Monday Morning Music Ministry

11-8-21

It seems like everywhere we turn these days we meet “virtual” things, “bots” (robots and robotic actions), and automated actions. When I was younger, the prospect of such things were called “labor-saving devices,” and promised a future of… saving labor.

Car washes led to driverless vehicles, in a way. Now we can read newspapers when going to work. Of course, when I lived in California, crazy drivers on the freeways read newspapers instead of paying attention to speeding cars in the dozen other lanes. Now, a few years later, there are no such things as newspapers any more. This is all called Progress.

On our computers, the program will finish our sentences. Algorithms predict, with high degrees of accuracy, what we want to buy and where we would like to travel. No matter, because commercials and subliminal messages mold our desires anyway.

So modern life is telling us what to do. Modern life increasingly also dissuades us from pushing back; prevents us from asserting ourselves.

We are at a precipice in history. These things are not momentary fads, but Brave New modes of living. Candy, of sorts, that will cause cavities in our souls, I fear. The Romans lulled the population into subservience by giving them “bread and circuses.” We remember – we should remember – that Benjamin Franklin wrote, “Those who would give up essential Liberty, to purchase a little temporary Safety, deserve neither Liberty nor Safety.”

I have found myself lately wishing that modern life could provide us with virtual Volume Controls. Can’t we all just get along at a quieter level, a slower pace, normal surroundings?

I think it was Patsy Clairmont who said that in her life these days, “Normal” is nothing but a setting on the clothes dryer. In its own way she rivals Franklin’s profundity. There are many dangers in contemporary life, seriously parlous trends and signs. Some who are not alarmed are welcoming of the tremors and coming disruptions (at their peril, I think). And some people merely are distracted by the shiny toys and sweet candies, so to speak, and media propaganda and guilt trips and…

Combined with wars, inflation, crime, corruption and so much else, we might wish we could turn the clock back. Except for Daylight Standard Time, that is something we cannot do. We are being told that we can do almost anything we set our minds to… except to say “No thanks” to some of these rapidly changing elements of contemporary life.

My essays of late have careened from grim to glib and back again. So will this one, all by itself.

I am much worried about the state of affairs in America and the West, in popular culture, in government, and everything in between. I lament, and blame, the institutional churches in large part. And I try to rally Christians to assert their faith, their freedom, and their fates – that is, our civic duties and prerogatives – as our heritage is being erased and our liberties eroded.

But then I tell myself, and remind you of the fact, that we can peek ahead to the final chapters of the Book. There will be travail; trials; and literal tribulation. What we currently endure might only be a shadow of persecution to come. Yet we know that God reigns, Jesus has defeated the enemy, and the Holy Spirit has been given to strengthen and guide us. “Gospel” means “Good News.” There will be a happy ending to all of this.

I was sarcastic about the concept of “Progress” above. Yet I harken to the book I have read many times, The Pilgrim’s Progress, reportedly the second best-selling book in history after the Bible; and deservedly so. We are pilgrims and strangers in this world, but headed somewhere as we all must. But keep to the Road called Straight, enduring twists and turns, and climb upward to the Celestial City. You like “virtual” things? Bunyan’s book is a virtual picture of reality!

This week I have had moments of crying tears of grief, for friends. Both Christians. A friend whose dear husband died, I believe of Covid or symptoms brought on or exacerbated by the virus. Creative people, united in love of Christ and each other. And a friend whose son committed suicide – as is often the case, sudden, surprising, a mystery. My friend is new to me, a “Ted-Head,” devotee of Theodore Roosevelt; our friendship further informed by a common love of Jesus. The Lord gives my friend the strength to bear up and share a positive witness in these days following. I cannot pretend to think I could be able to do so, as he is doing.

So. What’s important in life?

Yes, these controversies threaten us, and when evils attack us, maybe we turn the other cheek. When they attack our families… or when they attack the Savior… Well, we remember to pray; we ask the Spirit’s wisdom. Sometimes we turn down the volume, if we can. Sometimes we may answer in kind. The Bible does lay out the “whole armor of God.”

But something else came to my mind this week, and it was not an accident to “find” it. It has centered me, and ministered to me. I pray it does for you too.

Another new friend, Daryl Coats, is the grandson of the composer of Gospel songs J B Coats. J B wrote some of the greatest songs of the past couple of generations. You might know “Where Could I Go But To the Lord” and “Winging My Way Back Home.” And many scores of others.

He also wrote one of the most beautiful, sentimental Gospel songs ever – “The Sweetest Gift, a Mother’s Smile.” Do you know it?

One day a mother went to a prison To see an erring but precious son;
She told the warden how much she loved him; It did not matter what he had done.

