Three headed brute

This excerpt from Alexander Maclaren is well done on the futility of "desire".
...Nothing is more certain than that no one will get the satisfaction that his ruling passions promise him, by indulging them. It is very plain that the way never to get what you need and desire, is always to do what you like.
And that for very plain reasons. Because, for one thing, the object only satisfies for a time. Yesterday's food appeased our hunger for the day, but we awake hungry again. And the desires which are not so purely animal have the same characteristic of being stilled for the moment, and of waking more ravenous than ever. "He that drinketh of this water shall thirst again." Because, further, the desire grows and the object of it does not. The fierce longing increases, and, of course, the power of the thing that we pursue to satisfy it decreases in the same proportion. It is a fixed quantity; the appetite is indefinitely expansible.
And so, the longer I go on feeding my desire, the more I long for the food; and the more I long for it, the less taste it has when I get it. It must be more strongly spiced to titillate a jaded palate. And there soon comes to be an end of the possibilities in that direction. A man scarcely tastes his brandy, and has little pleasure in drinking it, but he cannot do without it, and so he gulps it down in bigger and bigger draughts till delirium tremens comes in to finish it. Because, for another thing, after all, these desires are each but a fragment of whole nature, and when one is satisfied another is baying to be fed. The grim brute, like the watchdog of the old mythology, has three heads, and each gaping for honey cakes. And if they were all gorged, there are other longings in men's nature that will not let them rest, and for which all the leeks and onions of Egypt are not food. So long as these are unmet, you "spend your money for that which is not bread, and you labor for that which satisfieth not."
So, we may lay it down as a universal truth, that whoever takes it for his law to do as he likes will not for long like what he does."

Unreasonable and Unseasonable

“They took him even as he was in the ship… and he was in the hinder part of the ship, asleep on a pillow.” Marc 6:36-38

I’m reading a book of sermons by Alexander Mclaren, D.D., and he brings out the point that the reason that Christ was asleep, and sleeps through the storm, is that he is simply exhausted --- “They took him even as he was into the ship.” And many expositors suppose that in the very form of that phrase there is suggested the extreme of weariness and exhaustion which He suffered, after the hard day’s toil. Whether that be so or no, the swiftness of the move to the little boat, although there was nothing in the nature of danger or of imperative duty to hurry them away, and His going on board without a moments preparation, leaving the crowd on the beach, seems most naturally accounted for by supposing that He had come to the last point of physical endurance, and that His frame, worn out by the hard day’s work, needed one thing – rest.
And so, the next thing we see of Him is that, as soon as He gets into the ship He falls fast asleep….. so tired that the storm does not wake Him.

The author goes on to point out that the book of Marc is a book showing Christ’s servant hood. In addition he points out some of the following regarding Christ arduous ministry —

“ The first of them I would suggest is—how distinctly it gives the impression of swift strenuous work. The narrative of Mark is brief and condensed. We feel all through these earlier chapters at all events, the presence of the pressing crowd coming to Him and desiring to be healed. And but a word can be spared for each incident as the story hurries on, trying to keep pace with His rapid service of quick-springing compassion and under laying help. There is one word which is reiterated over and over again in these earlier chapters, remarkably conveying this impression of haste and strenuous work. Mark’s favorite word is “straightway,” “immediately,” “forthwith,” “anon,” which are all translations of one expression. You will find if you glance over the first, second, or third chapters at your leisure, that it comes in at every turn.
Take these instances which strike one’s eye at the moment, “straightway they forsook their nets;” Straightway he entered into the synagogue;” Immediately his fame spread abroad throughout all the region;” “ Forthwith they entered into the house of Simon’s mother;” “anon, they tell him of her;” “Immediately the fever left her.” And so it goes on through the whole story, a picture of a constant succession of rapid acts of mercy and love. The story seems, as it were, to pant with haste to keep up with him as He moves among men, swift as the sunbeam, and continuous in the out flow of His love as these unceasing rays! “

….We see in Christ, toil that puts aside the claims o physical wants. Twice in this Gospel we read of this. “The multitude cometh together again, so that they could not so much as eat bread.” “There were many coming and they had no leisure so much as to eat.”
We see in Christ’s service a love which is at every man’s beck and call, a toil cheerfully rendered at that most unreasonable and unseasonable times. As I said a moment ago, this Gospel makes you feel, as none other of these narratives do, the pressure of that ever-present multitude, the whirling excitement that there was round the calm center. Even in His solitary prayer He is broken in upon by His disciples, with “All men seek for thee,” and without murmur or a pause, He buckles to His work again, and says, “Let us go into the next towns that I may preach there also; for therefore am I sent.”

