HE SAID FORGIVE THEM

In scornful derision, did the demons nervously shriek, “victory!?” as they danced about?

In concerned confusion, remembering Elijah, quoting the two Sons of Thunder, did the angels whisper, “…fire…” as they helplessly watched?

In furious rage, mankind had already demanded, “… crucify! …crucify!”

Perhaps, the Mind, on the Throne mused, “… the flood … Noah …”?

But, his Will determined, “the cup must be drunk, not passed”.

This we know; the Heart, on that cross, prayed, “… forgive them …”

All we can say is “hallelujah” and “have mercy”…

FATHER FORGIVE US

“Father, forgive them for they know not what they are doing …” was the ardent petition, the merciful request, the incredible plea of the Son!  Whence, from what holy place, comes such?!  Who, indeed, is this man?!  As the centurion on that hill confessed, “surely, this is the Son of God!”

He told the “sons of thunder” that they did not know of what “spirit” they had!  (but, it was not the Holy Spirit of God!)  He chided the Sabbath-defenders for wanting to DESTROY life (indeed, the “Life”!) on their blessed Sabbath; but, he RESTORED life as He healed the cripple’s withered hand.  (Besides, the “Son of David” was far more righteous and sovereign that the “shewbread-eating” King David, whom they readily excused and before to whom they respectfully acquiesced.)  O, how so very ignorant they were!

To the angry, self-righteous, predatory mob, with the humiliated “trap bait”, the poor adulteress, He quietly remarked, “… he quietly remarked, “… he who is without sin, let him cast the first stone …”  And, then He patiently knelt, writing in the sand, (who know what?!)  waiting for the ignorant mob to come to their senses.  And, then to the quivering, sobbing lady on the ground, he gently, but firmly, and, oh so kindly, whispered, “… where are those who condemned you? … I condemn you not!  … go, and sin no more…”  “Who, who indeed, is this man?!”  She surely wondered as she stumbled away, glancing over her shoulder in wonder and gratitude!

With “sinners He ate, much to the confusion and consternation of those who “did not know”!  On one occasion, He graciously accepted the heart-broken homage, the forgiveness-hungry fealty, the accepted-one adoration, of the “what-sort-of” woman as Simon the Pharisee ignorantly sat in judgement on this “supposed prophet”!  Jesus pushed Simon to the edge to know the source of here love, that Simon somehow did not know.  He just did not get it!

David got it.  He wrote of knowing this blessed place – “Blessed is the one whose transgressions are forgiven, whose sins are covered.  Blessed is the one whose sin the LORD does not count against them and in whose spirit is no deceit..” (Ps.32)  Humbled, David found refuge there!  Saul of Tarsus got it.  He would forever remember the answer to his Damascus Road question, “…who are you, Lord?”  Ouch!  The Pharisee missed it; but, the publican knew it full well, as he pleaded “mercy”!

O, Jesus, I know that You are the Way, the Truth, the Life; and, I know that your name is the only name given that saves.  But, Lord have mercy on us!  Satan is such a liar.  We are so weak and stupid.  Darkness clouds the Light.  Open our eyes to see the ray of hope that you give us, so graciously.  So many of us have even distorted your sweet name into a rock-hurling, lightning-striking caricature.  Others of us have shoved you from the table that you prepared for us, and invited your enemies to head the table.  Forgive us!  We do not know what we do.  Maybe even Judas can find mercy?  Surely, You are “not willing that any should perish”?!  Will there be a tear in your eye when you, at last, command, “depart…”?  Forgive us – we know not what we do!

and, Love smiles…

and, Love smiles…

Somewhere, and yet everywhere, at a moment and yet always and forever, Love smiles at the angels, watching in confusion, and announces plans for a new race of loved ones.  Yet, the Word of God smiles, with resolve and affirmation, knowing the price one day to be paid, the cost of love, asking, “… will they ever get it…?”  And, Love smiles.

On a cold, dark night, far from the familiar comforts of their home, just past all the pain and struggle, a young mother, Mary, looks into the face of her new baby, and loves smiles, erasing all the darkness.  And, the baby, cooing and gurgling, smiles up from the arms embracing him.  And, Love smiles.

With five of their days gone by, He forms him and breaths alive the man, smiling as he opens his eyes.  And Adam arises to his new sentience, smiling as he walks with his Creator (in a fellowship too soon gone).  A new bond of love has formed in the cosmos.  And, Love smiles.

With much surrounding him, he is still alone, with a strange ache in his heart.  Carefully, he holds his tender side, smiling as the “mother of all living” approaches (strangely different but the same); and Adam exclaims, “At last! …”  And, Love smiles.

Together, they are alone.  And the pair nervously smile as they approach Him, with fruity breath.  And the Creator disappointedly smiles as he covers them with hides of slain creatures, the cost of His love.   And, Love smiles.

Another pair, ages later, Simeon and Anna, smile as they meet the long-awaited hope and consolation of Israel.  And the pair with the child, Joseph and Mary, smile, marveling over and carefully memorizing the strange words of this old pair?!  And, Love smiles.

The studious, old teachers smile as they listen to His answers, a mere boy of twelve.  Later, the Twelve often smile with the same curious amazement.  Heaven smiles as the message unfolds.  Will they hear it?  And, Love smiles.

Smiling, Jesus affirms the answer given by the seeker about the great command – “…love God … love your neighbor…”  And with a gleam in His eye, He continues, “… you are not far from the kingdom…”  and, Love smiles.

