We all have a sheet neath the weight at our feet.
It feels hammered by sin, loss or shame.
When a whisper’s soft wind lifts the waltz back again,
Our burdens do glide turn and spin.
Hands can't hold what the spirit sustains,
And mercy is stronger where a memory reigns.
But you don't get to choose the songs that you lose,
Cause the dance floor is more than just you.
This piece is 6 feet by 2.5 feet. It has a solid wood base with a 1.5 inch relief.
It has about 4 paintings under it. Various iterations that never came together. I am happy with the final result.
Can a buoy abide?
Fixed to hazards that depths do hide.
In drought and tempest called to guide.
Placed by wisdom and those that cried.
Mercy's tensile does cut the ocean wide.
Resting in the anchor, tossed but dancing in the tide.
A sentinel for singing. Never drowning never dry.
- B.Oaks
“When the waters saw you, O God, when the waters saw you, they were afraid; indeed, the deep trembled. The clouds poured out water; the skies gave forth thunder; your arrows flashed on every side. The crash of your thunder was in the whirlwind; your lightnings lighted up the world; the earth trembled and shook. Your way was through the sea, your path through the great waters; yet your footprints were unseen.”
Our work is to sing and dance for the mercies that sustain us.
I went for a jog last week and thought of Eric Liddell. - ‘‘When I run I feel his pleasure’’. Its not, ‘‘when I run I earn his pleasure’’. Too often we toil for an invisible something beyond the horizon. We miss the thrill of the present. The finish line is not beyond a distant horizon. It is accomplished, and our toil is a lived memory. It is hope filled from what has been done.
I saw a man run bold and fast
on an occasion he was passed
Thin his grin when other runners paused to gasp.
In the end his screaming legs pushed and dashed.
I whispered “Well run and done”. To the ground he crashed.
……………………………………………
“VICTORY!” Glory for toils spent and went. and yet…
……………………………………………
As the prize seeped down his face,
The striders passed, still fast upon the chase.
Not one paused nor glanced amidst their haste.
Each one steadied with open pace.
……………………………………………
The crowd ran too. Onward. Upward. Toward sun and height.
Long and westward fixed in the flight.
A massive herd fleeing loss and night.
Their striving thundered with speed and fright.
……………………………………………
Ambition veiled the good and bad.
This one laughing, that one sad.
A vengeful army chasing what they had.
Sprinting chaos. Sprinting mad.
……………………………………………
“No, Not this time… Not again.”
To his feet we rose bold and fast
on this occasion having just been passed.
Thin grins grew wide when others crashed.
At the end my screaming legs pushed and passed.
A victor not to be. my wreath slipping the horizon last
-B Oaks
“9 What gain has the worker from his toil? 10 I have seen the business that God has given to the children of man to be busy with. 11 He has made everything beautiful in its time. Also, he has put eternity into man’s heart, yet so that he cannot find out what God has done from the beginning to the end. 12 I perceived that there is nothing better for them than to be joyful and to do good as long as they live; 13 also that everyone should eat and drink and take pleasure in all his toil—this is God’s gift to man.
14 I perceived that whatever God does endures forever; nothing can be added to it, nor anything taken from it. God has done it, so that people fear before him. 15 That which is, already has been; that which is to be, already has been; and God seeks what has been driven away. ”
We are all like wandering sheep. Straying closer to the cliffs edge. Testing the tinsel strength of God’s love. Sometimes our wanderings are visible, other times they exist in the deep chambers of our heart. In these spaces there is often an argument we have with God. We seek both him and our desires, convinced they are not only compatible, but designed for each other.
THE PRESS
Let's mitigate our positions.
Now give me the grasp of my pursuits!
Your press has trapped my entire arm on this well's lip.
I cannot move.
"Let go" You say? - I have reached to the breach.
Since when does Love become license?
I will claim jurisdiction over myself.
Let's mitigate our positions.
I prefer here and now,
Relent your press and grant freedom by these terms:
I will insert my hand, arm, head and everything to my feet. I promise to keep a toes grip on the lip, so as not to appear obstinate.
To be frank, it seems daft upon an ease, extending further in, you press again.
Let's mitigate our position.
-B. Oaks
“For freedom Christ has set us free; stand firm therefore, and do not submit again to a yoke of slavery.”
