Musings Part 4

Thief II

For you, it rains,
stars hidden in fear.

Radiance of Hope fractures,
your tears frozen in pain.

He offered you azure worlds.
You feared His price.

Heir to endless riches, yet,
bankruptcy haunts your soul.

Rare vintages in Baccarat?
You opt for TV dinners.

Order the special.
After all, it's Easter.


Ignorance II

Several years ago I was in the very difficult situation of knowing that I would have to tell my dear friend, Jan, of the sudden death of someone very important to her, but would be unable to do this for about an hour because of circumstances at the time. During that interminable hour in which I followed Jan home in my car, as she drove her own, I could study the back of her head. It occurred to me during my dark musings that I had knowledge of which she was quite unaware. I knew this information would be profoundly traumatic to her.

Yet, it was within my power to defer her trauma for a brief season; to allow her ignorance to truly be bliss. Her not knowing was not a source of additional injury to her and deferral of this bad news did not compound the pain when it finally did arrive like a force five hurricane. And it did arrive like a Pacific typhoon, despite my great efforts to gently ease her into this horrific intelligence.

Today I am in a rather different position. In about an hour I will make the ultimate surrender of control and allow myself to be put under general anesthesia by a man I have never once seen or spoken to. I have a pre-conceived idea that this surgeon has my best interest at heart and is competent to be successful with his efforts on my behalf. But 'stuff' does happen. I could have an idiopathic reaction to the anesthesia and never wake up. Some years ago I did see this happen to a patient, Juan. This young twenty-one year old man slipped into coma, never to regain consciousness. In my ignorance of the future, I assume I will wake up, perhaps a bit sore, but awake and 'fixed.' The odds are in my favor, as they were for Juan. Juan and I both had the same expectation of the future. His odds turned into a dark certainty. My odds are stilled yet to be played out. I may win. I may loose.

It is a curious thing to realize that odds only have any meaningful conception when in the presence of ignorance. Before a roulette wheel is spun, I am ignorant of the outcome. If I wasn't ignorant of the outcome, probability would be made obsolete by certainty. I would be worth billions. I would win every round of roulette and every one of my investments in the stock market would be highly profitable.

It is the nature of the human experience that uncertainty, that ignorance of the future are inherent and substantial dimensions of life. Throughout history, mankind has attempted to find ways to rend the veil of uncertainty and ignorance; to tell fortunes, predict the future, gaze into crystal balls, make time machines, cast runes, read Tarot, read palm lines. As yet, the veil is nearly intact.

Nearly? It has occurred that some predictions were made of the far future which came to pass with uncanny accuracy. The birth, life, times, and death of Jesus of Nazareth were accurately forecast centuries in advance. We have ancient manuscripts written centuries before the events they foretold. The fates of entire civilizations; of grand opulent cities were ordained hundreds of years in advance. The archeological records suggest the predictive powers of the prophets were unwavering.

Nothing has been written down in advance to suggest that I will wake up here on the other side of the darkness before me. Yet, if One is able to give to the Prophets of Old vast wisdom and predictive ability; to show His ordering of the affairs of mankind, then perhaps I would do well to trust this same One with the undertakings of my own life, whether they result in my going to the undertaker late in the day or waking to fifty years of fulfilled dreams.

This same One who granted powers to the ancient prophets says it is best for us to not know everything in advance. Would I want to anticipate the advent of a heart attack for forty years? Would I relish the joys of parenting if were to know that twenty-two years from now my only son will be murdered by a homicidal maniac? Would I want to plan for the future, knowing that in six years a nuclear weapon would vaporize my dreams? In the absence of knowledge of these morbid certainties, I have the unbounded freedom to dream and plan for something far different, undistracted by the sometimes harsh realities of life.

The one event that entrances more Western people that any other and gives them more hope than any, is one that has a powerful element of certainty attached to it; the predicted Second Coming of Jesus to establish His millennial reign. Even though one is required to jump by faith out of present certainty into the sometimes tenuous uncertainty of predictions made thousands of years ago by the Prophets and by Jesus Himself, we do have the validation of thousands of years to know that our one glimpse into the future is one of aureate possibilities in a heavenly kingdom paved with streets of transparent gold.

By faith, it doesn't really matter if I wake up today or if I go to the undertaker. I ultimately will end up in exactly the same place. If I'm lucky, I might just get to do a bit more living first. I really can't lose on my spin through life as I know my number is written in the Book of Life.


