A Psalm for today

94:1 Lord, avenging God—
  avenging God, show yourself!
2 Rise up, judge of the earth!
  Pay back the arrogant exactly what they deserve!
3 How long will the wicked—oh, Lord!—
  how long will the wicked win?
4 They spew arrogant words;
  all the evildoers are bragging.
5 They crush your own people, Lord!
  They abuse your very own possession.
6 They kill widows and immigrants;
  they murder orphans,
7 saying all the while,
  “The Lord can’t see it;
    Jacob’s God doesn’t know
    what’s going on!”
8 You ignorant people better learn quickly.
  You fools—when will you get some sense?
9 The one who made the ear,
  can’t he hear?
The one who formed the eye,
  can’t he see?
10 The one who disciplines nations,
  can’t he punish?
The one who teaches humans,
  doesn’t he know?
11 The Lord does indeed know human thoughts,
  knows that they are nothing but a puff of air.
…
16 Who will stand up for me against the wicked?
  Who will help me against evildoers?
17 If the Lord hadn’t helped me,
  I would live instantly in total silence.
18 Whenever I feel my foot slipping,
  your faithful love steadies me, Lord.
19 When my anxieties multiply,
  your comforting calms me down.
20 Can a wicked ruler be your ally;
  one who wreaks havoc by means of the law?
21 The wicked gang up against the lives of the righteous.
  They condemn innocent blood.
22 But the Lord is my fortress;
  my God is my rock of refuge.
23 He will repay them for their wickedness,
  completely destroy them because of their evil.
  Yes, the Lord our God will completely destroy them. (CEB)

Snow!

Ok, we've been having a "snow drought" for the last two years. Last year I shoveled twice. This year, I've shoveled three times. Last night, we got a dusting. But, it made me realize it's been ten years(!) since I posted my favorite meditation on snow:

When rain turns to ice and snow I declare a holiday. I could as easily resist as stay at a desk with a parade going by in the street below. I cannot hide the delight that then possesses my heart. Only God could have surprised rain with such a change of dress as ice and cold...

Most people love rain, water. Snow charms all young hearts. Only when you get older and bones begin to feel dampnesss, when snow becomes a traffic problem and a burden in the driveway, when wet means dirt—then the poetry takes flight and God's love play is not noted.

But I am still a child and have no desire to take on the ways of death. I shall continue to heed water's invitation, the call of the rain. We are in love and lovers are a little mad. (Space for God, 64)

The snippet above is from the first edition. I just realized today that there is a second edition. I have no idea what they changed, as the page count is only different by three pages, which could just be a new preface…

Useful?

as Gandhi himself says, “in the end deceivers deceive only themselves”; but at any rate the gentleness with which he was nearly always handled was due partly to the feeling that he was useful. The British Conservatives only became really angry with him. when, as in 1942, he was in effect turning his non-violence against a different conqueror.—George Orwell, A Collection of Essays, 172

O the Deep, Deep Love of Jesus

24 O the Deep, Deep Love of Jesus

1. O the deep, deep love of Jesus,
   Vast, unmeasured, boundless, free!
   Rolling as a mighty ocean
   In its fullness over me.
   Underneath me, all around me,
   Is the current of Thy love;
   Leading onward, leading home-ward,
   To my glorious rest above.

2. O the deep, deep love of Jesus,
   Spread His praise from shore to shore!
   How He loveth, ever loveth,
   Changeth never, nevermore.
   How He watches o'er His loved ones,
   Died to call them all His own;
   How for them He intercedeth,
   Watcheth o'er them from the throne!

3. O the deep, deep love of Jesus,
   Love of ev'ry love the best!
   'Tis an ocean vast of blessing,
   'Tis a haven sweet of rest.
   O the deep, deep love of Jesus,
   'Tis a heav'n of heav'ns to me;
   And it lifts me up to glory,
   For it lifts me up to Thee.
                         Samuel Trevor Francis
                         Hymns for the Family of God

<idle musing>
Surprisingly, this hymn only occurs in about 60 hymnals. I don't recall when I first heard and sang this. It wasn't in either Methodist hymnals I grew up with, so it wasn't there—unless it was a piece we sang in the church choir. But, more likely, it was when I moved to Madison, because the author was Plymouth Brethren. Either way, once I heard it I loved it. Maybe it's the tune that seems to fit the words so well.
</idle musing>

Worthless phrases

Political Ianguage—and with variations this is true of all political parties, from Conservatives to Anarchists—is designed to make lies sound truthful and murder respectable, and to give an appearance of solidity to pure wind. One cannot change this all in a moment, but one can at least change one’s own habits, and from time to time one can even, if one jeers loudly enough, send some worn-out and useless phrase-some jackboot, Achilles’ heel, hate bed, melting pot, acid test, veritable inferno or other lump of verbal refuse—into the dustbin where it belongs.—George Orwell, A Collection of Essays, 171

The Love of God Is Greater Far… (hymn)

18 The Love of God

1 The love of God is greater far
   than tongue or pen can ever tell;
   it goes beyond the highest star,
   and reaches to the lowest hell.
   The wand'ring child is reconciled
   by God's beloved Son.
   The aching soul again made whole,
   and priceless pardon won.