I was taken by this because I don’t often see the humanity of Christ in such a relatable way. I always thought He slept in the boat undisturbed by the storm because He was so God-like, not that He was so exhausted. I like that.

Worship Narcissism

The following is a post on my Pastor's blog that I think is one of the most insightful thoughts on worship I have read. He quotes Robert Webber, and his thoughts on worship are what I have stumbled and stammered and have not been able to put into words. He has, and they resonate in me and answer many questions I have had. I hope you enjoy it as well.


Avoiding Worship Narcissism
Reading the latest Relevant Magazine Online, I was intrigued by the writer’s recent experience at a nationwide worship event called TheCall. It is a 12 hour fasting and worship experience, happening in various cities this year, for people “serious about encountering God and changing the world.”
And maybe it is a life changing experience. Maybe it is an event different from so many others, where people come for the mountain top adrenaline rush of a stadium rally. But I wonder how much of what we call worship today, in that context, or in most Sunday services, is really worship. Robert Webber, in one of his last books before his death, Divine Embrace, speaks to the “worship narcissism” prevalent in so many gatherings today, where the main attention is given to seeking some transcendent experience. But under the cover of these words, and more than we realize, our focus is much closer to home--on us and our experience--on our story rather than on God and His story, His purpose for us. And here’s how we can tell if it is located in our story: we leave this gathering asking one another—“Did you like the sound?” “Did you sense the presence of God?” “Did the message speak to you?” “Did you like the worship?”
Maybe we should be asking—did God like our worship? But even this question, according to Webber, misses the point. It misunderstands the purpose of worship. Authentic worship is not about approaching God as the object of worship. It is rather about seeing God as the subject of worship. This statement in itself brings me up short for sure. It causes me to stop and ask myself how often I have entered worship with this perspective. Far more than I would like to admit, I have come in as subject. I have come to ask God to participate in my story. I have come with no expectation God is already actively doing something, asking me to get in step with. I have come consumed with my needs, hoping worship does something for me. If I am moved to get the attention off myself and unto God, even here, God is simply a transcendent being to be adored.
Webber’s point is that if God is the object of worship, then worship must proceed from us. We, then, are the subject of this gathering, and in this, the true worship of God is located in me. But if God is the subject of worship, acting in this world, involved with creation, ruling over the heaven and earth, then we gather to do something else. We come to engage in what He is presently doing, God acting through Word and Spirit, song and sacrament. We come to contemplate and celebrate our present union with Him. We enter, not waiting for something to happen, planned in advance by the worship leader. We enter to continue God’s redemptive story, living out our death and resurrection. We step into His present purposes in community, proclaiming and living out the good news, offering our bodies as living sacrifices, which is our “spiritual act of worship” (Rom. 12:1-2).
It was one of my hopes to meet Webber, who was scheduled to teach a doctoral class for our program, until his illness forced him to cancel. There are a lot of things about worship I would have liked to ask. So I am guessing a bit, but in this final writing, where Webber seems to be gathering the fruit of a lifetime of teaching, he is underscoring--that while there is a “bowing down to adore Him” side of worship (proskuneo), it really isn’t worship if it is not first rooted in His story. It is not worship if it does not generate--at the same time--a participation in community—praying, healing, ministering spiritual gifts, mutually releasing the indwelling Spirit to one another, moving out in a corporate way to advance God’s kingdom and continue the work of Jesus. The early church called this leitergeo, (lit. the “work of the people”), a public works term borrowed from the culture of its day, and it too became a term for worship. This is why worship in its earliest form was called “service”. But “service” today means little more than a time of gathering. And if in that gathering, it is reduced to mere verbal response or singing, treating God as merely one who sits in heaven rather than the God who acts in this world, inviting us to get in step with Him and His story as we enter, then no matter the emotion it generated, something besides worship happened.
July 12, 2007 Permalink

Well, I just returned from Tennessee, first I went to Nashville, the country music capitol of the world, and I heard plenty. I love country music, but when it is piped into every store, elevator, shop and hotel, suffice to say I got my fill. Country music and Elvis are the focal points of Nashville. I like Elvis as well, but frankly, if I don’t see another coffee mug, calendar, shot glass, napkin holder or what ever, with his face on it for a while, I’ll do just fine. The man refuses to die.
I did go into the most famous honky-tonk called Tootsies, and I did hear some of the best guitar picking ever. One guitar player in particular, made you think he could make that guitar do just about anything he wanted it to do, while he was talking or maybe even reading a book, he new his way up and down the neck like he was born with it.