"Be faithful unto death,and I will give you the crown of life."


His Kitchen

Many self-help and self-improvement books describe the vast importance of making a good first impression. Their authors claim these all-important first impressions, made in a mere fifteen seconds, will color one's perceptions of other people for a life-time. I have found this does seem to be true, but only some of the time. I have discovered that I often react too quickly to these first impressions and then realize, only later, my sense of another person to be completely wrong. A most unusual teacher just gave me a rather powerful two-day lesson in how very very wrong and destructive first impressions can be, especially if influenced by a critical judging spirit that looks for the worst in people.

Several weeks ago an e-mail appeared on my monitor, from an unknown party, inviting members of the environmental community to participate in a three-day leadership workshop in another state. Judging this to be of interest, I found myself in a pristine state park this past week-end for training in conservation and ecology issues. The well-prepared training workshops and break-out sessions did prove to be well worth the investment of three days. Yet, another opportunity for learning in that state park was worth the investment of a lifetime and the subject had nothing to do with environmental issues or conservation.

It turns out the leadership of the conference had arranged for a retired military cook to come in and prepare the meals on Saturday with the participants assisting him in food preparation as needed. We were responsible for making our own group meals on Friday and Sunday. Saturday morning, after completing a two-mile hike to the group shelter, we found the cook just finishing up an elaborate hot country breakfast for us. We dug in.

During the meal, several of the participants made some negative comments about the food. In the secret recesses of my dark mind I added a few more of my own. I allowed this tiny episode to set off a cascade of belief and attitude in me that was horrifying.

The workshop areas, dining space, and kitchen were all contained in a single large room so it was rather easy to see all the doings in the kitchen while sitting in the workshops or at the tables for meals. Throughout the day I made an 'assessment' of this fellow in the kitchen: a stereo-typical mess hall cook, big, over weight, a bit lazy, perhaps a bit slow, and not an especially good cook. I continually found trivial bits of 'evidence' in his behavior and activities to confirm my initial findings.

The whole of the day I wondered if I should assist him and show him how to really make a kitchen work. I had heard much of the material in the workshops before and figured I might instead show this guy how one could really produce gourmet wonders out of thin air. It turns out Carlton proved to be the very reason I was 'supposed' to come to these meetings and I didn't teach him a thing. He instead taught me the wisdom of the ages and he never had to open his mouth to do it.

I was scheduled to assist in food preparation for the evening meal and figured I would get my chance at him then. He got his chance with me. He first asked me, graciously, to open three different cans and to put them into each of three different pots he had on the stove. He commented to me that he had suffered a service disability and had lost use of his right hand. He could not open the cans himself. I felt a tiny prick inside my soul in some unnamed place.

He then asked me to run carrots and cabbage through a food processor for cole slaw. The carrots had already been cleaned and trimmed, the cabbage cleaned and cut down for processing. While I was doing this processing for Carlton, he dumped in several large unmeasured quantities of relish, mayonnaise, and spices. I wondered what kind of mess he was concocting. I mixed it all together. In gentle fashion, he asked me to taste it and tell him what I thought it needed. I tasted it. Without a doubt it was the best cole slaw I've ever eaten. With a bit of wonderment, I told him it was perfect. Another gentle prick. Something wasn't quite lining up.

Earlier in the day I had seen Carlton sitting at one of the tables doing nothing. Not reading. Nothing. I wondered why anyone would waste his time in such a lazy fashion. I critiqued and judged. I wondered if we were going to have to finish the evening meal ourselves. He had gotten up earlier and disappeared for the afternoon. I figured he was off taking a long nap some place. Wrong!! It turns out he had gone back to his house and spent the afternoon making four cheese cakes from scratch for us. This gentle giant had spent his time making a culinary wonder for us while I was back sitting in judgement of his laziness. In spite of a severe disability, he had given of himself all afternoon. A sharp prick this time.

I had even wondered earlier why anyone would put out a couple of cans of cherry pie filling in a bowl for dessert without bothering to make a pie out of it. A strong pang of shame erupted inside when I recognized the ruthlessness of my judging spirit, after later realizing that the pie filling was a topping for his surprise treat.

