Last week my reader @Mama reminded me of John’s words about Jesus: “In him was life and the life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness and the darkness has not overcome it. 1 And Jesus words about himself, “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will not walk in darkness but will have the light of life.”2 So I thought I’d post pictures of light showing up around the farm.
This is a good reminder because these days powers of darkness are jerking our chains, so we are at war with each other, so we “other” each other, so the country spins apart, is spinning apart. Remember light quenches darkness.
Thursday, January 29
First thing I saw, when I went downstairs were two doves, huddled on the black walnut branches. Two squirrels rooted around the ground. Not long after, I saw a propane truck turn up the road that walks me into the sun. Another one turned up the same road early in the afternoon. I don’t envy our neighbors the expense of those fills. The bitter cold has been burning through our energy. Our electric bill was over $500 last month. Our geothermal was not made for days of single digit with wind chill temperatures. (The warmth of the ground warms the unit and then the auxiliary heater fills in the rest.) I’ve pulled on coveralls in the house. The other day, while it was still dark, I watched a livestock trailer, all lit up like it was Christmas, come up our road, likely taking cattle to market. The farmer probably had to book his appointment at the processor a year ago. It felt ominous, a feeling that comes sometimes when vehicles pass.
This week a friend of this blog, texted about how she couldn’t take her eyes off the national drama. She said the chaos got ahold of her like a powerful, addicting drug. I know how it feels. I’ve barely started taking my Mission St. Clare app with morning prayer and my Bible, and closing myself in our pocket door room, with a door I can slide shut, to mute the TV news. It’s been work but soul restoring to do this instead of looking at Facebook and a practice I don’t always get right even though I feel more grounded.
I’ve been thinking about Psalm 46 since it came up in the Daily Office a few weeks ago.
“God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.”3
A refuge like a wildlife refuge where lions can live without being hunted? A refuge set aside where prairie grasses and flowers can grow without being mowed or sprayed? A city where murderers can hide as was offered in Levitical law? A cave you can barely see from the road, a mountain’s worth of rock surrounding you? The strong arms and chest, warm all around cradling you? The reassuring words: All will be well, all will be well, all manner of things will be well? A story where you find yourself?
“Even though the mountains fall into the sea.” 4
It starts with miniscule cracks, that widen, that crumble as boulders and rocks and gravel and sand and dirt slip, nothing to stop them, slip into the sea, the sea the place of chaos. The mountains, the nations, cracking, coming apart, gravity pulling them down, pulling them into the ocean, blocking roads, crushing houses, burying people in the way.
The sea roiling, an image for chaos. The Holy Spirit moved over the face of the waters. Jonah plunged into the depths, cried out to God, was vomited onto land. The Lord Jesus Christ was plunged into its waters, bringing his presence down into the depths and back up again.
“The Lord is our refuge,” this Jesus, who plunged into the depths of the waters, into the depths of Sheol, who kicked death in the ass, who walks through the valley of the shadow. His followers are plunged into the waters, plunged into death, and pulled back up again, water streaming, water needing to be wiped out of eyes, to new creation.
Mostly I’ve watched, mouth open, reading assorted perspectives on the current chaos. It’s like a movie where the action could leap out and grab you by the neck. My British friend reminds me that our country is a big country made up of all sorts of regions and cultures even if there is a MacDonalds in nearly every town.
Some preachers, poets cheer the crumbling, the roaring, the dust rising up, saying law and order is an idol, but I say so is chaos. Some people say Empire should be undone, and yet St Paul urged a different response:
First of all then, I urge that supplications, prayers, intercessions and thanksgiving be made for all people, for kings and all who are in high positions, that we may lead a quiet life, godly and dignified in every way. This is good, and it is pleasing in the sight of God our Savior, who desires all people to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth5
“There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God, the holy habitation of the most high.”6
Ezekiel said a river would pour from the south end of temple. The river pouring out with trees beside whose leaves are for the healing of the nations. The water Jesus blessed by being baptized. The water Jesus told the woman at the well that “Everyone who drinks of the water that I will give him will never be thirsty again.”7 The water where we join him at the start of our walk with him, that pours out of us when we walk.
“The nations rage, the kingdoms totter; he utters his voice the earth melts.”8
How many civilizations have crumbled? How many laments? How many deaths? But go back to the beginning, God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. God a very present help.
“God who makes wars cease to the end of the earth; he breaks the bow and shatters the spear. He burns the chariots with fire.”9
How long oh Lord? How long? War has broken out around the world. 35,000 Iranians killed by the mullahs. 2 million dead from the Ukrainian/Russian War. Over 73,000 killed in the Gaza war. Nigerian Christians slaughtered. More than I’ve named here. You know Lord. You told us wars and rumors of wars and the end will come, that’s what you said. If the earth cried out with Abel’s blood, surely it’s been wailing for the last many thousand years. How long until the end?
Lord couldn’t you at least break the bow, shatter the spears that are being raised, the strings pulled back, ready to let fly arrows, pointed at other Americans? Couldn’t you at least throw water on the vengeance rising in people’s hearts because vengeance makes internet addled people feel alive? Couldn’t we hear the call to repent? Don’t we know the winnowing fork is in your hand? That you will clear the chaff and burn it with unquenchable fire?10
But not just us, Lord, break the bow, shatter the spear for the the nations of the world.
You know what he says?
Be still and know that I am God.11
Be still.
And know.
There is a whole creation that speaks of him. And the stars. And Holy Writ. And the early fathers and saints and good writers and mostly our neighbors who bear the Image. Our neighbors with that very same river, that living water that makes glad the city of God, that runs through us.Though the splinters become cracks, the cracks become gulleys, the mountains slip and slide into the sea, boulders, stones, gravel, sand dirt, pour over roads, houses, people, dumping it all into the roiling waters, he says I am your refuge. Be still. Be still. And know. That I am God. Your refuge. My presence with you, in the roiling waters, my very present help, my presence. Be still.
I watched Mrs. Dog grab Mr. Dog’s neck, growling, then saw them break away and run as fast as they could go. That’s all I heard, Oma’s growling, their feet running through matted leaves. The day was still as in no motor sounds. Not from the main road south of us. Not from trains, we usually time our walks with trains, but this morning nothing. No jets on approach to the Rockford International airport. I heard a couple birds, who’ve been scarce in the cold. I looked up and way high I saw what might have been a red wing blackbird, though she was probably a plain old black bird. Remember I had one who watched me from the wires on my walks this summer? The air was so still we could hear L’s truck pull out of his driveway a half mile away. And then a single engine plane high up. I stood, my feet chilled, hooked up the dogs when Mr. Dog ran to me for refuge. I took that stillness into the house, grateful the wind, too had gone quiet.
Works Cited
1 John 1: 4 – 5, ESV
2 John 8:12, ESV
3 Psalm 46: 1, ESV
4 Psalm 46: 2, ESV
5 1 Tim 2: 1 – 4, ESV
6 Ps 46: 4,ESV
7 John 4: 14, ESV
8 Ps. 46: 8, ESV
9 Ps 46: 9, ESV
10 Luke 3: 17, ESV
11 Ps. 46: 10, ESV
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