I was struck this morning while reading from 2 Chronicles 30. It's where Hezekiah has gone through and cleansed the city, getting rid of pagan shrines and idols, consecrating priests and preparing for the re-estalishment of Passover. He sent personal letters to surrounding communities inviting them to come and celebrate to Israel's God. They'd even moved the date back a month so that as hosts they would be properly prepared. No one living had ever celebrated the Passover properly, says v.5. He sent an invitation to attend, to come back to God, to turn around, to clasp God's outstretched hand. He wrote, "If you come back to God, your captive relatives and children will be treated compassionately and allowed to come home. Your God is gracious and kind and won't snub you--come back and he'll come back to you with open arms." (v.8-9)
A huge crowd obeyed and came to attend the Passover. v. 18-19 continue:
"There were a lot of people, especially those from Ephraim, Manasseh, Issachar, and Zebulun, who did not eat the Passover meal because they had not prepared themselves adequately. Hezekiah prayed for these as follows: 'May God who is all good, pardon and forgive everyone who sincerely desires God, the God of our ancestors. Even--especially!--these who do not meet the literal conditions stated for access to The Temple.'
"God responded to Hezekiah's prayer and healed the people."
I was struck, and continue to wonder as I reflect on this passage, and on the unselfish prayer of a king for those who don't quite conform even to his understood biblical/legal standards. Rather than pray for judgment and separation, he prayed for God's pardon and mercy and forgiveness...and God responded. Most of us can agree that we know that God's healing does not always look like what we want it to look like. Oh, that we could pray in such a way, with great and good intention, for those with whom we disagree, especially on interpretation of biblical/legal standards. How might God hear, and heal we who are God's people?
Monday, August 24, 2009
Saturday, June 13, 2009
returning?
It's been a month and more since I opened this blog with one post. I didn't feel I had anything to blog...not sure what's relevant.
As I walked the house this morning, I realized that this is the first time in 20 years I have not roamed my house with a dog. Hawkeye, companion of nearly 15 years, died peacefully outside my office window on Sunday night. We knew it was time for him to go. Before Sarah and I left for Lakeside, I knelt down by him. Loved him, talked to him, held him, and gave him permission to stop fighting for his life. His cancer had taken over more completely and Brook was planning to take him to the vet while we were gone. After I was with Hawk for about 10 minutes, Sarah came downstairs and joined the love fest. She talked to him and thanked him for loving her even when she was little and pulled on him. Then Brook joined us, and it was tearful and beautiful. We left shortly after that and headed north.
Brook left me a voicemail message that night after 10:00 saying to call him as soon as I got the message. He had put Hawk in the back yard later on Sunday. He'd seen him laying under the tree, and then the hammock. He called for him to come in and got nothing. He kept calling, then walked out back. Hawkeye was where he often was, under the crab apple tree outside my office window. His hermangiosarcoma had ruptured, though there wasn't blood to suggest he'd bled out from that. He had simply expired, lying in a safe spot as he often did. I hope he was watching the squirrels run the yard as he passed, that there were the smells of barbeque and other tempting delights in the air, and that he drifted off peacefully to run with Rascal, Kylie, Murphy, Rocky, and Grandma Joyce. Brook took him down to Chillicothe very early Monday morning and buried him on the hill under two redbud trees, next to Rocky. We'll plan a trip soon so that Sarah and I can formally say goodbye.
As I write, my tears of sadness and joy are finally falling. I said to Sarah yesterday that I really hadn't grieved for him yet. I know he's "just" a dog, but he was family. I can still see him sitting in the cage at Animal Fair Pet Center when I took a walk break from Michael's Market. He was playing coy, but I think he could tell I was drawn to him. He sat sideways as he often did, kind of looking slightly over his shoulder at me. I remember the converation with Brook on the phone--"The last thing we need is another dog." But he drove over anyway, in our one-ton dump truck, dragging the hay trailer, with Rascal and Kylie in tow, headed to Chillicothe for a day of hay-making and hay-haulig. Hawkeye the 4-6 month old left with the three of them and began his life I celebrate today. A lover, not a fighter. Steady and faithful. Tolerant of children of all ages to the end. English Setter, mom's family dog growing up, and named for a cousin who died too young. Irreplacable and much loved.
Thank you God for this dog who enriched my life, and Brook's life, and Sarah's life, and Weo's life. Thank you for tears of joy and sorrow. Thank you for memories that point to yesterday and to tomorrow. And thank you for cats like Charlotte who does her best dog imitation while she wonders what happened to her buddy. Perhaps someday she will get another buddy, but for now, we'll wait.
As I walked the house this morning, I realized that this is the first time in 20 years I have not roamed my house with a dog. Hawkeye, companion of nearly 15 years, died peacefully outside my office window on Sunday night. We knew it was time for him to go. Before Sarah and I left for Lakeside, I knelt down by him. Loved him, talked to him, held him, and gave him permission to stop fighting for his life. His cancer had taken over more completely and Brook was planning to take him to the vet while we were gone. After I was with Hawk for about 10 minutes, Sarah came downstairs and joined the love fest. She talked to him and thanked him for loving her even when she was little and pulled on him. Then Brook joined us, and it was tearful and beautiful. We left shortly after that and headed north.
Brook left me a voicemail message that night after 10:00 saying to call him as soon as I got the message. He had put Hawk in the back yard later on Sunday. He'd seen him laying under the tree, and then the hammock. He called for him to come in and got nothing. He kept calling, then walked out back. Hawkeye was where he often was, under the crab apple tree outside my office window. His hermangiosarcoma had ruptured, though there wasn't blood to suggest he'd bled out from that. He had simply expired, lying in a safe spot as he often did. I hope he was watching the squirrels run the yard as he passed, that there were the smells of barbeque and other tempting delights in the air, and that he drifted off peacefully to run with Rascal, Kylie, Murphy, Rocky, and Grandma Joyce. Brook took him down to Chillicothe very early Monday morning and buried him on the hill under two redbud trees, next to Rocky. We'll plan a trip soon so that Sarah and I can formally say goodbye.
