The Prayer-Seeker

Along the aisle where prayer was made,

A woman, all in black arrayed,

Close-veiled, between the kneeling host,

With gliding motion of a ghost,

Passed to the desk, and laid thereon

A scroll which bore these words alone,

Pray for me!

Back from the place of worshipping

She glided like a guilty thing:

The rustle of her draperies stirred

By hurrying feet, alone was read,

As out into the dark she sped:

Pray for me!

Back to the night from whence she came,

To unimagined grief or shame!

Across the threshold of that door

None knew the burden that she bore;

Alone she left the written scroll,

The legend of a troubled soul, ---

Pray for me!

Glide on, poor ghost of woe or sin!

Thou leav’st a common need within;

Each bears, like thee, some nameless weight,

Some misery inarticulate,

Some secret sin, some shrouded dread,

Some household sorrow all unsaid.

Pray for us!

Pass on! The type of all thou art,

Sad witness to the common heart!

With face in veil and seal on lip,

In mute and strange companionship,

Like thee we wander to and fro,

Dumbly imploring as we go:

Pray for us!

Ah, who shall pray, since he who pleads

Our want perchance hath greater needs?

Yet they who make their loss the gain

Of others shall not ask in vain,

And Heaven bends low to hear the prayer

Of love from lips of self-despair:

Pray for us!

In vain remorse and fear and hate

Beat with bruised hands against a fate

Whose walls of iron only move

And open to the touch of love.

He only feels his burdens fall

Who, taught by suffering, pities all.

Pray for us!

He prayeth best who leaves unguessed

The mystery of another’s breast.

Why cheeks grow pale, why eyes o’erflow,

Or heads are white, thou need’st not know.

Enough to note by many a sign

That every heart hath needs like thine.

Pray for us!

Poem by John Greenleaf Whittier, photo by Manuel Libres Librodo Jr.

Anger

At the center the most common problem we deal with is the men's anger. When you have been abusing drugs and alcohol for years you lose the respect of everyone and the easiest way to get compliance is with your anger because you have lost the power of love and respect. Certainly all men struggle to some degree with anger issues and I found this piece filled with good information and warning.

"It does no good to get angry. Some sins have a seeming compensation or apology, a present gratification of some sort, but anger has none. A man feels no better for it. It is really a torment, and when the storm of passion has cleared away, it leaves one to see that he has been a fool. And he has made himself a fool in the eyes of others too.

Sinful anger, when it becomes strong, is called wrath; when it makes outrages, it is fury; when it becomes fixed, it is termed hatred; and when it intends to injure any one, it is called malice. All these wicked passions spring from anger.

The continuance and frequent fits of anger produce an evil habit of the soul, a propensity to be angry, which oftentimes ends in choler, bitterness, and morosity;

When the mind becomes ulcerated, peevish, and fretting, and like a thin, weak plate of iron, receives impressions, and is wounded by the least occurrence.

Anger is such a headstrong and impetuous passion, that the ancients call it a short madness; and indeed there is no difference between an angry man and a madman while the fit continues, because both are void of reason and blind for the moment. It is a disease that, while it prevails, is no less dangerous than deforming to us; it swells the face, it agitates the body, and inflames the blood; and as the evil spirit mentioned in the Gospel threw the possessed into fire or water, so it casts us into all kinds of danger.

“There is not in nature a thing that

Makes man so deformed, so beastly

As does uncontrolled anger.” John Webster

It too often ruins or subverts whole families, towns, cities and kingdoms. It is a vice that very few can conceal; and if it does not betray itself by such external signs as paleness and trembling of the limbs, it is more violent within, and by gnawing in the heart injures the body and the mind very much.

No man is expected to live so free of passion as not so show some resentment; and it is rather stoical stupidity than virtue, to do otherwise. Anger may glance into the breast of a wise man for a moment, but it comes to rest in the bosom of fools.

“Wise anger is like fire from the flint;

There is a great ado to bring it out;

And when it does come,

It is out again immediately.” Matthew Henry

Fight hard against a hasty temper. Anger will come, but resist it strongly. A spark may set a house on fire. A fit of passion may give you cause to mourn all the days of your life. Never revenge an injury. If you are aware of being in a passion, keep your mouth shut, for words increase it. Dr. Fuller used to say that the heat of passion makes our souls crack, and the devil creeps in at the crevices. Anger is a passion the most criminal and destructive of all the passions;

The only passion that not only bears the appearance of insanity, but often produces the wildest form of madness. It is difficult, indeed, sometimes to mark the line that distinguishes the bursts of rage from the bursts of a mad frenzy; so similar are its movements, and too often equally similar are its actions.