During the course of processing carrots and cabbage, opening cans, and doing other things for Carlton, he told me about himself. I learned that he had cooked for five generals, had prepared meals for Eisenhower, had provided fine dining for the Secretary of Defense, had served in twenty-three countries including the Asian theaters of war, had been through fifteen military cooking schools, and had received the highest possible rating as a certified master chef. I learned of the extent of his service disability and how in spite of countless surgeries and pain he had pushed on in his service to our country. I learned that in spite of his severe limitations he had come out to our campground to make his meals as a gift to us, not accepting any compensation for his efforts. I learned that he had brought all of his own equipment and many of the ingredients used in our meals.

I had judged Carlton as a stereo-typical mess hall cook, big, over weight, a bit lazy, perhaps a bit slow, and not an especially good cook. What I found instead, once I set aside my critical spirit, was a gracious diplomat who was bigger in spirit than I could ever hope to be, one who pushed through despite the weight of his service disability, one who was slow to judge, one who knew his limits, one who gave of himself without pretense or expectation. I learned Carlton is a happy family man, a doting grandfather. I learned Carlton is a committed churchman and that one of his sons is a committed Christian minister. Carlton is genuinely interested in the lives of others. He invited me to visit in his home with his wife, to go hunting and fishing with him. He even asked me if I would consider moving to his area so we could do these things together.

His graciousness, learned in his decades of service to generals, was in such sharp contrast to the harshness of spirit in which I sat in judgement of him all day long. It became powerfully evident to me in that kitchen that a judging critical spirit will only produce pain and loss. I stood in that kitchen in wonderment at how this gentle giant was able to embrace me in friendship and total acceptance in spite of the rotten stench emanating from my soul to co-mingle with the delightful fragrances wafting up from his ovens and pots. For certain, I in no way deserve this man's friendship. For certain, he deserves better than the likes of me. It will be with some discretion of spirit that I call on him. It was with some shame that I sat and ate a meal that was fit for generals and presidents.

My experiences in Carlton's kitchen were an all powerful life study of the most important wisdom to be found in the New Testament. In Matthew the words of Jesus are recorded. "Do not judge lest you be judged yourselves. For in the way you judge, you will be judged; and by your standard of measure, it shall be measured to you. And why do you look at the speck in your brother's eye, but do not notice the log that is in your own eye? Or how can you say to your brother, 'Let me take the speck out of your eye,' and behold, the log that is in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly enough to take the speck out of your brother's eye."

I learned that if I am judged before the Throne of God by my own measure, then there is no place in the depths of hell hot enough to burn off the harsh hateful spirit with which I judged this dear soul who came into our midst this week. Because Another is sitting in Judgement, and not I, Carlton will gain his place in Eternity. If I am really fortunate, and can learn His secret recipe for unconditional love, than I might just get to join Carlton there for the ultimate meal. "Blessed are those who are invited to the marriage supper of the Lamb." I suspect Carlton will be given the ultimate honor and asked to assist in the preparation of a meal fit for the King of Kings.

I would be happy to wash the dishes.


Constrictor

There are several families of large snakes that capture dinner by wrapping themselves around the main course and holding on until such time as the quarry of the hunt becomes a willing participant in the reptilian repast. Some of the largest of these slithery giants, such as the Burmese python and the Anaconda, come dressed for dinner in highly decorated skins with elegant diamond patterns worked into their sleek scales. The largest known specimen of these serpents weighed in at 348 pounds and was thirty-seven feet in length. These reptiles were once widely found through out tropical rain forests. They have, in recent years, found themselves to be the object of a different kind of hunt, having been killed off, nearly to extinction, in many regions.

I was visiting a distant city to attend the wedding of a friends's daughter. While the family was frantically attending to pre-nuptial demands, I had a quiet day by myself, wandering in a fine interactive museum of natural history and science. In my visits to museums around the world, it has been at least as fascinating for me to observe the two-legged species on the outside of the glass as it has been to observe those rare species on the inside.

While standing inside a magnificent rain forest exhibit, observing a pair of Burmese pythons behind glass, a lady, unknown to me, standing next to me simply commented "It would make a beautiful wallet." I realized in those few words that we simply don't get it. We humans really do believe that all other animals and materials on this planet are simply present for us to harvest and consume as we wish. We can be in a magnificent recreation of an endangered rain forest, costing millions and yet, completely lose sight of the take-home message.

Many people will never have the opportunity to walk beneath the arboreal canopy of a tropical rain forest and experience the surreal magic of the dynamic web of life found there. Their only experience of the Emerald Kingdom will be in the computer-controlled environment of a science-museum display. I have had the great fortune to walk beneath the leafy canopy in the Amazon rain forest. But like most people, I also have to go to science museums or zoos to see the great snakes or cats. It seems poachers also think that these majestic denizens of the forest would make fine wallets and tourist trinkets. I never have seen a great cat or constrictor snake in the wild.