As I write, my tears of sadness and joy are finally falling. I said to Sarah yesterday that I really hadn't grieved for him yet. I know he's "just" a dog, but he was family. I can still see him sitting in the cage at Animal Fair Pet Center when I took a walk break from Michael's Market. He was playing coy, but I think he could tell I was drawn to him. He sat sideways as he often did, kind of looking slightly over his shoulder at me. I remember the converation with Brook on the phone--"The last thing we need is another dog." But he drove over anyway, in our one-ton dump truck, dragging the hay trailer, with Rascal and Kylie in tow, headed to Chillicothe for a day of hay-making and hay-haulig. Hawkeye the 4-6 month old left with the three of them and began his life I celebrate today. A lover, not a fighter. Steady and faithful. Tolerant of children of all ages to the end. English Setter, mom's family dog growing up, and named for a cousin who died too young. Irreplacable and much loved.
Thank you God for this dog who enriched my life, and Brook's life, and Sarah's life, and Weo's life. Thank you for tears of joy and sorrow. Thank you for memories that point to yesterday and to tomorrow. And thank you for cats like Charlotte who does her best dog imitation while she wonders what happened to her buddy. Perhaps someday she will get another buddy, but for now, we'll wait.
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Genesis
Genesis moments. So many. A cow named Genesis began a life phase. Genesis of various jobs and careers. Relationships. Friendships. Seasons. Ownerships. I'm not sure why I'm starting this tonight, but apparently I am. I read a friend's blog, and began the process.
Today has been filled with holy moments. Shared struggles with folks; faith journey narratives through the good, bad and ugly; 9 year old joy and laughter and singing; dog and cat love; helping a new friend out; learning of the death of a father; dissecting church buildings with colleagues; spiritual brother conversations, paying bills and planning cash flow, and wrestling with the breadth of God's love. And procrastinating.
Holy, tough conversations with Brook this week. It's a process, not an event. But it seems some of the air has cleared...so grateful for the walking through...together.
Mother's Day coming up. Giving thanks in deep ways for my mother. For her modeling unconditional love which chastens and corrects and picks up and walks beside and holds and reminds and whispers and hugs. Giving thanks for being a mom, something I wasn't sure I was cut out for (some days still not), but can't imagine life without her. She said she's glad that her birthday and Mother's Day are in the same week...and so am I.
I'm wrestling with the main thing...not only for this Sunday, but for vision and direction. If we exist to introduce or reintroduce God's amazing love to folks who don't know it or who have forgotten it, where are we living out that purpose? Can we talk about it with others? Do we extend that love in ways that make love stand out, and not ourselves?
The blog posts and articles about Christians and torture, and Christians and war illuminate the Mother's Day declaration by Julia Ward Howe. Abolition, women's suffrage, and world peace. Aren't those issues alive and well and living in the 21st century?
Today has been filled with holy moments. Shared struggles with folks; faith journey narratives through the good, bad and ugly; 9 year old joy and laughter and singing; dog and cat love; helping a new friend out; learning of the death of a father; dissecting church buildings with colleagues; spiritual brother conversations, paying bills and planning cash flow, and wrestling with the breadth of God's love. And procrastinating.
Holy, tough conversations with Brook this week. It's a process, not an event. But it seems some of the air has cleared...so grateful for the walking through...together.
Mother's Day coming up. Giving thanks in deep ways for my mother. For her modeling unconditional love which chastens and corrects and picks up and walks beside and holds and reminds and whispers and hugs. Giving thanks for being a mom, something I wasn't sure I was cut out for (some days still not), but can't imagine life without her. She said she's glad that her birthday and Mother's Day are in the same week...and so am I.
I'm wrestling with the main thing...not only for this Sunday, but for vision and direction. If we exist to introduce or reintroduce God's amazing love to folks who don't know it or who have forgotten it, where are we living out that purpose? Can we talk about it with others? Do we extend that love in ways that make love stand out, and not ourselves?
The blog posts and articles about Christians and torture, and Christians and war illuminate the Mother's Day declaration by Julia Ward Howe. Abolition, women's suffrage, and world peace. Aren't those issues alive and well and living in the 21st century?
Mother's Day Proclamation
Arise, then, women of this day!
Arise, all women who have hearts,
Whether our baptism be of water or of tears!Say firmly:
"We will not have great questions decided by irrelevant agencies,
Our husbands will not come to us, reeking with carnage, for caresses and applause.
Our sons shall not be taken from us to unlearn
All that we have been able to teach them of charity, mercy and patience.
We, the women of one country, will be too tender of those of another country
To allow our sons to be trained to injure theirs."From the bosom of the devastated Earth a voice goes up with our own.
It says: "Disarm! Disarm! The sword of murder is not the balance of justice."
Blood does not wipe out dishonor, nor violence indicate possession.
As men have often forsaken the plough and the anvil at the summons of war,
Let women now leave all that may be left of home for a great and earnest day of counsel.Let them meet first, as women, to bewail and commemorate the dead.
Let them solemnly take counsel with each other as to the means
Whereby the great human family can live in peace,
Each bearing after his own time the sacred impress, not of Caesar,
But of God.In the name of womanhood and humanity, I earnestly ask
That a general congress of women without limit of nationality
May be appointed and held at someplace deemed most convenient
And at the earliest period consistent with its objects,
To promote the alliance of the different nationalities,
The amicable settlement of international questions,
The great and general interests of peace.
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