What crime has not been committed in the passion and outbursts of anger? Has not the friend murdered his friend? The son massacred his parent? The creature blasphemed his Creator? When, indeed, the nature of this passion is considered, what crime may it not commit? Is it not the storm of the human mind, which wrecks every better affection – wrecks reason and conscience; and, as a ship driven without helm or compass before the rushing gale, it not the mind born away, without guide or government, by the tempest of unbounded rage?

A passionate temper renders a man unfit for advice, deprives him of his reason, robs him of all that is either great or noble in his nature; it makes him unfit for conversation, destroys friendships, changes justice into cruelty, and turns all order into confusion. One angry word sometimes raises a storm that time itself cannot calm. There is many a man whose tongue might govern multitudes, if he could only govern his tongue. He is the man of power who controls the storms and tempests of his mind. But he that will be angry for anything, will be angry for nothing. If we do not subdue our anger it will subdue us. Our passions are like the seas, agitated by the winds; and as God has set bounds to these, so should we to those – so far shalt thou go, and no farther.

Angry and choleric men are as ungrateful and unsociable as thunder and lightning, being in themselves all storm and tempests; but quiet and easy natures are like fair weather, welcome to all, and acceptable to all men; they gather together what the other disperses, and reconcile all whom the other pushes away; as they have good will and the good wishes of all other men, so they have the full possession of themselves, have all their own thoughts at peace, and enjoy quiet and ease in their own fortunes, how little so ever it may be.

But how is it with the angry man, and who thinks well of an ill-natured, churlish man, who has to be approached in the most guarded and cautious way?

Who wants him for a neighbor, or a partner in business?

He keeps all those around him in nearly the same state of mind as if they were living next door to a hornet’s nest or a rabid animal.

And how will the angry man be in business. What if business is perplexing and everything is contrary! Will a fit of passion make the wind calm, the ground productive, the market more favorable? Will bad temper draw customers, pay notes, and make creditors better natured? If men, animals, or senseless matter cause trouble, will getting “mad” help matters? Will it make men more subservient, brutes more docile, wood and stone easier to work with?

Any angry man adds nothing to the welfare of society. He may do some good, but more hurt. Heated passion makes him a firebrand, and it is a wonder that he does not kindle flames of discord on every hand.

The disadvantages arising from anger, no matter what the circumstances, should prove a remedy for the complaint. In moments of cool reflection, the man who indulges it, views with deep regret the desolations produced by a summer storm of angry passion. Friendship, domestic happiness, self-respect, the esteem of others, and sometimes property, are swept away by a whirlwind; perhaps a tornado of anger. I have more than once seen the furniture of a house in a mass of ruin, the work of an angry moment. I have seen anger make wives unhappy and cower in fear, children shake and cry out in fear of the very one they should run to for safety, all harmony lost, and the entire neighbor hood disturbed.

Anger, like too much wine, hides us from ourselves, but exposes us to others.

Some people seem to live in a perpetual storm; calm weather can never be reckoned upon when in their company. Suddenly, when you least expect it, without any adequate reason, and almost without any reason at all, the sky becomes black, and the wind rises, and there is growling thunder and pelting rain. You can hardly tell where the tempest came from. A simple accident by a child, a misunderstanding which a moments calm thought would have terminated, a chance word which meant no evil, a trifling difficulty which good sense might have removed at once, a slight disappointment which a cheerful heart would have borne with a smile, brings on earthquakes and hurricanes.

To be angry about trifles is low and childish; to rage and be furious is brutish; and to maintain perpetual wrath is akin to the practice and temper of devils.

Man was born to reason, to reflection, and to do all things quietly and in order. Anger takes from him this ability, transforms his manship into childish petulance, his reasoning powers into brute instinct. Consider, then, how much more you often suffer from your anger than from those things for which you are angry.

And where does it all end? More often than not, the angry man ends up alone.

Spouse gone, children lost, home shattered, friends driven off, parents left in grief.

Remember; don’t be angry that you cannot make others as you wish them to be, since you cannot make yourself what you wish to be."

The Royal Path of Life - Photo by Tony Hnojcik

Memorial Day

"We were no sooner come to the Temple Stairs, but we were surrounded with a crowd of watermen, offering us their respective services. Sir Rodger, after having looked about him very attentively, spied one with a wooden leg, and immediately gave him orders to get his boat ready. As we were walking towards it, “you must know,” says Sir Roger, “I never make use of anybody to row me, that has not either lost a leg or arm. I would rather bate him a few strokes of his oar than not employ an honest man that has been wounded in the Queen’s service. If I was a lord or a bishop, and kept a barge, I would not put a fellow in my livery that had not a wooden leg.”