I always try when traveling to show myself extra friendly and talk with locals every chance I get. I find everyone reciprocates and loves to give their insights and interests about their home. I had many enriching conversations and felt I really got the flavor of the south. The weather was in the high eighties to low nineties and somewhat humid, not as bad as it was here last year, but it didn’t slow me down or make it too uncomfortable.
I went to Memphis after my sales work to spend a couple of days with Richard, who moved to Memphis about six months ago to work with his father and learn some mechanical skills. We spent the night in Memphis and most of that on “Beale” St.
Beale street is a three block area where all the music and food is. Lots of out door bands as well as blues clubs. BB Kings restaurant is the most well known and the music was great and the down home southern food is unmatchable. I ate so many ribs and pulled pork sandwiches, I could have sworn I felt a pig-tail developing. The Rendezvous is the most famous rib restaurant in Memphis and the décor is rustic, to understate it. It is down an alley, hidden behind big trash containers. But all the locals are quick to ask if you have eaten there and if not, give you directions.

Oddly enough, one of my favorite times there was sitting in a little park where a band was playing in the distance, and a Rib shopkeeper was firing up his BBQ’s preparing for the late night crowd. There was an older black man waiting patiently for the coals to heat up and enjoy a late night snack. The smoke worked up Richard’s appetite and so we decided to have another dinner. Ribs were six bucks for half a rack. Price was right and while waiting I struck up a conversation with this older man. He was one of four brothers, the oldest at 69. He had another brother 67, 63 and 61. The brother that was 67 lived there in Memphis not two blocks away from him. They were very close. A month ago he went to visit his brother and found him at home dead, with an apparent overdose of insulin, he was diabetic. He disguised his sorrow, but I could tell he was deeply grieved.
We sat and ate ribs and talked about his life for an hour. The weather was warm with a nice breeze coming off the Mississippi River and he talked about how he used to sell cotton candy and candy apples on Beale St. as well as at the county fairs. After our bellies were full and the night was getting late I stood up to leave and told him how nice it was to talk with him and offered him a hand shake. When I loosened my grasp and began to withdraw my hand, he took it again and squeezed it as he looked into my eyes and I suspect inwardly said “thank you, this is just how I spent my evenings with my brother”.
Funny how a little kindness makes a difference.

I think I could live in Memphis, it is warm ten months of the year and the pace is far slower there. Miles of rolling hills with lush deciduous forests; and I’ve always been a sucker for a southern drawl.

I decided not to go to Graceland, but on my last night there while looking for a hamburger stand I drove in front of Graceland. I have seen pictures of Graceland hundreds of times and I had a strange almost haunting spell come over me. Kind of felt a sense of kinship with Elvis at that moment as I overlooked his little piece of heaven on earth. I spent many hours as a boy listening to his music and pouring over pictures of this explosive entertainer.
Kind of had to be there.

Gainsborough Hat

Okay, I admitt it, I'm a bit of a romantic.

I like poetry that paints a vivid picture.

The following poem by my favorite author,

does just that, he paints a picture of a delicate

1890's lady in a way that captures me. Maybe it will you as well....

A Discouraging Model

Just the airest, faireist slip of a
thing,
With a Gainsborough hat, like a butterfly’s
wing,
Tilted up at one side with the juantiest
air,
And a knot of red roses sewn in under
there
Where the shadows are lost in her
hair.
Then a cameo face, carven in on a
ground
Of that shadowy hair where the roses
are wound;
And the gleam of a smile, O as fair
and as faint
And as sweet as the masters of old used
to paint
Round the lips of their favorite
Saint!

And that lace at her throat—and the
fluttering hands
Snowing there, with a grace that no
art understands,
The flakes of their touches-fist flut-
tering at
The bow- then the roses – the hair—
And then that
Little tilt of the Gainsborough hat.

Ah, what artist on earth with a model
like this,
Holding not on his palette the tint of
a kiss,
Nor a pigment to hint of the hue of
her hair
Nor the gold of her smile – O what
artist could dare
To expect a result half so fair?
James Whitcomb Riley

There are so many lines in this that I like, especially how he plucks out of nowhere the line about the masters painting as though it were the lips of their favorite saint.

This is the first picture of Ginger Blauer smiling!
I'm happy to be the person that is in that picture.
Ain't she a daisy!
You would be more impressed if you knew how long she was crying before this picture, but I guess being with Grandpa soothed her nerves.
Maybe......

