Words

Yesterday I heard the word “impervious” used by a reporter.  I like words, and I particularly like the word impervious.  It means  not allowing something to enter or pass through.  It means  being impenetrable (I like that word too).   The reporter used impervious in this phrase “impervious to evidence.”  I like that phrase too and it kept running through my mind all day.

Words have always fascinated me.  Currently I’m reading a biography of Theodore Roosevelt written by William Roscoe Thayer in 1919.  Some of the words and phrases used in that time have long since been archived (what a shame!), but they still fascinate me.  Here are a few that caught my attention:  acidly cantankerous,  jeremiad, piratical businesses, degenerate miscreants, rapacious politicians, shrewd slander, cosmic joke book, pleaders of iniquity, magnetism, injudicious condescension, omnivorous reading.  

I am digressing from my original thought (you see how words transport me?).   “Impervious to evidence” describes what I alluded to yesterday when I wrote of those alleged Christians who abuse and misuse the Bible even after all the scholarly research of the last century.  They will not deal with what is now factually known; they are impervious to evidence.  

Canadian Rockies

But the phrase also applies to those pseudo-intellectuals who deny the possibility of God.  They too, are impervious to evidence.  Men and women through the ages have claimed that their lives have been changed, revolutionized, and transformed by their encounter with the Living God.  Their stories are real—from Francis of Assisi to Albert Schweitzer. But this evidence is ignored by those who deny the existence of a spiritual world.  They have not studied the Story of the Bible, nor have they read the Christian classics.  They are not unlike those alleged Christians who abuse and misuse the Bible (and who haven’t read the Christian classics either).  They too, are (and aren’t we all—given our stance, whatever it may be) impervious to evidence?

The Bible

The Canadian Rockies

The Bible has become a stumbling block to some Seekers, not because of the book itself or the story it tells, but because of the way in which it has been misused and abused by many alleged Christians.  No body of literature has been subjected to more intense scholarly study than the Bible.  This close scrutiny of the book has been greatly beneficial.  The problem seems to be that many Christians have not paid much attention to this new evidence.  Instead of dealing with the evidence of reason and research, many continue to idolize the book and make ridiculous claims for it.  Indeed, the Bible has become God for many Christians—and all idols are (according to the scripture itself) an abomination to the Living God!

God did not dictate or write the Scriptures; human beings did. The Bible was not written for our inspiration, though it may inspire.  Nor was it written for our guidance, nor for our comfort.  It may give guidance and it may give comfort, but that is not the purpose for the Scriptures being written.  The Scriptures were written for our learning.  We need to know the story—the story the Bible tells—and the Bible is the only book that tells that story!

The story the Bible tells is about God and how God has acted throughout history to accomplish God’s purposes.  This story is difficult to understand.  There is nothing simple about reading the Bible and getting the story straight as so many suggest.  It takes a lot of energy to know this story.  It requires all our faculties.  It is a study that never ends.

The Bible cannot be tossed out.  Nor is it obsolete in this 21st century.  Indeed, it is more important now than perhaps ever before.  It is the only Book that tells the Story!  But that Story of the Bible can’t be heard, found, or understood, if we make the Book itself our god!

Prayer

Why do I pray?  I pray because Jesus prayed.  I pray because Jesus encouraged his followers to follow his example.  Jesus prayed in each major crisis in his journey.  So have I—and so have you in one fashion or another in our major crises.  Jesus prayed before making major decisions.  So have I—and so have you in one fashion or another before making major decisions.  Jesus prayed for his own needs and so have we.  Jesus prayed for others and we do too.   To pray as Jesus prayed is to talk with God.

Many of my prayers have seemed to go unanswered.  Jesus’ knew and experienced unanswered prayer too, when, for example, he prayed “Let this cup pass from me.”  Many of my prayers have seemed to make no difference at all.  Jesus prayed, “may we all be one” and that prayer has not seemed to make much of a difference either—at least not yet!  In spite of this, I pray because Jesus prayed and encouraged me to do likewise.

Lake Louise, Canada--2008

Prayer is not about answers.  Prayer is about loving.  Every human father yearns for  his son or daughter to open up their hearts to him, to share their troubles and issues without fear.  The father may or may not have an answer, or a solution, but he delights in the fact that his children talk with him about their deepest and most profound needs.  This kind of relationship is what it means to live on a loving, personal level.  I think God is delighted when we open our hearts to him.  

Prayer is not just words.  Prayer is not one-sided.  In my feeble attempts at prayer, I have often tried to follow the pattern used by E. Stanley Jones who simply asked each morning, “Lord, what do you have to say to me?” and then waited silently—listening—hoping to hear.  And then there are days when I just ramble on and on with some of my rantings and ravings.

Pondering life and Life

Do you know the song, “Carolina in the Morning?”   The tune and some new lyrics are sounding within me this morning:

Nothing could be finer than to sit in the recliner…in the morning!

Nothing could be finer than to read in the recliner….this afternoon!

Nothing could be finer than to lounge in the recliner…in the evening!

Nothing could be finer than to rest in the recliner…this whole day through!

At this early hour the sun is hidden.  The sky is overcast.  The ground is wet from the rain last night. The leaves are falling now and the trees are looking barren.  The ferns and other plants have turned brown and black from the recent frost.  But, the weather people say the temperature today will be 75 degrees—a record for this time of year.  

