Solid . . . as a Rock

A winter's day

In a deep and dark December.

I am alone

Gazing from my window

To the streets below

On a freshly fallen silent shroud of snow

I am a rock.

I am an island.

I am enclosed

In a fortress steep and mighty

That none may penetrate.

I have no need of friendship.

Friendship causes pain.

Its laughter and its longing I disdain.

I am a rock.

I am an island.

Don't talk of love.

Well--I've heard the word before.

It's sleeping in my memory.

I won't disturb the slumber

Of feelings that have died.

If I'd never loved

I never would have cried.

I am a rock.

I am an island.

I have my books

And my poetry to protect me.

I am shielded in my armor--

Hiding in my room,

Safe within my womb.

I touch no one.

No one touches me.

I am a rock.

I am an island.

And a rock feels no pain.

And an island never cries.

~ Simon & Garfunkle

            So--what is it for you?  Boyfriend, girlfriend, parents, friends, teachers, students, school, home, job, religion?

            Love--caring about someone or something--is a risk.  Love is a razor that cuts, a river that drowns.  Love hurts.  Care about people--thereby giving them the power to hurt you--and they will surely use it.  A child, for instance, naively loves and trusts his parents, only to be devastated when they divorce each other.  If the child had never loved, he never would have cried.  A teenager dates someone three or four times, and just when the feelings are beginning to develop, the drop slip comes--over the phone, through a friend, or in a note . . .         "But a rock feels no pain, and an island never cries."  A teacher gives his/her whole life to educating young people--spends hours planning, studying, slaving--only to be criticized, ignored, treated disrespectfully . . ."If I'd never loved, I never would have cried . . . I am a rock, I am an island."

            A frequent reaction to hurt, to being burned by caring for someone, is, of course, to force oneself to become hard emotionally--to build walls around our feelings, to shove the emotions to the back of the closet until they're needed at some later time.  This defense mechanism is used as a means of mental survival by children of divorced parents, dumped teenagers, frustrated adults, people who are dying; by kids on the street, men and women in prison, and the elderly forgotten in rest homes.  "I touch no one and no one touches me . . . I am a rock . . ."  Yet--ironically--or perhaps not so ironically--the very term "rock" that symbolizes invulnerability to man has been applied time and again to Christ, who throughout eternity has been anything but invulnerable:

            "On Christ the solid rock I stand, all other ground is sinking sand."

            "Rock of Ages, cleft for me, let me hide myself in thee."

            "The wise man built his house upon the Rock."

            Of course, the difference should be--is--obvious.  As human beings, we can throw ourselves on the rock of isolation.  We can harden ourselves to emotions, to people.  And it'll feel safe--for awhile.  But in time, that rock will become hard and cold and lonely.  And we'll long for companionship--even if it means risking hurt.  Again.

            Yes--love can be a razor that cuts, or a river that bleeds.  Love can cause pain.  In God's case, it definitely has.  Ellen White tells us in The Desire of Ages that "The plan for our redemption was not an afterthought, a plan formulated after the fall of Adam. . . . From the beginning, God and Christ knew of the apostasy of Satan, and of the fall of man . . . God . . . foresaw [the existence of sin] and made provision to meet the terrible emergency.  So great was His love for the world, that He . . . [gave] "His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish but have everlasting life.""

            God did not wall up His emotions after getting burned.  He did not become a rock or an island.  Instead, He made us anyway, and provided us with the surest way to happiness and love possible.  Solid.  As a rock.

Connected

          Seventeenth century English poet and pastor John Donne wrote a meditation that includes these famous lines:  “No man is an island entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main; if a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as any manor of thy friend’s or of thine own were; any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind.  And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.” In Donne’s day, whenever someone in the community passed away, the church bells would ring out to let everyone know that someone they knew had gone to their rest. He makes the point, though, that it wasn’t just that part of the community was no longer with them.  He says that a part of themselves has also been lost.  The connection, the thing that made all feel the loss of one, was their common ground, their humanity. 

            Beyond that mutual connection of humanity, though, is another even greater connection, however slim we might think it is.  Twentieth century American poet Anne Sexton describes it in her poem, "Small Wire":

                        My faith

                        is a great weight

                        hung on a small wire,

                        as doth the spider

                        hang her baby on a thin web,

                        as doth the vine,

                        twiggy and wooden,

                        hold up grapes

                        like eyeballs,

                        as many angels

                        dance on the head of a pin.

                        God does not need too much wire to keep Him there,

                        just a thin vein,

                        with blood pushing back and forth in it,

                        and some love.

                        As it has been said:

                        Love and a cough cannot be concealed.

                        Even a small cough.

                        Even a small love.

                        So if you have only a thin wire,

                        god does not mind.

                        He will enter your hands

                        as easily as ten cents used to bring forth a Coke.

            Throughout our lifetime, we have opportunities to explore that connection, that small wire.  Sometimes the choice is ours.  We may read and study, go to church, pray.  But it is also those around us who bring God to our mind through their words and actions.  The more often we are reminded about the God in our lives, the more likely it is that He will become the God of our lives.

            In a time when we are required to keep our distance from each other in order to protect ourselves and each other, we might be challenged to feel connected to each other.  Over the past few weeks, I’ve read many articles about how to survive this time of social distancing and one of the things that always comes up is the importance of maintaining our connections.  We are encouraged to make use of all the technology at hand to stay in electronic touch, but to keep connected.  The more we virtually connect with each other, the healthier we will be in body, mind, and heart.