Two green eyes shone

My son Marc reads to his children every night. We all know that it is a valuable part of child rearing; it helps children become creative, imaginative, more successful in school, and more importantly, it builds child-parent bonds.
I ran across a simple little story the other day, and if you have young children, it is one you can add to your collection.

A Story For A Child

Little one, come to my knee;
Hark, how the rain is pouring
Over the roof, in the pitch-black night,
And the winds in the woods a-roaring.

Hush my daring and listen,
Then pay for the story with kisses;
Father was lost in the pith-black night,
In just such a storm as this is.

High up on the lonely mountains,
Where the wild men watched and waited;
Wolves in the forest, and bears in the bush,
And I on my path belated.

The rain and the night together
Came down, and the wind came after,
Bending the props of the pine-tree roof
And snapping many a rafter.

I crept along in the darkness,
Stunned and bruised and blinded-
Crept to a fir with thick-set boughs,
And sheltering rock behind it.

There from the blowing and raining
Crouching, I sought to hide me;
Something rustled, two green eyes shone,
And a wolf lay down beside me.

Little one, be not frightened;
I and the wolf together,
Side by side, through the long, long night,
Hid from the awful weather.

His wet fur pressed against me;
Each of us warmed the other;
Each of us felt, in the stormy dark,
That beast and man were brother.

And when the falling forest
No longer crashed in warning,
Each of us went from our hiding-place
Forth in the wild, wet morning.

Darling, kiss me payment!
Hark, how the wind is roaring!
Father's house is a better place
When the stormy rain is pouring.

I think the story teller is quite good, the way the scene is set, the details paint the blustery night so clearly; of course this story would be best suited for a cold rainy night.
For younger children, the story can be abbreviated or embellished. We read this to Dre'Sean the other day and later I asked if he could tell it to his older sister and I was surprised to hear him recall it so accurately.

Tend the vestal fire...

I listen to Dr. Laura for about two hours a week and have for years. Yes she's opinionated, blunt, to understate it, a bit harsh at times, but for the most part I agree with her. She has a book out called "The Proper Care and Feeding of Husbands", and I thought how much her advice is like that of Thomas Watson, a 17th century Puritan.

Here he discourses on avoiding adultery--
" To avoid fornication and adultery, let every man have a chaste, entire love to his own wife. Ezekiel's wife was the desire of his eyes. Chap. 24:16.
When Solomon had dissuaded from strange women, he prescribed a remedy against it. " Rejoice with the wife of thy youth."
It is not in having a wife, but loving a wife, that makes a man live chastely. He who loves his wife, whom Solomon calls his fountain, will not go abroad to drink of muddy, poisoned waters.
Pure conjugal love is a gift of God, and comes from heaven; but, like the vestal fire, it must be cherished, that it go not out. He who loves not his wife, is the likeliest person to embrace the bosom of a stranger."

Termite's belly

What came first the chicken or the egg? This of course has baffled evolutionists for ever. But what about the termite? I was listening to a radio program with a creationist scientist and he was explaining the complicated digestive system of the termite. You see, termites eat wood, right? Right, but they cannot digest wood.
In order to do this they require a tiny little bug, actually a protozoan, to live in its belly. This protozoan does something to the termite that allows the termite to produce the enzyme needed to digest wood. Problem is, the protozoan has no way of moving, no hands or feet, flippers, tail or fins, and without those it would soon die and never find a mate to breed with. So, along comes another even tinier bug that lives on the protozoa’s back. And wouldn’t you know, the hitching bug happens to have little flippers that he uses to propel the protozoan, which allows him to find food and a girl friend. There you have it, three critters living in a symbiotic relationship. So the question about the egg seems simple compared to the three bugs.