This day’s beginnings are dreary, but the promise of warmth and sunshine are in the forecast.  The human journey is that way, one day dreary, the next day bright.  One day rain,

the next day snow.  Someone wrote, “Life to me has not been a struggle.  It has been, and is, a Song.”  

Easter Dawning in Grenoble, France--2014

Today I ponder “life” with a small “l” and Life with a capital “L”.  The small “l” life focuses on the troubles and the struggles.  The capital “L” Life sings a Song!  We all meander between the two.  Nothing could be finer than to sit in the recliner OR nothing could be finer than to get off my duff and Live this day to the fullest extent possible.  Which will it be?  We can choose life or Life!

My Favorite Place

“In a good book room you feel in some mysterious way that you are absorbing the wisdom contained in all the books through your skin, without even opening them.” [Mark Twain]

Baldwin Book Barn has been a significant part of my life since 1968.  It has been and remains one of my favorite places to visit.  I’ve spent hours wandering the five floors in the old barn and bought hundreds of books there. I’ve enjoyed taking special friends to the Book Barn, including my granddaughter, Katie, for over a half-century.  Imagine that!

Three years ago I had to down-size my library for lack of space.  Hundreds of books were returned to the Book Barn—most of which had been bought there.  What a painful process that was—giving up a full set of the Harvard Classics and other great volumes of similar worth.  I still grieve the loss of those treasures!  Sometimes I think of something I read in a book and begin to search for it, only to find that it was in one of those I had to “let go.”  It is a great comfort, at such a moment, to know that if I really want to find that book again all I have to do is go to the Book Barn.  Or, I think, (and it is a comforting thought) that perhaps some other person has bought that book by now and has discovered the wealth of wisdom within it. 

Henry Ward Beecher asked the question, “Where is human nature so weak as in the bookstore?”  Knowing my weakness in the Book Barn, and my limited space, I have tried in recent years to avoid going there.  But Home Depot, Staples, and other such places just can’t measure up to the Baldwin Book Barn.   I’ve made up my mind to give up this avoidance tactic.  I shall begin again my regular visits to the Book Barn, where I will browse once more to my heart’s content and buy a book (maybe several) now and then, if so led.  “A room without books is like a body without a soul.” [Cicero]  After all, what good will the new recliner be, if while sitting in it, there are no books to read?

My Mother's Diary

It has been over a year since my mother died at age 94.  In the last several years of her life I traveled to NJ to visit her nearly every month—and now I feel that just wasn’t enough!  Before her death, she insisted that I take the three decades of her personal diaries and her travel journals home with me.

Yesterday, I finally mustered up enough gumption (courage) to browse through some of this material.  It is a strange feeling for a son to peruse his mother’s diaries and sort through her keepsakes.  It was an emotional moment, for example, when I held in my hands, Mom and Dad’s wedding certificate which I found tucked in her Bible.   They were united  in marriage in 1939  by Rev. William C. Snowball in Belmont, Ohio. The marriage continued for sixty-two years until Dad’s death in 2000.  They increased the world’s population by seven—seven children.  How fortunate I am to be one of the seven!

Mom wrote down in her diary each time one of her children called her and then underlined the entry.  Each visit was duly entered and underlined too.  No wonder she could tell us who called and when!  No wonder she could remember when we visited and for how long!  It was not wise to question her about such things, for when questioned, she would pull out her diary which proved her right every time.

The diaries also record her journey: her ups and downs, her joys and sorrows, her worries and  frustrations, her irritation with her failing eyesight and hearing, and her grief (missing Dad and losing friend after life-long friend to the inevitable).  Much of this she shared only with her diary.  Now the diary is sharing Mom’s journey with me—a deeper and more profound journey than I ever knew!

Greek Coffee At Last…

Fifty-five years ago I enjoyed my first taste of Greek coffee on the island of Crete.  I liked it and I liked the Greek way of drinking it—sitting inside or outside a village taverna and sipping it slowly, leisurely, and surrounded with good company.  I bought a briki (the pot in which the coffee is made) and a little coffee cup when I left Crete with every intention of making my own Greek coffee once I returned home.  The briki  and the little cup have been on display in my various homes ever since and have never been used.

When I returned to Greece in 1997, and Turkey in 2001, and another visit to Greece in 2002, I again enjoyed Greek coffee and once again promised myself that I would make my own when I returned home.  Whenever I have visited with Greek friends through the years this wonderful  brew has been served and each time I have renewed my intent to make my own at home.  But the briki and the little cup have never been used.

Making my own Greek coffee has been on my bucket list for a long, long time.  Last week I decided it was time to fulfill my 55-year old intent.  I purchased some Loumidas Greek coffee and a new briki from Amazon and three days ago I made my first cup of Greek coffee here at  home. Helpful videos on “How to Make Greek Coffee” were discovered on the internet to guide me through the process.  The second and third cups have been superb!  Now, at last, I can cross "Making Greek Coffee at Home" off my bucket list!  Unfortunately I won't be able to drink my coffee at a taverna in some mountain village in Crete.  However, as soon as my new recliner is delivered, I'll make a cup of Greek coffee, sit down, recline, and while sipping, remember those idyllic days of yore on that enchanted island!