Joseph Addison

Joseph Addison addresses the need for exercise in this little piece and quotes a great poem by Dryden –

“For my own part I intend to hunt twice a week during my stay with Sir Rodger; and shall prescribe the moderate use of this exercise to all my country friends, as the best kind of physic for mending a bad constitution, and preserving a good one. I cannot do this better, than in the following lines out of Mr. Dryden: --

The first physicians by debauch were made;

Excess began, and sloth sustained the trade.

By chase our long-lived fathers earned their food;

Toil strung the nerves, and purified the blood;

But we their sons, a pamper’d race of men

Are dwindled down to threescore years and ten.

Better to hunt in fields for health unbought

Than fee the doctor for a nauseous draught.

The wise for cure on exercise depend:

God never made His work for man to mend.

Picture by Teuku Jody Zulkarnaen

Respect your elders

“It happened in Athens, during a public representation of some play exhibited in honor of the commonwealth, that an old gentle man came too late for a seat suitable to his age and quality. Many of the young gentlemen, who observed the difficulty and confusion he was in, made signs to him that they would accommodate him if he came where they sat. The good man bustled through the crowd accordingly; but when he came to the seats to which he was invited, the jest was to sit close and expose him, as he stood, out of countenance, to the whole audience. The frolic went round all the Athenian benches. But on those occasions there were also particular places assigned for foreigners. When the good man skulked towards the boxes appointed for the Lacedaemonians, that honest people, more virtuous than polite, rose up all to a man, and with the greatest respect received him among them. The Athenians, being suddenly touched with a sense of the Spartan virtue and their own degeneracy, gave a thunder of applause; and the old man cried out, ‘The Athenians understand what is good, but the Lacedaemonians practice it.’”

This made me reflect that often we Christians think the world needs a counselor when in reality they need an example.

Joseph Addison, photo by Ian

"I advise you not to be troubled by what you hear of other folk's experience, but keep close to the written Word, where you will meet with much to encourage you though you often feel yourself weary and heavy laden. For my own part, I like that path best which is well beaten by the footsteps of the flock, though it is not always pleasant and strewed with flowers. In our way, we find some hills, from whence we can cheerfully look about us; but we meet with deep valleys likewise, and seldom travel long upon even ground." John Newton

I like this practical piece of advice, and have found it so in my life. There have been times when I sought after a deeper more mystical relationship with God and it may be I should have sought it more instead of leaving off for more common ground; but, be that as it may, I have found the well beaten path the safest ground and God has not been hindered by my choice, I find myself atop hills and mountains even though my destination was to walk on level ground.

Photo from the Internet

"Last week we had a lion in town. I went to see him. He was wonderfully tame; as familiar with his keeper, as docile and obedient as a spaniel. Yet the man told me he had his surly fits when they dared not touch him. No looking-glass could express my face more justly than this lion did my heart. I could trace every feature, as wild and fierce by nature, yea, much more so; but grace has in some measure tamed me; I know and love my Keeper and sometimes watch His looks that I may learn His will. But, oh! I have my surly fits too; seasons when I relapse into the savage again, as though I had forgotten all."

John Newton - Photo by Carlos Barriuso Amo

I was reading a chapter in "Plain Living and High Thinking" on 'what to talk about'.

It is a practical chapter and in it I found this poem by Cowper that encourages us as are minds are busy looking to and fro, to gather the good and to share it.

" The mind, dispatched upon her busy toil,

should range where Providence has blessed the soil;

Visiting every flower with labor meet,

and gathering all her treasures, sweet by sweet,

she should imbue the tongue with what she sips,

and shed the balmy blessing on the lips,

that good diffused may more abundant grow,

and speech may praise the Power that bids it flow."

Now regarding the photo, this is a picture of my grandson Nic while he was on his first missionary journey to visit a refugee camp on the Thai/Burma border. Surely this is soil blessed by Providence and the memory of this treasure is "sweet by sweet"; and wouldn't you know the Lord would bring along this delightful helpmate for his first journey.

God attends to all the details.

"The day arrives, the moment wished and feared;

The child is born, by many a pang endeared,

and now the mother's ear has caught the cry;

O grant the cherub to her asking eye!

He comes -- she clasps him. To her bosom pressed,

He drinks the balm of life, and drops to rest.

Her by her smile how soon the stranger knows;

How soon by his the glad discovery shows!

As to her lips she lifts the lovely boy,

what answering looks of sympathy and joy!

he walks, he speaks. In many a broken word

His wants, his wishes, and his griefs are heard.

And ever, ever to her lap he flies,

when rosy sleep comes on with sweet surprise.

Locked in her arms, his arms across her flung

(that name most dear forever on his tongue)

as with soft accents round her neck he clings,

and, cheek to cheek, her lulling song she sings,

how blest to feel the beatings of his heart,

breathe his sweet breath, and kiss for kiss impart.