Manifestations

So on Saturday I went to a friends 50th birthday party at their church. So I was surrounded by Assemblemites. Yeek! I spent most of my time talking with two old friends. It was a pretty spiritual conversation, all about the anointing, and it came across to me as though that was the measuring stick of all of Christendom. It was perplexing to me because in the Baptist church there is no moving of the Holy Spirit in the same way there is at times in the Pentecostal church. The Baptist church is far less mystical, but far more practical. Hard to define, but for example, nearly thirty percent of our members have been on the mission field, and we are very involved in missions, locally and worldwide. We are rich in good works and practical expressions of God's love. But, without the anointing, or as some would say, "Hooplah".
As for myself, I fall somewhere in the middle, I love sensing God's presence, and in charismatic churches it is pursued and the stage is set in a way for God to move in the mystical dimension. That is not done in my church. I miss that to some degree but I do pursue Him in my prayer closet and He is faithful to bless. I also don't think about it much in church, I focus on Christ and sense his presence but not in the way I sometimes do in charismatic churches. The trade off for me is this-- in the Baptist church the focus is on ministry, and being missions minded there comes an anointing that is longer lasting, in fact it is like being hooked up to a slow drip I.V. Not the dramatic highs but a warm sense of His presence that continues while putting others first in thought or deed. When I first began going to the Baptist church I was amazed at how different they were in that direction. It was as if I had never heard about the lost and the oppressed by comparison.
So much of what our sermons are and our activities are directed at, is outreach. It is a very determined, organized, corporate commitment. I wish the best of both could be in the church but it is not. So, I have to choose and I have chosen. In some ways it is almost as if the charismatics are somewhat self centered. They gather to get a blessing, blessings I love, blessings I think are wonderful, but if they become the purpose, it rings hollow to me. That is the part I find perplexing, I'm not clear on what the Lord thinks about that. Certainly seeking his face and blessing is a good thing, but in conversations the other night, when I talked about Eric and what he is doing and Matt and what he has been involved in, they asked no questions, made no comments, but just listened, and then it seemed like the first opportunity they found, , they changed the conversation to the anointing. It made me feel somewhat unappreciated and a tiny bit hurt,
So I just listened to them talk about the powerful way God was working through manifestations. Hmmmm, I thought God was manifesting himself in Burma, as well as the International Justice Mission (the organization that is busting traffickers of pre-teen girls for prostitution that Matt was involved in) as well Eric's urban church in Spokane? What do I know. There is no warm and fuzzys, so it must be something else. Forgive my sarcasm.

I'm not done with this, I think I'll go with one of them to visit his church where God is working in "Powerful" ways. I need to resolve something and I don't think I can do it without going; We'll see.

The Clear Voice

I believe that God is the author of sympathy, and he instills it in the heart of man to be acted upon. It is one, very clear, expression of his universal love, to move the hearts of men to action.
When we experience the emotion of sympathy we should look and listen very carefully to what is occurring and determine our “love action plan”. Each visit of sympathy is a clear voice of God and comes with purpose. We are taught so little about hearing and understanding the voice of God, sometimes we hyper-spiritualize it and lose simple practical demonstrations.
Sympathy is a living demonstration of God’s love and when acted upon, His living Spirit voice, grows and sensitizes us to hear at a distance.
The simple and most evident graces are sometimes completely overlooked in search of mysteries.

Take Life Like a Man

"In nothing is childhood more strongly distinguished from manhood than in this, that the child has no purpose, no plan of life, no will by which his energies are directed. He lives, in a great measure, to enjoy the passing scene, and to find his happiness in those agreeable consciousnesses which from hour to hour come to him by chance. If his life is governed by a plan, a purpose, it is the purpose of another -- not his own.

The man has his own purpose, his own plan, his own life and aim. The sorrowful experience of multitudes in this respect is that they are never men, but children all their days.

Take life like a man. Take it just as though it was -- as it is -- an earnest, vital, essential affair.

Take it just as though you personally were born to the task of performing a merry part of it-- as though the world had waited for your coming. Take it as though it was a grand opportunity to do and to achieve, to carry forward great and good schemes........" The Royal Path of Life

The lines that stuck out the most in this is --"Take it just as though you personally were born to the task, as though the world had waited for your coming...." As a Christian I believe God designed each of us for a unique end. In fact the world really has waited for that special thing we can do like no other.

In the symbolic picture, the woman illustrates the virtues of protection, nurture, teaching, and support.

Ivory and Eagle's Down

"We make a great ado about our hardships, but how little we talk of our blessings. Health of body, which is given in largest quantity to those who have never been petted, and fondled, and spoiled by fortune, we take as a matter of course. Rather have this luxury and have it alone, than without it, look out of a palace window upon parks of deer stalking between fountains and statuary. These people sleep sounder on a straw mattress than fashionable invalids on a couch of ivory and eagle's down. The dinner of herbs tastes better to the appetite sharpened on a woodman's axe or a reaper's scythe than wealthy indigestion experiences seated at a table covered with partridge, and venison, and pineapple.

The grandest luxury God ever gave a man is health."