Her boy had drifted far from the fireside Though she had pleaded with him each night,
Yet not a word did she ever utter And though her heart ached, her smile was bright.

She left a smile, son, you can remember; She’s gone to heaven, from heartaches free.
Those walls around you, could never change her. You were her baby and e’er will be.

She did not bring to him parole or pardon, She brought no silver, no pomp or style;
It was a halo sent down from heaven, The sweetest gift, a mother’s smile.

Can we remind ourselves that amidst the fears and fights and threats and hate and dangers, that we have our heavenly faith, the love of Jesus, the promises of God… and each other?

Cherish your family members, and your dear friends in Christ. This simple song reminds us of, yes, a mother’s smile…  and God’s unconditional love.

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Click either (or both!) versions of this song. One by an elderly mother on a mountain cottage porch; one by the great Dolly Parton, Emmylou Harris, and Linda Ronstadt.

The Sweetest Gift – Jan Clark

A Mother’s Smile – Dolly, Emmylou, Linda

10-11-21

One of the most familiar and quoted American poems of the Twentieth Century – after advertising jingles – is Robert Frost’s “The Road Not Taken.”

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both / And be one traveler, long I stood / And looked down one as far as I could / To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair, And having perhaps the better claim, Because it was grassy and wanted wear; Though as for that the passing there / Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay / In leaves no step had trodden black. Oh, I kept the first for another day! Yet knowing how way leads on to way, I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh / Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I – I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference.

Frost’s poem, at least the first and last phrases, frequently are quoted. And it often is misidentified as “The Road Less Traveled,” which title lends an air of misty fatalism instead of melancholic speculation… or a dozen other meanings. Not that Frost intentionally invited more analysis than depicting an everyday happenstance common to humanity. But one scholar, Dr David Orr, wrote a whole book deconstructing the poem. At the other end of the spectrum (and not likely addressing Frost) Dr Yogi Berra stated his unique view: “When you come to a fork in the road, take it.”

I have been thinking about Frost’s ubiquitous imagery and symbolism (for surely he intended to evoke larger contexts). In our contemporary world, especially in America, there is so much argumentation and accusations and anger that an observer might assume that neat and clear Divisions reign amongst us; that there are two camps continuously at loggerheads. Friends or enemies, black and white, right or wrong.

Yet society’s divisions are not bifurcations – not dealing with “two sides to every story.” In practice these days, many issues are rhetorical reticulations: multi-faceted, as discernible as little cracks in a windshield, as easy to trace as strands of cotton candy. To return to our analogy, roads in a yellow wood that are overgrown by tangled brambles and vines. Most “debates” I hear these days are subsumed by ferocious tangents.

I try to keep Christ’s example as my lodestar; not to be judgmental, but for discernment, or to learn new viewpoints, or perhaps have an opportunity to witness. Even, or especially, when non-spiritual questions arise. It’s not always easy. A friend this week asked my opinion about whether to attend the funeral of an estranged in-law. Two roads diverge? Ask Yogi Berra. Not all questions are right or wrong from a Christian perspective. We can try to apply that perspective, however.

More seriously, a dilemma was shared with me recently. A friend who is an airline pilot and opposed to the Vaccine is threatened with dismissal and all that would portend, if he does not submit. This is more than a question of conscience: it is a question of livelihood. Athletes on charter flights take off masks in the terminal, and on the field, as do tens of thousands of spectators. Their jobs are not threatened. Two roads diverge in a yellow wood.

His is not necessarily a Christian dilemma, although proponents of the two alternatives might make cases. America has gotten to the point where people argue about a thousand little things, then torture themselves over two clear choices. I have many friends, from congenital skeptics to my own doctor, who vehemently oppose the Vaccine. The System is forcing us to make excruciating choices despite ourselves. And we are threatened.

Some choices we make willingly or with insouciance, even on matters recently regarded as grave. Another friend whom I have admired, and assisted, on public issues we zealously pursued, just abandoned them because they “have not gained traction”… with hardly a test of traction. I cannot criticize those choices, when a hundred factors might be at play. People are choosing, in political matters, whether to compromise or resist. Increasingly, we come to roads diverging on our pathways that once seemed straight and clear.

It is not only COVID but dozens of issues. Local school board meetings have become battlegrounds, and our own government is calling concerned parents “terrorists.” The internet should be allowed to censor and spy? We are to be under suspicion for having more than $600 in bank accounts? Can we call politicians murderers when they want to allow babies to be killed? Oh, that’s hate speech… but all we’re doing is trying to love babies.