Watch o'er his slumbers like the brooding dove,

and, if she can, exhaust a mother's love."

I ran across this piece on "Human Life", and thought this part on a mother's love captures it like few things I've ever read. So sweet, so tender. God's richest gift.

Samuel Rogers, photo by Tom Florres Sr.

I ran across this photo by Andre Torres and just had to share it. Man! the colors and composition of this photo just jump out. Oh to take a photo like this! These two ladies are from Viet Nam. Simply electric.

As Christians, we lose our way many times and at many seasons. The following piece by Samuel Johnson spells out the process as well as I've ever heard it. If you have missed your mark may this encourage you.

“Son,” said the hermit, “let the errors and follies, the dangers and escapes of this day sink deep into thy heart. Remember, my son, that human life is the journey of a day. We rise in the morning of youth, full of vigor, and full of expectation; we set forward with spirit and hope, with gayety and with diligence, and travel on a while in the straight road of piety towards the mansions of rest. In a short time we remit our fervor, and endeavor to find some mitigation of our duty, and some more easy means of obtaining the same end. We then relax our vigor, and resolve no longer to be terrified with crimes at a distance, but rely upon our own constancy, and venture to approach what we resolved never to touch. We thus enter the bowers of ease, and repose in the shades of security. Here the heart softens, and vigilance subsides; we are then willing to enquire whether another advance cannot be made, and whether we may not, at least, turn our eyes upon the gardens of pleasure. We approach them with scruple and hesitation; we enter them, but enter timorous and trembling; and always hope to pass through them without losing the road of virtue, which we, for a while, keep in our sight, and to which we propose to return. But temptation succeeds temptation, and one compliance prepares us for another; we in time lose the happiness of innocence, and solace our disquiet with sensual gratifications. By degrees we let fall the remembrance of our original intention, and quit the only adequate object of rational desire. We entangle ourselves in business, immerge ourselves in luxury, and rove through the labyrinths of inconstancy, till the darkness of old age begins to invade us, and disease and anxiety obstruct our way. We then look back upon our lives with horror, with sorrow, with repentance; and wish, but too often vainly wish, that we had not forsaken the ways of virtue. Happy are they, my son, who shall learn from the example not to despair but shall remember, that though the day is past, and their strength is wasted, there yet remains one effort to be made; that reformation is never hopeless, nor sincere endeavors every unassisted; that the wanderer may at length return after all his errors; and that he who implores strength and courage from above, shall find danger and difficulty give way before him. Go now, my son, to thy repose; commit thyself to the care of Omnipotence; and when the morning calls again to toil, begin anew thy journey and thy life.”

Samuel Johnson, photo by Yiannis G.

Contrasts

Photo by John Crosley

In the last week the scripture 2Cor. 1:5 “For just as the sufferings of Christ are ours in abundance, so also our comfort is abundant through Christ”, has captured my attention. I began to ponder, ‘what are the sufferings of Christ today?’. During His earthly ministry he suffered many ways, physically and emotionally, but today the physical sufferings have ceased, so as I began to consider what might His sufferings be today and what does it mean to have the abundant sufferings of Christ today.

We know there are thousands living in countries where faith in Christ is considered illegal and people suffer, in some cases brutally, for Christ. Surely this is to share in the sufferings of Christ. But for those where no persecution exists, is there another application? I think there is, and I think it applies to the emotional and spiritual suffering that Christ and all of heaven suffers today as a result of sin; wars, oppression, greed, addictions, poverty and each of us can add to the list of evils that pervade our cultures. As I watched “Precious” the other night I was keenly aware that the emotions of compassion and sorrow were in this day the “sufferings of Christ”, rising up in me. Just like two thousand years ago when Jesus would rescue Israel by gathering them under His wings; and as He wept over Jerusalem, these sufferings go on in His heart today and we are to share in those sufferings. We may never be persecuted for our faith but we shall suffer for all those in the bonds of wickedness if we truly share in the sufferings of Christ.

So as 2Cor. 1:7 says that the believers in Corinth shared in Paul’s sufferings, we are today to share the sufferings of Christ, so also we are sharers of His comfort.”

To sum up, like the old hymn “In The Garden” states ---”I’d stay in the garden with Him, tho the night around me be falling; but He bids me go, thru the voice of woe, His voice to me is calling.” Yes, His voice is calling through the voice of woe, and I think this is His suffering today, and we are to share in it.