"The dead body of Abel lies across Adam's lap in the same manner as Christ is often depicted lying across Mary’s (such as in Michaelangelo’s Pieta). Adam clutches his heart out of grief fearing it will break and Eve kneels by his side crying uncontrollably, her face buried in her hands. The image is truly heart wrenching, causing the viewer to feel a great sense of compassion for the grieving couple. Bouguereau can capture the look of death with almost frightening directness. He was no stranger to death or to grief. He had five sons, four of whom died before him. First Mourning was painted directly after the death of his second son. This piece is well titled as The First Mourning because it is the first time a human has had to suffer the loss of a loved one. The grief is only magnified by the fact that their son did not just die, but was murdered by their other son Cain, making this also the first act of murder. Cain then fled, leaving Adam and Eve once again alone. Bougureau also cleverly used a play on words in titling this work, because not only are Adam and Eve mourning, but dawn approaches. It is the first 'morning' after the death of Abel. The paining has the same theme as the sculpture First Mourning by Barrias which is located at the Petits Palais in Paris. Bouguereau and Barrias lived and worked during the same period, and both these works were masterpieces that helped to define their creators."-- by Kara Ross

Pondering

I was reading a poem called Fireside Musings by Ada A. Chaffee, and there was a stanza or two that I especially liked ---

"Roving thought! oh, whither, wither
In thy musings dost thou speed?
To some brother weary, toiling,
That perhaps of aid has need?
Seeking out the spirit wand'ring?
Culling tares from golden grain?
Pondering on Christ's example,
That this life be not in vain?

Child of earth! say, art thou weaving
In the tangled web of life
Something more than tender fancies--
Strength to brave the coming strife?"

When I first read this I thought of young people growing up today, and they are usually encouraged to learn skills that will be marketable and earn them a good living. Little is said about using these skills to serve mankind, much less the Savior. Life is a tangled web for nearly everyone in this culture, but seeking "tender fancies" to self serve will not prepare us for life's promised strife; but rather, we should be like the man in the picture, listening to the guidence from above

The Lord is faithful to meet us when we are despondent or in a time of mourning. It is a foretaste of glory. Oh that we would have more of this glory as is well said in the following quote;

"Oh, yes massa, I feel berry lonesome since my Ellen died, but den de Lord comes round ebery day and gibs me a taste ob de kingdom, jus' as a nus would wid de spoon; but, oh, how I wants to get holds ob de whole dish!"

I luve you

This picture was hand drawn with love by my grandson Micah. When I visited Spokane a few weeks ago, we spent the evening talking with all the family. We talked about grades, girls, videos in production, musical talents, acting aspirations, and a host of other things. Somehow the youngest child can sometimes be left out, especially if you are seven. Micah is seven; and while I was doting on all the older kids achievements, Micah was busy drawing me a picture with little hands of love. No fanfare, no accolades, and really no attention, he folded it up, and on the outside wrote, "To Pope Frad and gramdma, to you to, frum Micah, luv bug. and under a sketch he wrote "tuday I didd this".
Then he put it on the desk and at some point said he drew a picture for me. In the rush of things I glanced at it, thanked him, and then put it in my coat pocket. About two weeks later, I put on the coat and in the pocket found the folded picture in my pocket. I opened it up and realized it was a budding artists full page work with I love you on it.
Buried treasure, right there in my coat pocket. Thank you Micah, and I luuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuv you too!

Young Love

This piece is written for my teen grandchildren--


Falling In Love

Young love; it is a powerful, emotional, almost drug-like experience. There is no wonder why it takes so many young people captive. I read an article where a young woman spoke of her infatuation for a teacher; I’ll include it because she does a far better job of explaining young love than I can.

“I had never felt anything like it before. I could not get Mr. McArthur out of my mind. I was anxious; I gnawed at the lining of my cheek until I tasted the tang of blood. School became at once terrifying and exhilarating. Would I see him in the hallway? In the cafeteria? I hoped.
But when my wishes were granted, and I got a glimpse of my man, it satisfied nothing; it only inflamed me all the more. Had he looked at me? Why had he not looked at me? When would I see him again?
At home I looked him up in the phone book; I rang him, this in a time before caller ID. He answered……”

Of course it did not realize itself, and sadly, young love never ends up with a happy ending. But the emotions are real, powerful, and literally are, a natural chemically produced high. Our brain opens up the door to serotonin and dopamine, truly a ‘love potion’ that creates intense energy, exhilaration, focused attention, and motivation. It is why, when you are newly in love, you can stay up all night, watch the sun rise, run a race, ski fast down a slope ordinarily too steep for your skill.
Love makes you bold, makes you bright, makes you run real risks, which sometimes you survive, and sometimes you don’t.
Because it is so intense, you want it to last forever, you tell your lover it will last forever, eternally; “I’d do anything for you” is said in complete honesty.
But, “scientists are discovering that the cocktail of brain chemicals that sparks romance is totally different from the blend that fosters long-term attachment.”