            The same holds true with our connection with God. If we do not maintain our connection with Him, something profound in us will be lost.  John uses the analogy of the vine and branches to help us understand the importance of being connected: “I am the Vine, you are the branches. When you’re joined with me and I with you, the relation intimate and organic, the harvest is sure to be abundant. Separated, you can’t produce a thing. Anyone who separates from me is deadwood, gathered up and thrown on the bonfire. But if you make yourselves at home with me and my words are at home in you, you can be sure that whatever you ask will be listened to and acted upon.”  (John 5:5-8, MSG)  None of us is an island entire of itself, no matter how much it may seem that way at the moment.  Now more than ever, we cannot leave our connectivity to chance. Let’s consciously reach out through whatever means we can to stay connected—to each other, and to God.

Burdens and Shoulders

             There's an old Jewish proverb that says "God gives burdens; also shoulders."  Five words offering paradoxical truths about God; five words offering an emphatic definition of God.

            "God gives burdens."  Taken alone, these three words could very well make a person want to run away from God rather than stay with Him.  And many, looking at their own lives—or the world around them right now—might even blame God for allowing tribulation to fall upon them.  They look so long at their troubles, or the troubles of the world, that before they realize it, they can see nothing else but an unjust, merciless God and a world no longer fit to exist in.

It's a good thing the proverb doesn't stop there.  Instead, it goes on.  "God gives burdens; also shoulders."  The shoulders He has given us are the shoulders of our family members and friends, our colleagues and mentors, our teachers and pastors, our church family—and of God Himself.  They are the shoulders we see ahead of us as we listen and learn with—and from—each other.  They are the shoulders we sense behind us as we listen and learn with our families and friends.  They are the shoulders we feel next to us as we listen and learn with our colleagues and fellow church members.  And they are the shoulders we feel under us, lifting us up as we listen and learn from the still small voice which comforts us:

            “Are you tired?  Worn out?  Burned out on religion [or social distancing]?  Come to me.  Get away with me and you’ll recover your life.  I’ll show you how I do it.  Learn the unforced rhythms of grace.  I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you.  Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.”  Or as the KJV more familiarly puts it, “For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light." Matthew 11:28

            Isn't that a beautiful promise?  I am grateful every day that God has provided so wondrously for all of our needs.  For the past couple of weeks I’ve been thinking about the tremendous burdens so many are carrying right now during this pandemic.  There are the national, state, and local leaders.  There are the scores of health care workers on every level trying to heal and comfort those who are sick or who have lost loved ones.  There are all the service providers who are keeping the country going as much as possible.  There are the teachers and pastors, trying to educate and minister from a distance.  There are the parents and other family members trying to keep things sane and together at home.  And there are some (many, globally) who are mourning the loss of loved ones and friends.

            On the surface, it may seem that we are not managing very well.  Every day the deadly numbers rise.  It is overwhelming.  It is easy to feel alone when we are at such a distance from most, if not all, of the people we usually spend time with.  And yet, we are not alone.   Even at a physical distance, there are those shoulders that are there for us, lifting us up, praying for us, helping us manage and carry our burdens.  That knowledge should make it easier to sleep at night, make the thought of this and every other day bearable, even though they are still difficult.   

            Paul tells us in Galatians 6:2 that we are to bear one another's burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ—the law of love—of caring for your brother, your sister.  But while you are being there—being a shoulder—for someone else, let God be there—be a shoulder—for you, and let Him work with you.  The Psalmist tells us to give Him all our cares (Ps. 55:22).  And Peter says to "Cast all your anxieties on Him, for He cares for you." (1 Peter 5:7)

            So.  God gives burdens.  But also shoulders.  You see, without the last half of the proverb—without the power of God working in our lives—we can do nothing.  Our burdens would so weigh us down that we would not be able to move.  But with those shoulders, both human and divine, there is power.  Power to be and to do.  Power to change and be changed. 

Yes, God gives us burdens.  But also shoulders.

In Spite of Everything

Another poem written at the Heinemann Boothbay Literacy Retreat, June 25, 2013.  It's a "found" poem based on a line from an Edward Hirsch poem: "In Spite of Everything, the Stars."

In spite of everything, God
is still in charge.
I mean--He's there.
He sees all, knows all.
He's engaged in a great war
testing whether mercy
trumps justice.

In spite of everything, I
don't blame Him.
Not for wars, pestilence,
Hate, loss.
All the things that bring down
happiness.
And life.

In spite of everything, He
loves us.
this I know.
I've seen it.
Heard it.
Felt it.
Deep in the marrow
of my bones.

In spite of everything, Love
will triumph over evil.
The lame will walk,
the blind will see.
And we.
Shall.
All.
Be.
Changed.
In spite of everything.

Joy Comes in the Morning

"Weeping endures for the night, but joy comes in the morning." Psalm 30:5 (last part).  So many of my family members and friends have endured deep, shattering loss lately.  My heart hurts for them as they navigate the aftermath that can threaten to overwhelm at any given moment.  This text can be taken literally and figuratively.  The night and the morning can mean the here and now, or it can mean the here and the hereafter.

When my father passed away, the only consolation was the morning--not the next morning, the morning after, but the Resurrection morning, the Reunion morning.  Several of the losses have been parents or siblings.  This morning's was a long ago friend who bravely fought cancer for a few decades but has finally taken a rest from her labors and is awaiting that great getting up morning.

Loss can overwhelm us if we have nothing more to look forward to.  Loss can all but take us down without the great power of Salvation.  Maya Angelou reminds us that "we need joy as we need air.  We need love as we need water."  Thank God that His Love can overcome all and bring Joy in the morning--if not tomorrow, then certainly on the Resurrection Morning.