The Good Portion

Like David, I groan under the weight of blasphemy and scorn, of assaults on my faith that come day and night,     my adversaries taunt me, while they say to me all the day long,     "Where is your God?" Where are you, God, while they mock?   Should I be oppressed while they laugh with glee? The doubts within echo the atheist taunts,  but meet faith in my heart and cry out in prayer: I say to God, my rock:     "Why have you forgotten me? Why do I go mourning     because of the oppression of the enemy?" As with a deadly wound in my bones...  What if they are right, and there is no You?  Worse yet, what if there is a You, but You don't care about me?  You, my God, are my only hope!   I have nothing apart from You. As a deer pants for flowing streams,     so pants my soul for you, O God. My soul thirsts for God, ...

"...they who wait for the LORD shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles..." (Isaiah 40:31a) In spite of the medication the nurses gave her to sleep, she lay awake all night, crying out to God, praying, and crying some more.  Even the pills could not drug it away.  The truth of her situation could no longer be denied.  She was never going home again.  This place was her home now.  She had been here for weeks, sinking into herself, dying. It depressed her: the woman carrying the giant crazy stuffed bird-thing everywhere, even to meals; the hunched  man in a ball-cap wheeling from room to room, even in the wee small hours of the morning, mindless; the rest lined up in front of the nurses' station, waiting for something, anything, to happen; the cold coffee; the dry cake.  Stuck for the rest of life in this hole, waiting to die. Morning overtook the long dark night and brought with it a gift, a friend.  She wept ...

I remember well that age when my children began asking "Why?" Now, I'm not referring to that cute and occasionally annoying toddler stage that little ones go through as soon as they learn that a "Why?" guarantees some kind of response.  At that age, I'm not even sure they understand what they are asking.  I do believe, however, such repeated questioning lays the foundation for understanding logic, and for future decision-making.  It also represents the early stages of understanding that other people are, well, other people. These are the innocent beginnings of a quest for understanding. No, the asking "Why?" I have in mind comes later, and is less innocent.  This "Why?" is asked not to gain understanding so much as to gain an advantage.  This "Why?" is asked with the intent of getting around the will of other person - usually a parent, teacher, or other authority figure. "It's time to do your homework,"  Mom...

Paul and I feel blessed to attend a church whose pastor also happens to be a violinist with our local symphony . This past Sunday evening our usual service was preempted by our local chamber choral 's performance of Bach's, Jesu, Meine Freude (Jesus, My Joy), and Haydn's, Heiligmesse .  Our pastor would be performing with the orchestra, but rather than just having someone else substitute for him at church, he cancelled the service and urged us all to attend the concert instead.  Then he took the opportunity to give us a lesson in music appreciation, and much more.  He dedicated the Sunday evening service a week prior to walking us through Bach's motet, explaining its structure, background, and rich meaning.  He left us with hearts aching to see such dedication to creating art for the glory of God revived in His church in our times, and really, really excited for the upcoming performance. And, on a geeky note, as a person who likes very much to interact in my o...