And, forever is a very long time for a teen.

The airways are filled with songs of broken hearts. They sell millions of albums because millions of people relate and nurse their broken dreams in the flood of music. I was listening to a couple of old Mariah Carey songs that speak too many of the issues of young love. The first song is called “If It’s Over”.

If It’s over

Wont you talk to me
This is so out of hand
Something’s gone wrong
With the life that we planned

Won’t you look at me
You’re avoiding my gaze
And it seems like you’ve changed
In so many ways

It isn’t fair
It isn’t right
If it’s really gone
Then tell me tonight
If its over
If it’s over
Let me go

Won’t you speak to me
I’m just here holding on
‘Cause baby I really don’t need to wait around
If the feelings is gone

I don’t need no apologies
‘I’m not looking for no sympathy
All I’m asking for
Is for your honesty
Won’t you give it to me
Give it to me now
It isn’t fair
It just isn’t right
‘Cause if it’s really gone
You’ve got to say the word tonight
If it’s over
If it’s over
Baby if it’s over Won’t you let me know
Baby if it’s over
Over- let me go

This is such an emotionally charged song, “what has gone wrong?”
She begins with “won’t you talk to me”, such a familiar chord that has echoed in many a heart. The truth is young people are not experienced at speaking their heart, or truly knowing their heart. It is nearly impossible for a young man to face her question when the fickle passions begin to change and the young man has no understanding why, and if he did he would have no ability to express them.

The next line is “This is so out of hand”, this is the normal course of young love, it is not restrained, nor understood, emotions rule the relationship, the blood runs hot, then cold, then hot again and at warp speed. Conversation flows for hours then comes to a halt, becomes forced and insincere. Then a day later all is fine.
Truly- “out of hand”.

The next line is “something’s gone wrong with the life that we planned.”
Young love makes many plans, dreams, covenants that it is not equipped to follow through with. Because the passions are so deep, and the feelings so strong, it seems as though it will last forever and future plans are made when present emotions change.

The next line says
“Won’t you look at me
You’re avoiding my gaze.”
The feelings of ‘why’, are so prevalent. In most cases the intention was not to hurt the other, but the young emotions are so fleeting, changeable, like the weather, what once seemed all important one day, the next day he awakens with a change of heart that he can’t understand and finds it nearly impossible to face, so he “avoids her gaze.”

The chorus states—

It isn’t fair
It isn’t right
If it’s really gone
Then tell me tonight
If its over
If it’s over
Let me go

And it isn’t fair or right, but the feelings of love and infatuation begin to fade without notice or incident and then rise again and the young man is in a state of complete uncertainty. If he lets her go, will he wish he hadn’t?, if he stays, will this diminishing state overtake him completely and end up hating her. Of course the answer is, it will die, and that is the fate of young love.

In the next lines she is pleading for him to make things clear so she can make some kind of rational decision. She wants permanence, but if that can’t be, then at least give her honesty, either love her or cut it off now, the not knowing is unendurable.
The balance of the song is this pleading to know where she stands but sadly he is in a state of confusion and drags the inevitable on and on.

On the same album there is another song that continues other aspects of the same love drama.
“And you don’t remember”, is her question; but it isn’t a matter of memory, sadly when young dreams shatter so easily. It is a tragedy and her description of how her memories confine her head, is such an honest and realistic description of how we become obsessed with thoughts of love, and when it changes, for no logical reason, it is bitter. That is why rarely friendship remains after love.

Love requires trust and when we trust and feel like the person is trustworthy we open up our soul and often in our culture, our bodies. She said she believed his lies, and often they are simply a web of lies but more often there is a strong physical attraction and it may seem and feel deeper, so flattering words and loving actions come easy. It may very well feel like it is an eternal love, or certainly one that will last for a very long time. Affection, trust, needing each other causes a very deep bond. But, the reality is, these feelings can change overnight, and again, not intentionally, it has been said this way in an article on young love—

“Why doesn’t passionate love last? How is it possible to see a person as beautiful on Monday, and 364 days later, on another Monday, to see that beauty as bland? Surely the object of your affection could not have changed that much. She still has the same shaped eyes. Her voice has always had that husky sound, but now it grates on you – she sounds like she needs an antibiotic. Or maybe you’re the one who needs an antibiotic, because the partner you once loved and cherished and saw as though saturated with starlight, now feels more like a low-level infection, tiring you, sapping all your strength.”