Ms. Barbara, a prophetess of mercy.
Through providence, on a remote island, she spoke.
“Sometimes you need to hear God say YES’’.
On one side, men dripping with resources and “no trespassing” signs.
On the other, Barbara. A outcast slave descendant on barrier islands of poverty.
In the middle, me, a stranger to both.
From her wages of service, A FEAST!
Fish, shrimp, chicken, corn, potatoes, sausage, beans, hushpuppies.
From the wages of mercy, A welcome dripping in gratitude.
Mercy spoke.
“Sometimes you need to hear GOD say YES”
Christ fed through poverty when riches would not.
-B.Oaks
Cynicism tells us that charity has unseen strings, like a spider web, and the price for pulling will devour us. So charity becomes commerce, and we seek to purchase our independence. But true charity never binds. It gives. The story above is of a mercy my family received several years ago. No strings were attached. Unfortunately, I was unwilling to receive the mercy in whole. I thought I could mitigate my merit. So I gave Barbara’s husband cash. (I thought about hiding this part of the story, but I think its important as we learn gratitude.)
“But now that you’ve found you don’t have to listen to sin tell you what to do, and have discovered the delight of listening to God telling you, what a surprise! A whole, healed, put-together life right now, with more and more of life on the way! Work hard for sin your whole life and your pension is death. But God’s gift is real life, eternal life, delivered by Jesus, our Master.”
There are plenty of ways to end this poem with a “ribbon”. But most of our prayers exist before the “ribbon”. This poem meets us, like the psalms, in the space of not knowing. Faith occurs in unrequested places. Sometimes, but only sometimes, those places are temporary. Mercy is much bigger than we imagine.
Prayer, thirsty in the crows nest with no land in sight.
Ten thousand silent waves lapping. Open water.
Drifting down and away from all horizons.
In this boundless cell of questions.
The old ways reluctantly fall.
A place of beauty and ash.
A blood spilt mutiny.
Submission.
Come Mercy, diminish me.
That in this salt sea I might overflow.
Back to the crowsnest I climb. Watchers stare.
Wisdom waits. To be the fool pointing upon the horizon
Prayer. What a school!
-B.Oaks
“Where is the one who is wise? Where is the scribe? Where is the debater of this age? Has not God made foolish the wisdom of the world?... But God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong; God chose what is low and despised in the world, even things that are not, to bring to nothing things that are, so that no human being might boast in the presence of God.”
“My soul waits for the Lord more than watchmen for the morning, more than watchmen for the morning.”
Everybody has a context that God uses to shepherd us toward hope. But it is never as we would prescribe. If you are in the valley or the harvest, growth in hope is ALWAYS better in the shared light of community.
Indiscriminate Light
Variant beams land on the Left and on the Right.
The scar and the hammer receive equal beam.
They grace faded glory, in colors not yet seen.
Some carve out valleys, those days to disdain.
For others it’s a harvest with endless fields of grain.
Unshakable Light
A purpose veiled for the wrong, and the right.
Prophets and Poets, all receive a proper share.
Who gets the fortune and who gets despair?
In long lean split mysteries, our shadows beg to shine.
When wishes get divided, by fractures and by lines.
Boundless Light
Abiding through an inescapable flight.
These jars touched by darkness, all wanting to know.
Can cracks trust the light, if the wounds start to show?
No one can escape it, a wisdom that is Just.
The deeper mercies found, when light shines upon dust.
Lay it up to the Light
-B.Oaks
“ But who are you, a human being, to talk back to God? “Shall what is formed say to the one who formed it, ‘Why did you make me like this?’ Does not the potter have the right to make out of the same lump of clay some pottery for special purposes and some for common use?”
“Oh, the depth of the riches of the wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable his judgments, and his paths beyond tracing out! “Who has known the mind of the Lord? Or who has been his counselor?” “Who has ever given to God, that God should repay them?” For from him and through him and for him are all things. To him be the glory forever! Amen.”
“Questions #1
What is your only comfort in life and death?
Answer:
That I am not my own, but belong with body and soul, both in life and in death, to my faithful Saviour Jesus Christ. He has fully paid for all my sins with his precious blood, and has set me free from all the power of the devil. He also preserves me in such a way that without the will of my heavenly Father not a hair can fall from my head; indeed, all things must work together for my salvation. Therefore, by his Holy Spirit he also assures me of eternal life and makes me heartily willing and ready from now on to live for him.”