Photo by Maciej Dakowicz

I watched the movie “Precious” last night. It is the story of extreme abuse, the world that few live in but a reality for some that most of us cannot even imagine. The story is heart wrenching and defies description. When watching it is hard to imagine such parental madness but a percentage of the men at the center come out of this mad distortion of human behavior. At one point a warm “peace-maker”, pictured below, speaks of the power of love only to be rebuked by the victim quoting the evils that have come to her through those that “love” her. It was a powerful and moving show with acting almost too real and graphic. I found myself yearning throughout much of the movie just to reach out and hold the victim, somehow to rescue her from her world of perversity. I think it is an adult movie that every adult Christian should see; it’s a peek into the sin crazed laboratory where drug abuse, violence, suicide and all manner of evils are birthed and conjured.

In the midst of what seems to be the overcoming power of naked evil, the movie is filled with subtleties where goodness and love begin to take root and feeble attempts to imitate them begin. To watch this movie is to share in "the sufferings of Christ" as He and all of heaven suffer as they watch this dramatic battle of good and evil play out. Watching this white field that desperately needs workers of love to come and rescue. Sadly the workers are few but even the little that is portrayed, and that by flawed servants, takes root.

Matt and Eric, I think you will both see this as a learning movie and come away with insights helpful in the work you do and have done.

Too disturbing for those under 18 in my opinion.

Pictures from the Internet

I have been considering helping out in Sunday school again so I sat in today to see if there is a way to serve. It has been ten years since I have taught Sunday school and my body feels it.

So I wanted to watch today and after introductions to the class leader I did so and waited to see if the Lord would give me a clear indication. The first half all the children 4^th grade and under met together for review of last weeks lesson, a game tied in to the lesson and a video presentation of the new lesson. After that the children were split into graded classes and I chose third grade to continue my observation. There were about eight children and the class leader questioned them on the lesson and with all the third grade enthusiasm displayed, she finished the lesson. Then we went to play a game something like “Red Light Green Light”. One of the girls there, about seven years old named Claire, faced some mental and physical challenges; she couldn’t walk but she could crawl about with great speed and freedom. Her mental ability was about that of a five year old. She was a little over enthusiastic in all she said and did but she began to charm me. When we prepared for the game I decided to sit by her and help her to cross the line when her number was called so she wouldn't be last in each competition. As the game went on I thoroughly enjoyed helping her try and win; and we held our own.

I realized without my help she wouldn't have been able to compete, but with my help she may have even had an edge. At one point during the play she gave me a big hug and whispered, “I love you”. Well, need I say at that point I was all in.

Christ spoke to me through that tender little heart as clearly as if He stood before me and were to nod and approving, “Yes”.

Photo from the Internet

I read a challenging excerpt from Carlyle’s “Sartar Resartus.” Don’t ask me what that means, but the piece was titled “Who Am I?” and he poses many interesting and impossible questions. The lines that intrigued me were prefaced by the following-

“but the reflex of our own inward force, the “phantasy of our dream; or what the earth-spirit in Faust names it, the living visible garment of God.

Now what he meant by this “living visible garment of God” I’m not sure, but I think he means something like Jesus with flesh on it or the true way we represent God by our actions in the world. The following poem illustrates this……I think.

“In Being’s floods, in Action’s storm,

I walk and work, above, beneath,

Work and weave in endless motion!

Birth and Death,

An infinite ocean;

A seizing and giving

The fire of the living;

‘Tis thus at the roaring loom of time I ply,

And weave for God the garment thou seest Him by.’

So I interpret this poem to mean that in floods and active storms of life, where I carry out my continual work and life of giving and receiving, applying what I learn of man and God, I weave for others to see what I consider to be a life of Christ likeness. Christ likeness being “the garment thou seest Him by.”

That’s my take on it.

Photo taken from the Internet

I chose this picture of great expectation to set the stage for a description of a brother at the center. He is a late thirties man who has done many things; good and bad. He was successful in business and at one point had a car dealership; he also roamed the streets gang banging dodging bullets when younger; he has served in the church (I think as a youth pastor), and he was in strong man competition where he ultimately broke his back and became addicted to pain meds. Now he is in our program after losing everything material, but still has his marriage in tact.

So, what does the picture above have to do with this brother? I’ll tell you; if you were to have the chance to meet him, he would be of the mind set that the Holy Spirit had brought you to him and that the Holy Spirit was going to manifest Himself in some way at the meeting. I see him every morning, a mountain of a man, and he is handsome, composed, and friendly with a radio voice as he man’s the center’s phones. I look forward to talking with him because this spirit of anticipation permeates him with each encounter. He is there to do business with God and he has no doubt that each person that walks in the office is an opportunity to see God work. You can’t help but be drawn in by his amiable smile and eager anticipation. To tell you that God rewards his anticipation, words fail to express. Nearly every morning one of us, or both, ends up in tears or leaves with a heart full of God’s presence. He is child-like in his faith and God pours out blessing in return. This brother has truly left his mark on me and represents the scripture that exhorts us to be ready in season and out; he is genuine, low keyed and full of the Holy Spirit that splashes all over the office while he’s there.