Here are the entire lyrics to the song---


And You Don’t Remember

Shattered dreams
Cut through my mind
Tragically our love has died
Memories confine my head
Bitterly I face the end

Trustingly
I gave myself to you
I let you inside
Believing your lives
And you don’t remember
Every time you told me
You were mine forever
For eternity
And you don’t remember
How you used to hold me
How we melt together
How you needed me
How we used to be in love

Stranded here
In nothingness
With only tears
And loneliness

Foolishly
I gave my soul to you
I let you inside
Believing your lies

Helplessly
I fell so deep
I was naive
To let you in
Why did I let you in
To my heart
And you don’t remember
anything you told me
you were mine forever
for eternity
I know you don’t remember
How you used to hold me
How we’d melt together
Together
How you needed me
How we used to be
In love.

I remember all the feelings she sings about -- feeling foolish, helpless, drenched in broken dreams, feeling naïve, believing lies, stranded in nothingness.

One kiss is too many, a thousand is not enough.
During our teen years our brain is still developing, and the last to form is the part that is able to assess risks.

So, I wrote this piece so you may be informed, make wise choices, and wait for the season when something as powerful as romantic love will have a realistic and wonderful outcome. Falling in love at the right time of life is God’s design and plan for most of us, and it is good, very good. But, like many of God’s blessings, we can take them at the wrong time of life, or the wrong place or with the wrong person and turn what was meant to be a blessing and corrupt it and make it a curse.

As I called on God this morning being led by my thoughts and promptings, to pray for the families of Virginia Tech, I found myself asking what to pray, and the thought came to me that in God’s great mercy, even the unbeliever has a hope.
God has carefully designed us that when great loss falls on us, he has knitted us with such care that we will recover. We will not grieve forever, though the grieving pierces us to the marrow, tears are food for who knows how long, and I have known some great sorrows, which lie embedded deep within, and no doubt will be with me till the end. That being said, as the parents and grandparents with siblings and children of the lost, awaken this day, maybe the first day that the numbness of the tragedy begins to lift, and the full view of the loss becomes more apparent, the halls and rooms are now empty; no more silly laughter, no more pouts and fits, silence fill their rooms, no more bed left unmade, no more music peculiar to the loved one, no more evening talks or brief chats. It is a season of deepest anguish for the bereaved and but for the mercies of God, life would cease to have meaning.
But there is an abiding friend whose shoulder they can weep on, a sibling who comforts without words, a spouse to stare into nothingness with. Family and friends, though they cannot begin to stop the pain, they make it endurable and give some sliver of hope and comfort to go on.
Many of the victims were young men, cut down in the prime of their life. Stories about each young man are posted on the net by friends that want to share how valuable they were; and are. Young men of vision, dreams and purpose, and I doubt there is one I would not have rejoiced to have known. Young women too, full of sass, brimming with enthusiasm for life and its adventures, goals ahead, unlimited faith and hope.
I can hear the halls and homes where they trod, a riot of emotion, passions and fun.
There were fathers and mothers lost; young men and old forever stilled by this senseless action. Some were Christians and some were not. The families of both will be loved and encouraged by local congregations, no question, those that cling to Christ in there desperation will have the resources of heaven, the comfort of Angels, the presence of God to strengthen, and other believers rushing to help carry the burden, and the prayers of saints from the world over to aid all those that grieve.
Let me do my part.

Four ears

Paul exhorts, “Try all things, and retain that which is good.”
From every sect and community of Christians take any thing that is good, that advances holy religion and the divine honor. For one hath a better government, a second a better confession, a third hath excellent spiritual arts for the conduct of souls, a fourth hath fewer errors; and by what instrument soever a holy life is advantaged, use that, though thou grindest thy spears and arrows at the forges of the Philistines; knowing thou hast no master but Christ, no religion but the Christian, no rule but the scriptures, and the laws, and right reason; other things that are helps are to be used accordingly.
Be wise in choosing our company, reserved and wary in our friendships, and unreserved in our charity; that we never do a thing we know we must repent of; that we do not admire too many things, nor any thing too much.
And according to the proverb, always listen to him who, “hath four ears, - reason, religion, wisdom, and experience;”
to stop the beginnings of evil, to pardon and not to observe all the faults of friends or enemies; of evils to choose the least, and of goods to choose the greatest, if it be also safest;

ever to be thankful for benefits, and profitable to others, and useful in all that we can.
If we observe these things, we shall do advantage to ourselves and to the religion; and avoid those evils which fools and unwary people suffer for nothing, dying or bleeding without cause and without pity.