Like a tapestry, our memories are woven by moments. These moments are threads of pain and joy. Each one so interwoven that we can never pull one without the other. Wisdom is learning to use that tapestry to love those around you in the here and now.
This old guitar plays just fine on a Sunday afternoon
It welcomes back by sweet memories and secrets from every room.
I can draw it out to perfection, the carpet, pictures and the clock.
Country roads and front porch woes, pass time by sway and rock.
It's all about Aunt Helen, the family I’ve never known.
She's a shadow in my memory and her hugs still smell like home.
Its butterflies and box fans, stealing ice from the freezer tray,
Humming blues just for you as we cool off from the day.
Its summertime in the vineyard, hiding ‘neath the magnolia tree,
There something in the barn that’s gone, a picture of you and me.
It's all about Aunt Helen, the family I’ve never known.
She's a shadow in my memory and her hugs still smell like home.
In the oven there is cornbread, soft butter and blue table salt,
Fresh fruit is in the cellar fridge and adventures with Charles Kuralt.
It’s a quiet that feels normal, I never felt alone,
The window’s breeze, a late-night tease and calls from a rotary phone.
He is Carnac the magnificent, laughing at a world beyond our view,
Riddles from the ages past and the truths I thought I knew.
I hear tires on the gravel, slipping by in the dead of night,
The sound of keeping promises, passing by like highway lights.
It's all about Aunt Helen, the family I’ve never known.
She's a shadow in my memory and her hugs smell like home.
- B.Oaks
“For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I have been fully known.
So now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; but the greatest of these is love.”
My foot is broken (5th metatarsal). Without rest it wont heal. This is also true for every part of you. Your spiritual, mental, emotional and physical health need rest. Whether things are calm or chaotic, rest is essential. Rest will shepherd you from an illusion of control and lead you to the larger narratives of love and justice.
A plastic folding chair with the arm torn off, resting in the vertical remnants of a pier that once was.
This was his post, the launching point of a thousand mornings.
A place where coffee and gliding geese folded the seams of days yet to be.
But now, there is only grass, water, and this chair with the arm torn off.
The meteorologist gave all the signs.
Two pressure systems colliding in a place called tornado alley.
The barn, the house, the fence and dock.
Nothing was spared except those who can't be replaced.
The years of turmoil, sweat and striving now scattered in the pasture and across the county line.
And as he sits, maybe for the first time, he thinks less of what was lost, and smiles.
Then glide in the geese, folding the seam of a day yet to be.
- B. Oaks
“To the choirmaster. Of the Sons of Korah. According to Alamoth. A Song.
God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.
Therefore we will not fear though the earth gives way, though the mountains be moved into the heart of the sea, though its waters roar and foam, though the mountains tremble at its swelling.
There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God, the holy habitation of the Most High. God is in the midst of her; she shall not be moved; God will help her when morning dawns.
The nations rage, the kingdoms totter; he utters his voice, the earth melts. The Lord of hosts is with us; the God of Jacob is our fortress.
Come, behold the works of the Lord, how he has brought desolations on the earth. He makes wars cease to the end of the earth; he breaks the bow and shatters the spear; he burns the chariots with fire.
“Be still, and know that I am God. I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth!” The Lord of hosts is with us; the God of Jacob is our fortress.”
Its a tricky thing to write about pain and hospitality. Fear and Risk. You never know where people have been, recently or through seasons. While I typically tag a verse at the end to support the idea, I think the passage from Corinthians is particularly relevant on this one.
Everybody wants to talk about my foyer rug.
Kids, parents, new friends and old.
The homeless, helpless and those who love to scold.
It was given years ago, at a time when no one seemed to care
Spotless hopeful fabric, free from weather, rain and wear.
A sponge for libations of joy, guilt, birth and death
Just inside an unlocked door, the collecting ground of confidential breath.
Like Mary Shelley’s opus, a monstrous muddy clump
Revolving stories no one knew, priceless crusted bumps.
Offensive and disarming, every fiber makes me smile
A greeting for the weary, from wound, weep and trial.