Refrain:
   O love of God, how rich and pure!
   How measureless and strong!
   It shall forevermore endure—
   the saints’ and angels’ song.

2 When ancient time shall pass away,
   and human thrones and kingdoms fall;
   when those who here refuse to pray
   on rocks and hills and mountains call;
   God’s love so sure, shall still endure,
   all measureless and strong;
   grace will resound the whole earth round—
   the saints’ and angels’ song. [Refrain]

3 Could we with ink the ocean fill,
   and were the skies of parchment made;
   were ev’ry stalk on earth a quill,
   and ev’ryone a scribe by trade;
   to write the love of God above
   would drain the ocean dry;
   nor could the scroll contain the whole,
   though stretched from sky to sky. [Refrain]
                         F. M. Lehman
                         Hymns for the Family of God

<idle musing>
I didn't know this hymn growing up, which is somewhat surprising because the author is Nazarene, a branch of Wesleyanism that still (at that time) had fairly close ties to the Methodist church. Anyway, it became one of my favorites, especially the last verse, which describes the vastness of God's love for us.
</idle musing>

Telling it like it is(n't)

When there is a gap between one’s real and one’s declared aims, one turns as it were instinctively to long words and exhausted idioms, like a cuttlefish squirting out ink. In our age there is no such thing as “keeping out of politics.” All issues are political issues, and politics itself is a mass of lies, evasions, folly, hatred and schizophrenia. When the general atmosphere is bad, language must suffer.—George Orwell, A Collection of Essays, 167

A generation of thumb-suckers (Tozer for Tuesday)

The whole human race has simply grown up seeking pleasure so that we are a race of grownup thumb-suckers. We give over our time to acquiring a pleasant sensation when we ought to give over our time to the advancing of our souls.—A.W. Tozer, Experiencing the Presence of God, 37

Morning Has Broken

5 Morning Has Broken

1 Morning has broken
   like the first morning,
   blackbird has spoken
   like the first bird.
   Praise for the singing!
   Praise for the morning!
   Praise for them, springing
   fresh from the Word!

2 Sweet the rain’s new fall
   sunlit from heaven,
   like the first dewfall
   on the first grass.
   Praise for the sweetness
   of the wet garden,
   sprung in completeness
   where God’s feet pass.

3 Mine is the sunlight!
   Mine is the morning
   born of the one light
   Eden saw play!
   Praise with elation,
   praise every morning,
   God’s recreation
   of the new day!
                         Eleanor Farjeon
                         Hymns for the Family of God

<idle musing>
Those of us of a certain age will automatically hear Cat Stevens singing this song. I didn't even realize it was a hymn until several years later…

You should take a few minutes to read the biography of the hymnwriter. Rather unconventional, to say the least.
</idle musing>

Orwell predicts the advent of AI—well, sort of…

As I have tried to show, modern writing at its worst does not consist in picking out words for the sake of their meaning and inventing images in order to make the meaning clearer. It consists in gumming together long strips of words which have already been set in order by someone else, and making the results presentable by sheer humbug. The attraction of this way of writing is that it is easy. It is easier—even quicker, once you have the habit—to say In my opinion it is not are unjustifiable assumption that than to say I think. if you use readymade phrases, you not only don’t have to hunt about for words; you also don’t have to bother with the rhythms of your sentences, since these phrases are generally so arranged as to be more or less euphonious.—George Orwell, A Collection of Essays, 165

A Fair and Glorious Gift (Luther)

I wish to see all arts, principally music, in the service of Him who gave and created them. Music is a fair and glorious gift of God. I would not for the world forego my humble share of music. Singers are never sorrowful, but are merry, and smile through their troubles in song. Music makes people kinder, gentler, more staid and reasonable. I am strongly persuaded that after theology there is no art than can be placed on a level with music; for besides theology, music is the only art capable of affording peace and joy of the heart . . . the devil flees before the sound of music almost as much as before the Word of God. —Martin Luther, Hymns for the Family of God

<idle musing>
Once I moved to Madison, WI in 1975, I joined a Plymouth Brethren-style house church. It was a bit of a culture shock in some ways. I was raised Wesleyan-Arminian and considered myself a charismatic (this is before the health and wealth people stole it), and here I was joining a Calvinist, cessationist church! But I loved it!

One of the things it did was broaden my knowledge of hymns. They were coming from a totally different hymnological heritage that was just as rich as the one I had been raised in. That's also where I met Debbie, my wife of 46.5 years. When we got married—actually even before—we purchased a hymnal that was nondenominational and quite popular at the time, although it's now out of print.

On our honeymoon, which was spent camping around Lake Superior, we would sit around the campfire and sing. Debbie played guitar, and we would figure out the chords to the hymns in that hymnal. We still own that battered copy. I'm not sure we ever got more than halfway through figuring out chords, but we had a grand time.

All that to say, I'm starting through that hymnal in a systematic way today. It intersperses readings with hymns, so that's why we start with a quotation from Martin Luther. Again, I won't be publishing duplicates from the other three hymnals (at least not intentionally!), so there will be days without a posting.

