that service brought back memories of my youth growing up in a small church in central Kansas, with the windows open wide on a warm Sunday morning. You could feel the spirit of God coming into that sanctuary on those warm summer breezes. But the invited spirit of God can arrive in many different ways, as demonstrated by a little blond girl that was sitting next to me.

At the conclusion of his sermon, our pastor asked anyone who felt the need to come forward to kneel and pray at the altar for God’s healing touch. And folks of all ages and probable reasons did come forward to be closer to their creator to receive His blessing. As the kneeling rails were vacated, I noticed the young little blond girl nudging her parents. She then reached into the busy bag they had carried with them into the pew and retrieved a small, well-loved, wide-eyed, white lamb. Then the four of them made their way to the altar and kneeled to pray, as the little girl placed the little lamb at the altar among the family. The symbolism was quite touching as the Lamb of God revealed His presence within that family and our congregation to shed His grace among all of us on a bright summer’s morn down by the Deep River.

No one is exempt from the dark days we experience in life, not even God as demonstrated on that Black Friday. But a bright light did shine out of the darkness on Easter Sunday to reveal a way through to the other side. And just as the shadow columns had helped to reveal the rays of light that were there in my presence, the life challenges that were being experienced by those people who had come forward gave us all pause to reflect and be aware of the Eternal light that could help everyone get through those dark shadows.

THE TREE BESIDE LIVING WATERS

Beside Living Waters, Yorktown, VA

"The patriot's blood is the seed of Freedom's Tree."
--Thomas Campbell

I take a lot of photographs out in nature and I especially like to photograph images of light such as sunrises, sunsets and reflections. Not too many images of trees catch my eye, but one did as I was standing on the hallowed ground of the final battle of the American Revolution in Yorktown, Virginia. The graceful, wide ranging branches of a tree that was growing beside the York River immediately caught my attention. This living creation seemed to be bowing in silent reverence. Its symmetry and innate beauty is a visual testament to the last breaths taken by so many patriots that had fought and fell in the pursuit of freedom at this place. Their life blood had literally been spilled on this ground and it’s plausible that elements had eventually been drawn up by the giant tree’s life giving root system to sustain the organism.

I’m reminded of the writings of the very first Psalm in which those who place their faith in God are likened to a tree that is planted beside flowing, cool streams of water that never run dry. The Psalmist relates that your fruit ripens in its time and your leaves never fade or curl in the summer sun. No matter what you do, you prosper, i.e., when we apply God’s wisdom the fruit or results we bear will be good and receive God’s approval. This doesn’t imply an easy life, but a worthwhile life of true value. The Psalmist continues that those who turn their back on Him are like fallen husks of wheat, tossed by an open wind, left deserted and alone. Their path will end tragically, but the journey of all has been charted by the Eternal if we choose to follow. Those first Americans sought individual and religious freedom and dreamed of a future where their descendants worshiped God in a grand experiment of diversity and the unbridled pursuit of happiness. They planted their dream of a new country and new beginnings beside a stream of living water and the roots ran deep and they were never thirsty again.

STANDING ON HOLY GROUND

Rocky Mountain High, Colorado
Ground Zero, New York, NY
Peaceful Garden, Greensboro, NC

Four years after we met and were married, my young wife and I spent our honeymoon in and around the colorful Colorado Rocky Mountains and rushing river valleys. I still have a sharp memory of standing together early one morning at the rim of a deep gorge in the Mesa Verde high country. An eagle soared on the winds’ warm updraft and his call echoed off the cliffs. The ancients that had built the stone cliff dwellings in this gorge had mysteriously abandoned their village long ago. As we stood there in the shade of weathered pines and quietly listened to the wind singing in the needles and the great chasm below, we began to experience God’s presence around us. There was a keen sense of awe and inspiration that we were standing on holy ground in the midst of God’s magnificent creation.

Almost forty years later, my wife and I were in New York City in 2004 celebrating my birthday and we took a taxi to the recently cleared “ground zero” site. Our female taxi driver was on duty the morning of September 11, 2001 and soon afterwards. On our drive to the area, she respectfully shared her experience that day and of hearing pinging sounds coming from the destruction for weeks later. It is sound that she will never forget. We stood at the security fence quietly observing the stark area with a lone rusting iron cross that had been fashioned out of the rubble where almost 3,000 souls had perished. I took this photograph on my birth date of an inscription left by another pilgrim. We instinctively knew that we were standing on hallowed ground as we reverently read the heartfelt message.

Four years later, the two of us were sitting on a park bench near home viewing one of the most beautiful images I had ever captured in my camera lens. I had just wandered over to a Magnolia tree in the small garden park where we enjoyed walking together in the cool of the day. My wife was uncharacteristically tired on this morning after a rather severe chemo treatment, but we were both overwhelmed by the sense of peace and love this image gave us. We didn’t quite understand it at the time, but we were once again standing together on holy ground at that moment. Fifteen days later, I was standing with my family on holy ground as she was welcomed into His presence.

The experience of these holy present moments can be life changing.