I’ll leave the door wide open, you can sit and lay your cares
Nothing you can spill is worse than what’s already there.
- B. Oaks
“For God, who said, “Let light shine out of darkness,” made his light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of God’s glory displayed in the face of Christ.
But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed. We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body. For we who are alive are always being given over to death for Jesus’ sake, so that his life may also be revealed in our mortal body. So then, death is at work in us, but life is at work in you. all the difference.”
About 6 years ago I heard about a friend who hit a pedestrian while texting. In the blink of an eye lives were shattered. I can only imagine how complex things got. Unfortunately western religion teaches us that for every “ebb” there is always a “flow”. This is neither true nor does the bible teach this. The gospel is a promise that no matter how devastating or permanent, the “ebb” is not our forever home. Furthermore, in a wisdom outside our comprehension, God can use the “ebb” to teach us about the strength of his love and our true home. Below is a poem my friend shared during that time 6 years ago.
THIS IS NOT MY POEM - BUT ITS TO GOOD TO NOT SHARE
BREATHING UNDER WATER
I built my house by the sea.
Not on the sands, mind you;
not on the shifting sand.
And I built it of rock.
A strong house
by a strong sea.
And we got well acquainted, the sea and I.
Good neighbors.
Not that we spoke much.
We met in silences.
Respectful, keeping our distance,
but looking our thoughts across the fence of sand.
Always, the fence of sand our barrier,
always, the sand between.
And then one day,
-and I still don’t know how it happened -
the sea came.
Without warning.
Without welcome, even
Not sudden and swift, but a shifting across the sand like wine,
less like the flow of water than the flow of blood.
Slow, but coming.
Slow, but flowing like an open wound.
And I thought of flight and I thought of drowning and I thought of death.
And while I thought the sea crept higher, till it reached my door.
And I knew, then, there was neither flight, nor death, nor drowning.
That when the sea comes calling, you stop being neighbors,
Well acquainted, friendly-at-a-distance neighbors,
And you give your house for a coral castle,
And you learn to breathe underwater.
Sr. Carol Bieleck, RSCJ
from an unpublished work
“I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content. I know how to be brought low, and I know how to abound. In any and every circumstance, I have learned the secret of facing plenty and hunger, abundance and need. I can do all things through him who strengthens me.”
RJ Clifford says this about wisdom.
Wisdom is a free gift, the way to it is discipline, in the willingness to learn from others and the capacity to bear pain and contradiction.Perhaps our stumbles and the rumbles are part of that contradiction: teaching us of God’s kindness.
Mumble Fumble Bumble
round the rough paths I stumble.
The jagged ragged ledges of a day long drawn down
Who placed this path under the boulder?
Now older, bolder more faithful courage to ascent
mumble fumble bumble
round the rough paths I stumble.
The ragged jagged edges of years drawn thin
I placed this path under the boulder
Now older, bolder more humble to descend
mumbling fumbumbling
round and round and round the rough path I stumble.
God placed the boulder and the path
Grateful now. Not to ascend, nor to mourn.
but to laugh. A pleasant line drawn in my path.
- B.Oaks
“The Lord is my chosen portion and my cup; you hold my lot. The lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; indeed, I have a beautiful inheritance.”
The house is asleep with one light on.
In the silence of the night I think of you
Once again, the clock turns night to day
As my dreams wonder aimlessly in the yard
Spring has had its way with me
And I am ready to give up the fight
But these mental revolving images of you keep me, lift me, and carry me.
For moments ago this one light seemed to be a prison
Binding me to its late night glow
But a thousand secret glances have brought you seated by my side
With comfort I feel your presence
Pouring encouragement and hope back into my weary mind
All these fragment memories paint a puzzled portrait of you
My Heart Melts
I fall to my knees and sing thanks to our God
For I have been talking with my sleeping wife.
- B.Oaks
“I cry aloud to God, aloud to God, and he will hear me.
In the day of my trouble I seek the Lord; in the night my hand is stretched out without wearying; my soul refuses to be comforted.
When I remember God, I moan; when I meditate, my spirit faints.
You hold my eyelids open; I am so troubled that I cannot speak.
I consider the days of old, the years long ago.