What a blessing, what a blessing.

Photo by Vrindaavan Lila

There is a law in physics to the effect that action is equal to reaction. The ball rebounds from the wall with precisely the force with which it was thrown against the wall. And if I approach a man with politeness I usually receive politeness.I get from this world a smile for a smile, a kick for a kick, love for love, and hate for hate.

If I am petulant, unrestful, irritable, unsatisfied, wretched, and bored – I know what the crop will be, and might have expected the harvest when I sowed that seed of self-indulgence, lack of will, moral cowardice, and general selfishness.

If I am lonely, it was I who drove hearts away.

If I am bitter, it was I who skimped the sugar-bowl.

The loving are beloved.

The generous are helped.

The considerate are considered.

The bully by and by is bullied, the smasher smashed.

And the end of the hog is the slaughterhouse.

I like this little piece because I'm always looking for practical quotes to share with the guys at the center. There is such a variety of personalities, but one thing they all have in common, self-absorption. I have to admit that a certain fella came to mind when I read "The bully by and by is bullied, the smasher smashed." And if this piece is true, his end is........well, not good.

Dr. Frank Crane, photo by formalArt

I like this quote by John Newton; he is so free to share his weaknesses and his humble approach to the weaknesses we all share is refreshing. Here he speaks to the folly that fills our minds, even when we are in the most holy circumstances.

"Indeed, all situations and circumstances (supposing them not sinful in themselves, and that we are lawfully placed in them) are nearly alike. In London I am in a crowd, in the country I am sure there is a crowd in me. To what purpose do I boast of retirement, when I am pestered by a legion in every place? How often, when I am what I call alone, may my mind be compared to a puppet-show, a fair, a Newgate, or any of those scenes where folly, noise, and wickedness most abound! On the contrary, sometimes I have enjoyed sweet recollection and composure where I could have hardly expected it. But still, though the power be all of the Lord and we of ourselves can do nothing, it is both our duty and our wisdom to be attentive to the use of appointed means on the one hand, and on the other, watchful against those things we find by experience have a tendency to damp our fervor or to dissipate our spirits."

Painting by Mark Bryant

"There is something about a stringed instrument that makes it more human than all others.

The violin has a soul. The voice of the violoncello is a spirit's cry.

A tone's a tone, of course, just as a man's a man; yet as some men have kingly and prophetic spirits, and some are but little better than animals, so some tones come all surrounded with suggestions, enclosing strange implications, attended by spiritual connotations, drenched with mystery, dripping with the waters of the infinite.

I wonder if it is the catgut? Does this fragment of a dead animal become the medium speaking to us the unknowable secrets of that darkness into which animal-souls go when the body dies?

When I hear a skillful cellist draw his bow across the string, the sound that penetrates me is not like that of a drum or a harp-string, but it is a veritable voice, the voice of one calling across the lake of tears in my heart."

This little essay comes from a book titled "Four Minute Essays" by Dr. Frank Crane.

I found it rummaging around antique stores last week on a trip to the coast. The post below this one comes from the same book. A delightful, thought filled little book, quite a find for six bucks.

Picture by Alexander Kharlamov

There is no way to get the values of the countryside so good as walking. If you have a horse he gets in between you and the glory of the landscape, and if you whiz along the road in an automobile, you had as well, save for the fresh air, be at a moving picture show. Only when you walk do you get the personal, minute, and intimate acquaintance with nature.

It is even so in our intellectual life. When we think along with a political party, a religious sect, a literary cult, or an artistic school, we may be said to be traveling by train through the land of ideas. When we leave all groups and creeds and plunge alone into life’s problems, see and determine things for ourselves, and form our own tastes and persuasions, we may be said to walk.

There are times, perhaps most of the time, when we must perforce go by train; the affairs of society and the state being too complex for individual capacity. We must possibly vote the party ticket, go to church, join the literary crusade, and co-operate in this or that group; but we should reserve the right to go often upon an independent ramble.

“There are men,” writes Hamerton, “whose whole art of living consists in passing from one conventionalism to another, as a traveler changes his train. To them intellectual independence is unintelligible. Why go afoot when you may sit comfortably in a train, a rug around your lazy legs and your head resting softly in a corner?”

When I read this I thought about my friend Soto launching out on a new path alone, "upon an independent ramble." There is a certain degree of fright to it but that is overtaken by the fresh newness of it all and the energy that is generated by discovery and adventure. May he "walk" in green pastures.

I was in my office yesterday morning typing out a quote to share with some of the guys at our daily meeting before work when there was a knock at my door and in came Soto with a brother new to the program. He had been praying with him upstairs because the new fellow was feeling discouraged, then he said, let me take you down to Fred and see if he has a word for you.” So as he entered and asked me I said, “Well imagine that, I’m just typing out that very word”.