I hope you enjoy it!
</idle musing>

Rules for clear writing

A scrupulous writer, in every sentence that he writes, will ask himself at least four questions, thus: What am I trying to say? What words will express it? What image or idiom will make it clearer? Is this image fresh enough to have an effect? And he will probably ask himself two more: Could I put it more shortly? Have I said anything that is avoidably ugly? But you are not obliged to go to all this trouble. You can shirk it by simply throwing your mind open and letting the ready-made phrases come crowding in. They will construct your sentences for you-—even think your thoughts for you, to a certain extent-—-and at need they will perform the important service of partially concealing your meaning even from yourself. It is at this point that the special connection between politics and the debasement of language becomes clear.—George Orwell, A Collection of Essays, 165

Ecclesiastes—a modern version

I returned and saw under the sun, that the race is not to the swift , nor the battle to the strong, neither yet bread to the wise, not yet riches to men of understanding, not yet favour to men of skill; but time and chance happeneth to them all.

Here it is in modern English:

Objective consideration of contemporary phenomena compels the conclusion that success or failure in competitive activities exhibits no tendency to be commensurate with innate capacity, but that a considerable element of the unpredictable must invariably be taken into account.—George Orwell, A Collection of Essays, 163

Heaven forbid that you define it!

The word Fascism has now no meaning except in so far as it signifies “something not desirable.” The words democracy, socialism, freedom, patriotic, realistic, justice, have each of them several different meanings which cannot be reconciled with one another. In the case of a word like democracy, not only is there no agreed definition, but the attempt to make one is resisted from all sides. It is almost universally felt that when we call a country democratic we are praising it: consequently the defenders of every kind of regime claim that it is a democracy, and fear that they might have to stop using the word if it were tied down to any one meaning. Words of this kind are often used in a consciously dishonest way.—George Orwell, A Collection of Essays, 162

<idle musing>
Not a whole lot has changed in 80 years, has it? Take a look around you. Words are thrown around whose meanings are purposefully obscured. Nebulous things that can be used as weapons against whoever or whatever you deem to be the "enemy"—all the while, the real enemy laughs at the deceit you bought into. Wherever you fall in the political spectrum, if you consider someone an enemy, rethink your self-identification as a Christian!
</idle musing>

A prayer for today

744 For the President and Others in Authority

O Lord, our heavenly Father, whose glory is in all the world, and who dost from thy throne behold all the dwellers upon earth: Most heartily we beseech thee, with thy favor to behold and bless thy servants, the President of the United States, the governor of this state, and all others who bear rule throughout the world. Grant them wisdom and strength to know and to do thy will. Fill them with the love of truth and righteousness. So rule their hearts and prosper their endeavors, that law and order, justice and peace may everywhere prevail, to the honor of thy holy name; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
The Methodist Hymnal, 1964 edition

More on writing clearly (Orwell)

This mixture of vagueness and sheer incompetence is the most marked characteristic of modern English prose, and especially of any kind of political writing. As soon as certain topics are raised, the concrete melts into the abstract and no one seems able to think of turns of speech that are not hackneyed: prose consists less and less of words chosen for the sake of their meaning, and more and more of phrases tacked together like the sections of a prefabricated hen-house.—George Orwell, A Collection of Essays, 159

<idle musing>
Ain't that the truth!
</idle musing>

Tozer for Tuesday, with a quotation from Thomas à Kempis

Thomas a Kempis wisely observed, "We give all our attention to things that do us little good, or none at all; things that are vitally necessary we don’t bother about them, just give them the go-by. Yes, all that goes to make man drives him to meddle with outward things, and if he doesn’t soon recover his senses, is only too glad to wallow in material interests and pleasures.”—A.W. Tozer, Experiencing the Presence of God, 35

A prayer for the church

743 For the Church

O God our Father, we pray for thy Church, which is set today amid the perplexities of a changing order, and face to face with new tasks. Baptize her afresh in the life-giving spirit of Jesus! Bestow upon her a great responsiveness to duty, a swifter compassion with suffering, and an utter loyalty to the will of God. Help her to proclaim boldly the coming of the kingdom of God. Put upon her lips the ancient Gospel of her Lord. Fill her with the prophets’ scorn of tyranny, and with a Christlike tenderness for the heavy-laden and downtrodden. Bid her cease from seeking her own life, lest she lose it. Make her valiant to give up her life to humanity, that, like her crucified Lord, she may mount by the path of the cross to a higher glory; through the same Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
The Methodist Hymnal, 1964 edition

Think clearly. Write clearly

Modern English, especially written English, is full of bad habits which spread by imitation and which can be avoided if one is willing to take the necessary trouble. If one gets rid of these habits one can think more clearly, and to think clearly is a necessary first step towards political regeneration: so that the fight against bad English is not frivolous and is not the exclusive concern of professional writers.—George Orwell, A Collection of Essays, 157

A collect (prayer) for our times

694

Almighty God, who seest that we have no power of ourselves to help ourselves: Keep us, both outwardly in our bodies and inwardly in our souls, that we may be defended from all adversities which may happen to the body, and from all evil thoughts which may hurt the soul; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
The Methodist Hymnal, 1964 edition