A Different Kind of Rainbow

I finished My Grandfather’s Blessings by Naomi Remmen, last night. What a blessed book. If she isn’t a believer, Jesus, she ought to be. Lead her, Spirit, to the Son; let her be one of the sheep from a different fold who come to know you, Father.


She tagged an incubus thought that I had yet to birth: “Perhaps real wisdom lies in not seeking answers at all. Any answer we find will not be true for long. An answer is a place where we can fall asleep as life moves past us to its next question. After all these years I have begun to wonder if the secret of living well is not in having all the answers but in pursuing unanswerable questions in good company.” P 338.

She augments with the idea that as we court relationship with Mystery our need for smaller certainties fades. This need for sure certainties is replaced with an ongoing sense of awe, wonder, and growing gratitude to the One whose ways are as far above our ways as the heavens are above the earth.

Another thought she gave me as a jewel when the sun hits it: “fear is the friction in all transitions.” One role I have had and will have again is that of emotional WD-40. A little squirt here and there acts as lock-ease for the soul in motion from one small certainty to something else.

And another little story of a boy who had found a rainbow trout washed up from the cresting river into what was then a shrinking draining ditch. The trout was struggling to survive. The boy was heartbroken. He picked the trout up and rushed it back into the river. He remembered later, on his dying bed as an old man, the shiver of rainbow delight as the trout realized once again it was part of the river. As he too was soon to be.

One final snippet. When the Concorde was traveling at Mach 2, 1,350 mph, it used multiple computers to keep it on course. When traveling at such a high speed human reaction time was far too slow a corrective. So one computer was constantly jiggling the other back on course. They made little whirring noises as they corrected each other back and forth. One attentive passenger, who had been given a tour of the cockpit on the Concorde’s maiden voyage, asked, “what per cent of the time is the plane off course?” The pilot replied, “about 99% of the time. However we will arrive in Paris from New York at our projected time, plus or minus 60 seconds.”

The feedback systems between computers aren’t frictioned with the need to be right. They accept correction without quarreling. Could two pilots correct each other thousands of times in one flight without overheating defensiveness and argumentation? Could I stand to be wrong 99% of the time without losing courage? Lord, give me the humility to be corrected, adjusted, tuned to your hovering Spirit, moment by moment. Let me recognize when that correction from You comes thru another, or a stubbed toe, or a closed door as readily as through a hunch, word of knowledge, or flashing insight.

Streaming Glories

Another glorious day. Fulfilled promises was a theme as I walked near Troutbeck, a little village outside Windermere. I’ve been working on scripture memory, as I’ve written in the past. One of the chapters I’d tucked away was Deuteronomy 8. One of the verses that made me smile always when I was repeating it, was: “I’m about to bring you into a good land, a land of brooks and rivers, springs and lakes, streams flowing out of the hills and into the valleys…” And another chapter, more famous, Psalm 23, “he makes me lie down in green pastures….” That’s because I’m so daggum stubborn that I won’t lie down on my own accord; so He has to make me. God be blessed, even as he blessed me with streaming trails of glory flowing among resting sheep.

Found in the Mist

             The Lord seems to be speaking to me lately, as I walk the fells, of humility and obscurity; letting that be okay. He uses just plain people, not hifaluting folks. So today the moors, the fog, the drizzle, the enveloping woods, grazing sheep, and swirling mist were all perfect. I folded right in and was lost from sight immediately, if not sooner.


Here in the Lakes you are surrounded by invincible evidence of a Living Artist at work. In the face of such autumn audacities towering over me, crunching underfoot, thundering beside me in the river and falls, misting my lips as I move through the patchy fog—how can I be other than grateful to be a tiny little part of His Story unfolding with each breath? I was reading a sermon by my friend, Gary Stubblefield, today. He spoke of plagiarism as being ingratitude & theft of intellectual property. The assertion of self sufficiency is cosmic ingratitude & theft of God’s claim on the entire universe. Humility is the opposite of self sufficiency. It’s a grateful fear of God, a jubilant reverence that revels in God’s stunning goodness toward us. It’s been a good day. No, scratch that. A glorious day.

What Do You See?

        We’re finding out that being a foreigner in a strange land isn’t always easy. We wanted to get a cell phone, for example. We can’t do that without a bank account. We can’t get a bank account without a permanent address. We can’t get a permanent address without a national identity card or a bank account. And so it goes. There are ways and means to do all of that, but it requires flexibility, patience, persistence, and good humor. It’s humbling.


           We finally get a temporary bank account, a beginner account given to students who have just arrived in the country. We can apply for a regular upgrade to entry bank account in a year. What does the Lord require of you, oh man, but to do justly, love mercy, walk humbly… (Micah 9:6).

           As we walk out of the bank we look up to the sky and see this rainbow over the local cancer treatment center. A gentle reminder was spoken to our spirits in that moment: "Live under my grace, my promise, before you go further about the work of treating soul cancer". We, in that moment, had eyes to see. When we pointed out the rainbow to passers-by, excited, they mostly shrugged it off: “Rains so much here, it’s a common sight.” Just like everyday bushes in the desert when Moses was going about his everyday business, but he was given eyes to see the flames and know he was on holy ground. He looked. With eyes of faith, open wide. So what about me, and thee?