Here’s that quote --

“God hath given his laws to rule us, his word to instruct us, his spirit to guide us, his angels to protect us, his ministers to exhort us. His mercies make our weak efforts instrumental to great purposes, as a small herb the remedy of the greatest diseases. He impedes the devil’s rage and although he allows him to walk in solitary places, and yet fetters him that he cannot disturb the sleep of a child; He hath given him mighty power, and yet a young maiden that resists him shall make him flee away; he hath given him a vast knowledge, and yet an ignorant man can confute him with the twelve articles of his creed; He gave him power over the winds, and made him prince of the air, and yet the breath of a holy prayer can drive him as far as the utmost sea….”

Jeremy Taylor, photo from the Internet

The following two posts are taken from a book titled "The Imperial Highway", written in 1881. While working with the guys at the center, even though this book was written over a hundred years ago, I can't help but laugh when I see the same behaviors at the center. Certain men come immediately to mind, whom I will leave unnamed, but the pride and folly of man hasn't changed much with "evolution". Of course I saw nothing of myself in either of the posts...... ;)

"There are many kinds of idle young men. One can be seen almost any day haunting sunny benches or breezy piazzas. The real business of this fellow is to see; his desire, to be seen; and no one fails to see him, -- so gaudily dressed, his hat sitting aslant upon a wilderness of hair like a bird half startled from its nest, and every thread arranged to provoke attention. His is a man of honor; not that he keeps his word, or shrinks from meanness. He defrauds his laundress, his tailor, and his landlord. He drinks and smokes at other men’s expense. He gambles, and swears, and fights, -- when he is too drunk to be afraid; but still he is a man of honor, for he has whiskers, looks fierce, and wears moustaches."

I had to laugh at the line about "hair like a bird half startled".

Photos taken from the Internet

"Another young fellow is rich, has a fine form and manly beauty, and the chief end of his life is to display them. With notable diligence he ransacks the shops for rare and curious fabrics, for costly seals, and chains and rings. A coat poorly fitted is the unpardonable sin of his creed. He meditates upon cravats, employs a profound discrimination in selecting a hat or a vest, and adopts his conclusions upon the tastefulness of a button or a collar, with the deliberation of a statesman.

Thus caparisoned, he saunters in fashionable galleries, or flaunts in stylish equipage, parades the streets with simpering belles, and delights their itching ears with compliments of flattery, or with choice-culled scandal. He is a reader of fiction, if it be not too substantial.

He is as corrupt in imagination as he is refined in manners; he is as selfish in private as he is generous in public; and even what he gives to another, is given for his own sake. He worships where fashion worships, today at the theater, tomorrow at the church, as either exhibits the whitest hand or the most polished actor. A gaudy, active and indolent flower, until summer closes, and frosts sting him, and then sinks down and dies unthought-of , unremembered, and unspeakably wretched."

I thought I had written about one of the most alarming experiences I had at Teen Challenge about three months ago, but apparently I have not. It was a cold rainy day and the guys called me because a man about thirty was standing right outside of our front door barefooted in the rain and cold, and yelling at the cars as they drove by. He continued for some time when I reluctantly decided I needed to go out and see if I could help him; or at least get him to go away and stop running off all my customers. I asked the students to pray for me because he was a tall guy and I could see he was not in his right mind. I cautiously walked up to his side and asked him if he needed any help. He had a vacant look in his eyes, he was terribly thin and his speech was off in many directions but he was willing to come inside where it was warm and I promised to get him some dry socks for his shoes which were sitting on the sidewalk. Once he came inside about six of the brothers and I, circled him and tried to see if we could help. He was wasted on Meth or some other drug and half of what he said made no sense whatsoever. Luckily one of the visiting Pastors was at the center, and old fellow with lots of experience, so I had one of the guys go and get him, pronto! When Pastor Glen came, he and I led the fella to a more private spot in the store where we could sit down and talk. It was as though we were talking with the demon possessed man that Jesus talked with named “Legion; for many demons had entered him.” What was most alarming to me was that his head was filled with scripture, he quoted the Bible, talked about reaching the lost, spoke with boldness and yet he heart was absolutely vacant; nothing of God resided there, the drugs had cast out all that was holy and he was enslaved, bound with chains and shackles.

I noticed some cuts on his arms and asked him if he would mind pulling up his sleeves; he didn’t mind and he exposed cuts and scratches that covered his entire forearms. Hundreds on each arm. I asked him about it but he was oblivious and off telling me a mile a minute, how he goes into the adult book stores and preaches.