It is well acknowledged by thoughtful people that experiencing wild places with their grand diversity of species can be truly enriching and healing for the soul of humans. Constrictors can only constrict their dinner. Humans have the greater and more dangerous capacity to constrict the spirit of the earth, if they choose to do so. It is only humans that presume all other species and resources exist for the convenience of others. If humanity continues to consume and extinguish the diverse species of life that flourish on our emerald and cerulean orb, we will experience an irreversible constriction of our collective spirit that will cause us to envy those few fortunates safely sequestered behind museum glass.

For then desolate wilderness will be found on our side of the glass.


Stretching

Several months ago, in a moment of weakness, I was talked into buying an expensive ticket for a fund-raising oyster roast. This past Saturday afternoon I finally went to cash in on my investment. As it turned out, torrential rains that seemed to have lasted for months, gave way to an afternoon that was merely cloudy and ominous. I found myself competing with seven hundred other denizens of the food chain. As luck would have it, I was able to carry out a canvas bag full of those pearl-making critters, still encased in their stone packaging. It pays to know people in high places.

For the better part of a year I have been spending time nearly every day with a quadriplegic and his wheel-chair bound mother. Knowing how much Ron likes any thing on the food chain that comes out of any ocean, I allowed less than five minutes to elapse between the time those molluskan delights came hot out of the roasting pits and my arrival at his house. Walking in, I said "Ron, you're going to Heaven early" and proceeded to stuff about forty or fifty of these into him. He certainly did feel closer to that ethereal realm after becoming the beneficiary of the ultimate sacrifice of those forty or fifty molluskan souls. Alas, even Ron couldn't eat them all.

The grand scenario of the universe included my attendance at a party a couple of hours later that same day, where I knew no one except the hostess. It so happened that the remaining fishes and loaves from Ron's recent repast were still in the car. Some people use ice breakers to facilitate interaction at parties. It occurred to me to use oysters to do this. And so I did. And did it work! But, not in the way I expected.

Standing in the kitchen, I offered a woman, a stranger to me, a succulent morsel, just liberated from its stony refuge. She made a face of utter despair and disdain, certain the tidbit would be the culinary horror of a life time. I again implored her to open up; to broaden her horizons. Mind you, I had already installed this tasty marine wonder on the end of a fork and had baptized it in a fine cocktail sauce. Time stood still. She hesitated. I waited. I encouraged her again. She held her breath. Again, encouraging. Ah! In a moment of uncertainty, I got it in.

I waited for her to anoint me with an unmentionable repudiation of my offering. She didn't. Instead the most amazing thing happened. A radiant smile of delight erupted on her tortured face and her surprise surprised me. She absolutely loved it and was instantly transformed. She was hooked. She had to have more. What had I done? What would I do? I fed her habit.

Arlene's fear and repugnance gave way to joy and delight, but only after she exercised her faith to believe me when I told her it would be a most positive experience for her if she but took this tiny risk. On the down-side she would have suffered for no more than the time it would have taken her to sprint the eleven feet to the bathroom and make a private disinheritance of my gift to her. On the upside she would embrace one of the culinary wonders of the world that she could enjoy for years. Fortunately, I judged her character right. Actually I was just lucky. I didn't know the first thing about her.

But God knows our character. The writer of the Epistle James told us "the one who doubts is like the surf of the sea driven and tossed by the wind. For let not that man expect that he will receive anything from the Lord." Faith seems to be the element that transforms fear into joy and belief.

In the grand scheme of things, it does not matter if Arlene had liked or not liked oysters. I could always have washed my shirt if it had been that bad for her. But it does matter if we exercise and stretch our faith to believe that what God offers to us is good for us and healing and pleasing to the soul. The anonymous writer of Hebrews said that faith is essential on our part if we want to be pleasing to God and enter into all that He has for us. "And without faith it is impossible to please Him, for he who comes to God must believe that He is, and that He is a rewarder of those who seek Him."

Jehovah God has made the ultimate sacrifice for us and freely offers Him to us. All we have to do is open up. It's that simple. "Behold I stand at the door and knock; if any one hears My voice and opens the door, I will come in to him, and will dine with him, and he with Me."