The Lord knows I do not condemn my friends with whose choices I disagree. I have made tough decisions, and probably am making some wrong decisions right now. That is one reason God instituted prayer; and a reason that we have friends, and cherish friendships. Let us be charitable and generous to each other in these awful times.

But for Christ’s sake, literally, let us think and pray when we come to moral forks in the road.

Do you remember that old saying about not understanding someone unless we can walk a mile in their shoes? We should imagine others’ choices, not only our own, when the roads of life diverge before us.

And maybe, more often than we are used to, we can walk down those roads together.

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Click: When I Get To The End Of The Way

2-22-21

Rush Limbaugh died this week. Death is an eventually that comes to us all, but Rush had the somewhat unique disadvantage of knowing several months ago that his time was nigh. “Disadvantage”? Something to ponder.

For his followers it was an “advantage” – that is, versus a sudden death – because we could listen day by day to his reflections on faith, acceptance, hope, gratitude, forgiveness, encouragement, and… faith. Oh, I said that already. So did he, many times over.

Over his career, Rush did not become a preacher; and not particularly so in his last days. But as is often said, you can share the Gospel – and sometimes even use words. No listener, of his millions across the Fruited Plain, doubted that he knew who his Savior was. The Radio Revolutionary surely inspired people in his last days in matters of faith as well as in politics.

“Rest in peace,” many said.

But many people did not; have not; will not let him rest in peace. A tsunami of invective and hate began at the moment his death was announced. In conversations, on web posts, in the media. Gratitude, too; but people grateful that he died. People wishing that he suffered. Curses upon his family and friends.

Unbridled hatred.

With almost demonic fury, these people – fewer in number than his friends, I believe – have wormed into places of prominence, and cloned more such disciples. They allege horrible things – the worst of them tearfully refuted by his producer of many decades, a black man – but as with President Trump, the firestorm of hate from the Secular Left is not for things done or said, but for who these men were.

More specifically, and this is a major point, Limbaugh did, and Trump does, “get it.” They looked over horizons and saw the broader landscape of ideas and challenges. What people call the 30,000-feet view. Their allies quibble over statistics, but Limbaugh and Trump knew that statistics don’t lie… but statisticians do. The Dark State – and what is at stake today – they recognized.

Few people cut through the fog, perhaps occasionally checking “civil discourse” at the door. In the church today there are few, too few, counterparts. Franklin Graham, even more than his father Billy, gets to the salvation message, the centrality of Christ, in the first minute. I don’t mean in sermons; I mean in conversations and interviews. As we all should.

So it was not enough to defeat Trump: he has to be destroyed. Rush Limbaugh could not and cannot be dismissed – he has to be demonized and degraded.

In my little sphere, I have had phone calls and a note in my mail box wishing that… well, that I would join Rush in hell; and similar sentiments. When I once posted a photo of myself with Jack Phillips, the baker who declined to decorate a cake for a homosexual wedding, and was sued all the way to the Supreme Court… a Facebook “friend” immediately posted a message calling me (not Phillips) an obscenity. And this was a guy who previously put out feelers about collaborating with me on something or other. (Notice what Facebook does not censor.)

So they dance on Rush’s grave. They danced quickly on Herman Cain’s grave too when he died an early COVID death. His great sin was being a black conservative, successful entrepreneur, and a presidential candidate with an economic plan.

Dancing on graves – that is, destroying and not merely defeating – is the new blood sport of liberals and secularists. And, like sharks, blood in the water attracts more of them, ever more bloodthirsty.

Sometimes it is not only people but symbols. This summer’s onslaught on statues across America is of a kind. The arson against shop-owners’ stores. The desecration of public buildings. The burning of churches. Few people decried the images of Jesus and Mary defaced and smashed; or the torched historic church in Washington DC. But how loud was the scabrous venom directed at the President when he made a statement, holding aloft a Bible at its shuttered door.

None of this is new – in human history, that is; in societies when they disintegrate.

“The evil that men do lives after them; the good is oft interred with their bones,” Shakespeare wrote in Julius Caesar (note to Andrea Mitchell: that’s William Shakespeare, not William Faulkner). Which, in my thesis, is why the loosed demons inspire today’s “Unity” squads to hate and destroy. They can’t stand the truth.

One grave that we remember, however, could not be danced on. The memorials to Jesus suffered superficial effects, spray painting and sometimes sledge-hammer blows this summer. The church buildings dedicated to Him were vandalized. But his grave? No one could or can dance on that, even metaphorically.

Jesus walked out of His tomb. There was no grave that could hold Him down. He conquered sin, flesh, and the devil. He lives. After all, He had more work to do, through His children.