I said, “Let me remember my song in the night; let me meditate in my heart.” Then my spirit made a diligent search:
“Will the Lord spurn forever, and never again be favorable?
Has his steadfast love forever ceased? Are his promises at an end for all time?
Has God forgotten to be gracious? Has he in anger shut up his compassion?”
Then I said, “I will appeal to this, to the years of the right hand of the Most High.”
I will remember the deeds of the Lord; yes, I will remember your wonders of old.
I will ponder all your work, and meditate on your mighty deeds.
Your way, O God, is holy. What god is great like our God?
You are the God who works wonders; you have made known your might among the peoples.
You with your arm redeemed your people,
the children of Jacob and Joseph.
When the waters saw you, O God, when the waters saw you, they were afraid; indeed, the deep trembled.
The clouds poured out water; the skies gave forth thunder; your arrows flashed on every side.
The crash of your thunder was in the whirlwind; your lightnings lighted up the world; the earth trembled and shook.
Your way was through the sea, your path through the great waters; yet your footprints were unseen.
You led your people like a flock by the hand of Moses and Aaron.”
I took this photo many years ago. While the image always strikes me with joy and beauty, I prefer the wonder Chapel must have experienced as she considered the brilliance of creation. Seeing her gaze at the world around her reminds me of Clyde Kilby’s famous resolutions.
I shall not turn my life into a thin, straight line which prefers abstractions to reality. I shall know what I am doing when I abstract, which of course I shall often have to do.
I shall not demean my own uniqueness by envy of others. I shall stop boring into myself to discover what psychological or social categories I might belong to. Mostly I shall simply forget about myself and do my work.I shall open my eyes and ears. Once every day I shall simply stare at a tree, a flower, a cloud, or a person. I shall not then be concerned at all to ask what they are but simply be glad that they are. I shall joyfully allow them the mystery of what Lewis calls their "divine, magical, terrifying and ecstatic" existence.
I shall sometimes look back at the freshness of vision I had in childhood and try, at least for a little while, to be, in the words of Lewis Carroll, the "child of the pure unclouded brow, and dreaming eyes of wonder."
The basic reality of God is plain enough. Open your eyes and there it is! By taking a long and thoughtful look at what God has created, people have always been able to see what their eyes as such can’t see: eternal power, for instance, and the mystery of his divine being.
Romans 1 - The Message
Good waters flow
By stones beneath the stream
From the mountain to the valley go
The waters come the waters flow
Tumbled bumbled rumbled
Shaped by flood and flow
A mighty silent river
Of stones beneath the stream
Smoothed by time and trial
The giver and the means
A witness of the mountain
The stones beneath the stream
-B.Oaks
“It is God who works in you, both to will and to work for his good pleasure.”
The “Orphan Mindset” happens when an adopted child lives as if abandoned despite being surrounded by security and love. This is often demonstrated in hording provisions to give the illusion of control. Biblically, adoption is an act of God’s grace where we are received and have all the privileges as children in the family of God. In short, spiritual growth is moving from and orphan mindset to trusting the adoption promised in Christ.”
Gone. Gone. Gone.
A threat evaporated and whist beyond.
No more guarded glances or last scraps guessing if cold and hunger might hush.
This home is quiet. The walls clean and fortified with kindness.
Her smile is framed on the mantle and the scent of rosemary warms the air: a promise of love.
But something inside her whispered, “don’t trust this”.
-B.Oaks
“be strengthened with all power according to his glorious might for the display of all patience and steadfastness, joyfully giving thanks to the Father who has qualified you to share in the saints’ inheritance in the light. He delivered us from the power of darkness and transferred us to the kingdom of the Son he loves, in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins.
He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn over all creation, for all things in heaven and on earth were created in him—all things, whether visible or invisible, whether thrones or dominions, whether principalities or powers—all things were created through him and for him. He himself is before all things and all things are held together in him. He is the head of the body, the church, as well as the beginning, the firstborn from the dead, so that he himself may become first in all things. For God was pleased to have all his fullness dwell in the Son and through him to reconcile all things to himself by making peace through the blood of his cross—through him, whether things on earth or things in heaven.
And you were at one time strangers and enemies in your minds as expressed through your evil deeds, but now he has reconciled you by his physical body through death to present you holy, without blemish, and blameless before him”