The Crossroads of Beauty and Danger

October 16, 2010

Today we drove south to Burnside Park here in Bowness-on-Windermere. The beauty around each corner kept cutting new traces of wonder in our soul-scapes. We were amazed and grateful at God’s creativity in this part of the world. Here is a pix of Bethyl at a major local crossroads. Also one of more local scenery, with a close up of the two of us, for your eyes to feast upon.

Last night was a little different sort of soul-scrape, however. We were returning from a longish trip on the motorways. It was dark, rainy, and I was tired. The dual carriageway was flipping back and forth to single carriageway. Windscreen wipers were slapping the rain away, streaking the glass. I missed my signage to the left and suddenly was face to face with another car, each of us doing 60+ mph.  I jagged left, crossed a median strip, and jigged back to my correct lane. Near miss. Thank you, Lord, for safety in the midst of that close call! You’ve promised to keep us safe as we travel across kingdoms; we claimed that promise here in the United Kingdom.

GPS

O satisfy us, Vance and Bethyl Joy, with Your mercy and loving-kindness in the morning (now, before we are older), that we may rejoice and be glad all our days. Psalm 90:14


We’ve been gently and persistently wakened in the morning by the birds outside our windows—welcoming us to the Ullswater area, a northern part of The Lake District. We’ve heard we are experiencing of sun and warm weather that “shouldn’t be so.” We thank God for His “most warm welcome!” Teach us to number our days that we may get us a heart of wisdom Psalm 90:12. Father, teach me today to consciously choose to receive the beauty and delightfulness and favor of the Lord our God upon us; confirm and establish the work of our hands-yes, the work of our hands, confirm and establish it. Psalm 90:17.

We’ve given these days into His will—His GPS (God’s Perfect Scheme)! When we are off course, the blue bubble is not on the purple line. Vance’s I-Phone GPS has worked poorly for several weeks—and it proved no different in the UK. Frustrating ourselves in an unsuccessful attempt to locate a car dealer just after leaving the Manchester Airport, we were lost. We opted to set that seemingly impetuous agenda aside, get on the motorway and head north to The Lake District. The GPS worked well in our recalibrated direction—and we realized our well-thought out agenda was not HIS timing.

… my head spins with the “leaving” but also the clarity that “what door/window God opens…no one can shut!” “And, what door/window God closes…no one can open!” We are walking these unmarked paths with our invisible Savior on an invisible path of faith – and watching the visible respond to His will. I’m overwhelmed with His intentional Presence. Grateful that when He shuts the door, “safe am I…safe am I in the hollow of His Hand…”

Unmasking His Glory

Lovely flights yesterday from Chicago through Heathrow to Manchester, along with a delightful drive north to Penrith, an ancient town on the northern outskirts of the Lake District, and from there to Lothwaite B&B out in the gows and fells of the civil world’s fringes. A gentle Danish couple, Jim and Tina, Mt Kili ex-guides from Tanzania, run this place with their two small daughters. We collapsed last night and did three things: slept, slept, and slept. All in that order. And now, this morning, browsed, bathed, and breakfasted.

I was aware of grieving the past lettings-go in these quiet moments. A solemn still-quiet settled in my spirit. An empty space preparing me to know it when I’ve deleted my completeds and face an empty slate. One of my readings I’ll share with you, but only so much as would be good for you:

“Unless we learn to grieve, we may need to live life at a distance in order to protect ourselves from pain. We may not be able to risk having anything that really matters to us or allow ourselves to be touched, oto be intimate, to care or be cared about. Untouched, we will suffer anyway. We just will not be transformed by our suffering. Grieving may be one of the most fundamental of life skills. It is the way that the heart can heal from loss and go on to love again and grow wise. If it were up to me, it would be taught in kindergarten, right up there with taking turns and sharing.” My Grandfather’s Blessings, p 145.

Later in this day: I’ve also enjoyed today the unmasking of God’s glory all about us as walked thru “the good land that I’ve brought you into, a land of brooks and rivers, springs and lakes, streams running out of the hills and down through the valleys…” Deut 8. He put his stunning artistry on display, encouraging us also to play, inviting our attention to stay—on Him. And so we did throughout this day, our first full day of Sabbatical. We’re counting on this being a preview of coming attractions, as we too let down, unmask, and become more clearly created in His image.   Below is a woolly look at a close to the ground part of us.

In this regard I was reading last night of a little girl who, in kindergarten, spent the day making Halloween masks with her fellow classmates. When her mother came to pick her up, she saw her mom looking in vain to find her, even though she was just right before her eyes. She burst into tears, took off her mask, and ran to her parent. Her mom consoled her child. But the child said, “Mommy, I knew who I was behind my mask; why didn’t you?” I wondered, how much do I know of me and thee, each of us securely tucked behind the masks of our own making? Lord, unmask your glory in me, and we, as you did with your more pliant creation of sheep, streams, and silvans. Amen.

Vance and Bethyl's new look