Mary and her sons approach the crowd surrounding her firstborn, confusedly smiling as they see Jesus, motion toward the crowd, designating them as his family.  Jesus smiles as he calls them “brothers and sisters”, watching their eyes light up with hope.  And, Love smiles.

The Centurion, in charge of the whole bloody affair, smiles knowingly, but awkwardly aware “… surely, this is the Son of God!”  And the slain Savior, the crucified Christ, mercifully smiles, petitioning, “…Father, forgive them …”   And, Love smiles.

Three times he denied Him; and, now Simon Peter embarrassingly smiles as He thrice asks, “… do you love me?”  And Jesus reassuringly smiles as thrice he directs, “… feed my sheep…”  And, Love smiles.

Daily, my struggles and desires wage warfare within me.  Upward I look, nervously smiling to see the smiling Face above.  He’s brought me so far; surely, He’s not done with me now? Not yet?  “…while yet a sinner, Christ died for me …”  comes to mind!  “Behind a frowning providence, He hides a smiling face…”  echoes in my mind!  And, Love smiles!

Somewhere, and yet everywhere, at a moment and yet always and forever, Love smiles at the angels, watching in confusion, and announces plans for a new race of loved ones.  Yet, the Word of God smiles, with resolve and affirmation, knowing the price one day to be paid, the cost of love, asking, “… will they ever get it…?”  And, Love smiles.

Shall I play for you
Pa rum pum pum pum
Pa rum pum pum
Pum pum pum pum

Mary nodded
Pa rum pum pum pum
The ox and lamb kept time
Pa rum pum pum pum

I played my drum for him
Pa rum pum pum pum
I played my best for him
Pa rum pum pum pum,
Rum pum pum pum,
Rum pum pum pum

Then he smiled at me
Pa rum pum pum pum
Me and my drum

 

BOLT BUCKET

OLD BOLTS IN A BUCKET

          (today I was loaned out from the pulp mill to the powerhouse, to work on the ash sluice system; after the job was completed, I picked up the old bolts and put them in a ten-quart pail for disposal)

          The next stop is the scrap metal dumpster.  From there, who knows?!  Maybe the scrap man will take them to a smelter and they will leave the furnace as iron ingots for their next purpose.  They have served their purpose, fasteners for the sluice line flanges.  But, what next?!

          I am nearly sixty.  Questions of purpose and mortality nag.  I have two grown kids older than one of my crew mates.  I try to be useful and pull my weight; but … they make me a gopher much of the time.  (and, really, they are just, kindly, trying to take care of the old man)

          Against the backdrop of the millennia, what single life really matters?  That question surfaces.  Seemingly, we are only drops in a great river of human history.  The Cosmic Coach calls some good plays and makes a few look good.  But, even they play only a few seasons and then hang up their cleats.

          Growing old gracefully might be the point.  Sure, hold it together while “in the flange”.  But, soon, parts are replaced and new bolts installed.  The old ones go in the bucket and we are then tossed in the dumpster.

          I started out my existence from ore dug out of an iron mine, sent to a smelter to be refined, and then to a fastener manufacturer.  Then I was bought by this mill and ended up here in the power house holding together this flange.  Did my job for years.  Maybe I will continue on as a paper weight, for a while.  But, rust and stress have taken their toll.

          I do believe that I will be recycled and live on.  I will have a new form and live on, serving some new purpose.  Maybe I will even be forged and hammered into a sword for the angels?!

Sand-Writing

Sand-Writing

                His work-calloused finger traced through the sand and dust on the stone floor of the Temple courts.  He was just sitting there, teaching a crowd of people, when we stormed in, interrupting him with our perfect question!  I was so young and misled by the older experts, but it was so energizing.  We were going to trap him in his own words, one way or the other.

                But, he quietly ignored our noisy, angry demands, and closed his eyes, slowly bending and scratched on the stones beside his humble perch.  That just made us more angry, at first.  But, it was confusing, and defusing all at once!  I was in the back of our group and it was difficult to see.  “What was he writing?!” was surely the question on the minds of others besides me!

                Most did not want to talk about it the next day.  We had been caught in our own snare.  His calm demeanor was intriguing, at least it was to me.  He distracted the gaze of the crowd away from that pawn, that prostitute, that non-person.  He deflected the anger of our group upon himself.

                What he wrote that day was blown away with the next breeze, a cooling wind, much like he cooled our angry hearts.  It was as if, all at once, he was accusing and excusing our sins, all of us.  Some said he wrote names, dates, … and with his other hand wiped them away as soon as they were written.

                Then he stood up and looked into our eyes, into our very hearts, and put the challenge back into our hands, “…without sin, throw first…”  Then he took his seat and continued scratching on the Temple court floor.  He put into our hands the stones; but, I suggest, he put, into the hands of God, he committed her fate.  He trusted God to deliver!  That was years ago, but I again heard similar words from Him, groaned from his bruised face as he hung there between Heaven and Earth!

                I was the last to leave that day.  I overheard his calm, non-critical voice comfort that frightened, pitiful soul, hers and mine!  For decades now I have tried to live by those words,  “Neither do I condemn you; go, and do not sin again.”  I was such a sinner!  So calloused, so shallow, so hard, so …  I think we would have beat the life out of her in the very shadow of the Temple. 

                I think back on that day, so many years ago, and am convinced that same finger, that wrote on the stones of the floor at the Temple mount, once wrote on the stone tablets Moses brought down from the mountain of God!  Oh, that we could read what he wrote.  But, he did write on my heart that day!  And, she never forgot that day!