The living do not belong in graves.

And that goes for us, too. If you have Jesus in your heart, neither can you recognize a grave that can hold you down in this life. We too have work to do.

And certainly… do not let anybody start planning to dance on your grave.

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I hope you will watch this music video, perfect with this message:

Music Vid: “There Ain’t No Grave” (For readers with hand-held devices, click or copy and paste: ) https://www.youtube.com/watch_popup?v=jwr-sciUwFQ

Click: There Ain’t No Grave

1-4-21

Regarding the pandemic that has been plaguing the world, many references are made to the Spanish flu of 1918-19. That wave of influenza devastated Europe and North America, overlapping the devastation of history’s bloodiest war to date.

We can note two things. One, as with the Spanish flu, many of the world’s most horrible plagues, epidemics, infections, pandemics, and deadly forms of death, have been accompanied by wars and violent societal dislocations. It is grim logic to suggest that plagues can precipitate disruptions among populations, and just as easy to suppose that, say, the de-populations caused by some wars (more than half of some towns during the Thirty Years’ War in Germany, for instance) brought about changes to arable land, differences in public health, even reforestation and climate change.

Then, some of history’s most famous plagues and diseases (many with bizarre, color-related names like Black Death, Yellow Fever, “Ring Around the Rosy…”) proceeded in some years to kill half the people in Europe.

The other aspect we may note, after the gruesome partnership of malignant effects on physical health and societal health, is the relatively few respites the world has enjoyed from these plagues. When the Spanish flu of a century ago is mentioned, few people realize what a blessing it has been – relatively speaking, of course – for the world to have been spared major health disasters for a century. The swine flu, the bird flu, the Asian flu, and few “Biblical” or Medieval-type epidemics, have been visited upon us for a century.

A very long list of major plagues, mostly in the northern hemisphere, mostly emanating in the Far East and moving westward, can be compiled starting in the 1300s. Some were localized to mere wide swaths of land; some covered entire continents. The effects on people? Obviously, adjustments in migration and living patterns. Clearly, books like Boccaccio’s Decameron and Defoe’s Journal of the Plague Year. Less clear is whether waves of religiosity and piety, or skepticism and humanism, were peoples’ direct reactions.

A history lesson is salubrious, no? There will be no quiz next week, but knowledge is power. I am not a fear-monger, and after almost a millennium we should as desperate for lessons as we are for cures.

On the brink of vaccines whose palliative properties, and side effects, we can in no wise predict, I am persuaded that a look backward, and not only forward, is healthy too. The future is hazy; the past is clear. 2020 vision, I am tempted to invite… except farther back. In fact we may profitably adopt some manners of inquiry that have been considered outré for a long time; regarded as anti-science, even superstitious. But scientists generally ask how something started and how it might be treated; doctors ask how to treat and cure things.

But students of the Bible, believers in God, and theologians ask (or they should ask) why. Many of the judgments of God – I should say the laws and requirements that brought judgments under the Old Testament – were answered by the Person and the work of Jesus at Calvary.

Yet we are not free to sin. Although the law has been fulfilled, the commandments were not made to be broken.

Which mean that I think it is legitimate – no, imperative – for Christians to ask whether God can bring punishments, warnings, lessons, on His children. And the answer is “of course.” The Bible even tell us that God chastises especially those whom He loves.

Uh-oh.

Have we, in the Christian West, plausibly have earned His disappointment, His anger, even His wrath? In this generation, this century, the “advancement” of civilization? Are we serving Him better, are we more faithful… or less so? Has society – has the Church itself – grown closer to the Word; or more secular, more humanist, more relativist?

Do we, perhaps, deserve His chastisement?

Can you picture that a Holy God might grieve over a perverse and lost generation? Wouldn’t you? God has not threatened us, as much as explained to us, that chastisement will come in the case of spiritual infidelity. And as Lincoln quoted and believed to his core, quoting Scripture, “the judgments of the Lord are true and righteous altogether.” Can something as horrible as COVID be sent by God as a judgment?

The answer has to be found in another citation by Lincoln that “the Almighty has His own purposes.” And we remember the very plausible fact  that humans often bring problems upon ourselves.

Whether we ever find a cure for that tendency… leaves us wondering. We have not learned yet. Have we learned, alternatively, that when such problems come, as they will, that our first tendency should not be to look to governments, or drug laboratories, for help, but upward to our Heavenly Father, for forgiveness?

And inward, to our flawed souls. To this lost and perverse generation.

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A friend came around, Tried to clean up this town; His ideas made some people mad. He trusted his crowd, So he spoke right out loud; And they lost the best friend they had.

Click: Sin City