I have never felt more helpless and ill-equipped. None of us got anywhere with him and after the director of the center came to speak with him I bowed out feeling useless and disturbed by the horrid drug state that he was in and although I have seen old men who seemed to have lost their minds I have never seen a young man so mentally disturbed. Ultimately he went back out and disappeared down the street.

That was about three months ago and I have thought about that incident from time to time especially when guys are first admitted to the program and many look just horrible; scrawny, dirty, and lost.

As I was sitting in my office on Friday one of the guys brought a young man back to see me. He was a nice looking fella, big smile, bright eyed and bushy tailed about six feet tall and 190 pounds. He asked me if I remembered this man.

I didn’t think so but there was something about him that seemed familiar; turns out it was the same guy that I had tried to help three months ago. What a contrast! I could barely believe it was the same man. He was level headed, gained 40 pounds of muscle, now in a program and free of drugs. It was a miracle, I just couldn’t get over the contrast. I had to ask him, “What was it that caused you to change?”

He gave me a two word answer, “The law”. He then described how he was picked up by the police and put in jail where he could detox and be ministered to by a jail minister and re-dedicated his life back to Christ. It was an amazing transformation and I still can’t get over the change.

Photo by Stephen Oachs

"A man of polite imagination is let into a great many pleasures, that the vulgar are not capable of receiving. He can converse with a picture, and find an agreeable companion in a statue. He meets with a secret refreshment in a description, and often feels a greater satisfaction in the prospect of fields and meadows, than another does in the possession.

It gives him, indeed, a kind of property in everything he sees, and makes the most rude, uncultivated parts of nature administer to his pleasures; so that he looks upon the world, as it were in another light, and discovers in it a multitude of charms, that conceal themselves from the generality of mankind."

I really enjoy Joseph Addison, considered to be the greatest literary mind of his time. This little piece comes from a chapter on imagination and he just wets my appetite and makes me want to reach out and do more creative things. No question in my mind that the arts, poetry and reading good books are so many tools to help us see deeper into our world and "discover in it a multitude of charms."

Picture from the Internet

There are, indeed, but very few who know how to be idle and innocent, or have a relish of any pleasures that are not criminal; every diversion they take is at the expense of some one virtue or another, and their very first step out of business is into vice or folly. A man should endeavor, therefore, to make the sphere of his innocent pleasures as wide as possible, that he may retire into them with safety, and find in them such a satisfaction as a wise man would not blush to take. Joseph Addison

I chose this picture by Subir Basak to illustrate two of the innocent pleasures I enjoy most in life; children and water. This amazing picture captures both subjects in a most spectacular way.

I was on my son Eric’s blog looking up the post he wrote about being visited by angels unaware to share with a brother named Soto. The subject of the post was a Hispanic man and a large black woman, the one who crept in and the other who came in like a blustery wind to his church. Each stayed just long enough to be noticed, aided and then off they went to who knows where.

Soto loved the post and we discussed it a little. Then two days later, when I arrived at work, Soto hurried to me and told me that the evening before he and a friend went to Wendy’s to get a hamburger and when they took their seats they noticed what appeared to be a homeless man eating at a table alone. The man was entertaining himself with imaginary figures and movements with his hands all the while smiling and laughing in a very approving manner. As they put their food on the table they also noticed another apparent homeless person, this time an older woman with long coat and a pile of possessions wrapped in plastic bags.She was also busy entertaining herself with melodic conversation. As this scene was observed by Soto he began to sense a powerful presence of the Lord and a remembrance of the blog post I shared with him and he excitedly shared his thoughts and feelings with his friend who also began to sense the presence. During the dinner they made eye contact with both of the “angels” and as they left, Soto engaged the woman with a cordial word and blessing while his friend gave a gift to the homeless man.

This "chance meeting made a deep impression on Soto and just as if to seal the lesson, the next evening that very angel (woman), came into the Thrift store shopping. He rushed up to me eagerly and called me over to observe this woman. We greeted her heartily and I'm sure she had no idea why she was getting the royal treatment by us....... or did she?

Photo by Marjorie Smith

I ran across the following quote the other day and was tempted to continue past it without a clue of what the author meant. But I decided not to let it get away that easily so I begin to poke and jab at it turning it on its side and rolling it around until I was determined to understand it. I worked on it with the aid of the dictionary for five or ten minutes until I captured his meaning. I enjoyed it so I decided to print out a dozen copies and give it to the guys at the center for something to do with idle time and the next morning we would talk about it. None but one was able to figure it out and I was with him as he read it, considered and then prayed for light. In less than three minutes he captured the meaning, and this man with only a sixth grade education!

“Be thou in the van of circumstances, yea, seize the arrow’s barb before the pent string murmurs.”

I felt that 1^st Corinthians 16:13 was a similar meaning.