Take Root Devotions

Getting my worship on

 

I found a 3 ½ year old journal entry of mine. I keep a journal only sporadically. I regret to say that I have not developed the daily discipline. Nevertheless, I have a number of experiences that I have recorded memoir style which I usually try to develop as a story or as a devotion with a take-away.

The gist of my journal log was a bit of grumbling. Here is the entry.

When I go to my charismatic/liturgical service I go to worship. I do not go to work. I want to hide – hide in Christ, as least that is what I tell myself. I enjoy singing in tongues and lifting my hands like the others. I will prophesy at times. As long as it fits in with the flow and I can manage to feel invisible I can manage.

Tonight I was coerced into running the overhead projector so the worshipers could see the lyrics as they sang. I decided to do a good joy but it made me grumpy. I made a point of showing any would look just what a huge sacrifice this was. I did not have my worship on. I looked more like Oscar the Grouch.

I decided to do a good job even though I knew it would lessen my personal worship experience. I tried to think instead of how I was helping others to have a better experience. I worked up a self-righteousness that fit nicely with my sour disposition.

Once the singing began I had a rough start. I fumbled with the computer keyboard and did not get smooth until the end of the second song. Inside I was feeling nothing, just as I expected, but I sang loud just to prime the soul’s pump. It helped. For a few moments I joined in the melody and noise of the worship. Then there fell a pause on the crowd. Usually at a time like this it is often appropriate for one to give a message in tongues with interpretation or a prophesy.

I decided to prophesy. I said: “Desiring a home is not just a human or earthy feeling. Desiring home is an eternal, heavenly desire. I stand outside your door and knock. Let me in. Enthrone me in your heart. Let me come home.” The message, of course, is as ancient as the Garden of Eden where God would walk in the garden in the cool of the day looking for some company with his children.

I felt the comfort knowing that even in my reluctant state of mind God was searching for me. I came to church searching for him and when given the chore of working the Power Point to display the lyrics I grumbled inside myself thinking this distraction would cause me to miss fellowship with the LORD. Instead, I discovered that even if I miss him he is still looking for me.

Go Wash

 

“I am” in the Biblical sense is a name or a reference to divinity. It is a modern Anglicization of the ancient Hebrew word Yahweh. We know the great “I am” would refer to God, but is there a little “I am”? A man healed of blindness in the story in John 9: 1-41 answered a question with the phrase, “I am.” This claim on another level may be a reference to the same divinity. In that we are created in the image of God can we use this language to reflect this image? It may well be within the framework of our ancient faith to enable us to connect to the very reality of God behind the image.

As Jesus passed by he saw a man blind from birth. . . . Jesus answered . . . “We have to do the works of the one who sent me while it is day.” . . . When he has said this, he spat on the ground and made clay with the saliva, and smeared the clay on his eyes, and said to him, “Go wash . . . “(and he) came back able to see. . . . His neighbors said, “Is this the one who used to sit and beg”” . . . “I am.” . . . Now the Jews did not believe that he had been blind and gained his sight . . . . They threw him out (of Temple). When Jesus heard that they had thrown him out, he found him and said, “Do you believe in the Son of Man?” . . . “I do believe Lord.” . . . Then Jesus said, “I came into this world for judgement, so that those who do not see might see, and those who do see might become blind.” John 9: 1-41 NABRE

By the use of the phrase “I am” we could say that after the blind man was touched by Jesus he became like Jesus. He could see. He sounded like Jesus, i.e., “I am.” He was rejected by those who could not accept the change.

When Jesus sees the blind man, he says, “While I am in the world, I am the light of the world.” Once the blind man is healed, the people ask, “Isn’t this the one who used to sit and beg?” Why are they doubtful? Are they betraying their own blindness? They see the physical appearance of their formerly blind neighbor but they cannot recognize him after he has been touched by the Master. The blind man answers using words that Christ uses of himself; he says, “I am.” Is this a coincidence? The man born blind “so that the works of God might be made visible through him.” Now that God has worked in him he can recognize in himself that he is a God-bearer. Light has produced in him goodness and righteousness and truth. The Light who is Christ produces goodness in us by which we come to resemble Christ himself. We beg for the ability to look into the heart of each person we meet and to see reality the way God does.

The man born blind discovered that living by the light can draw down upon us the wrath of those who prefer to live in darkness. The most blinding of temptations can be to appease those we respect or love rather than obey the will of God.

Arise from the dead, and Christ will give you light.

I Write

 

I write. I write regularly. Sometimes, I write well, with style and color. I embrace the work of writing as a gift from God. With this work I want to honor God and all that is holy. I want to bless, help, encourage and entertain people with my perspective, my understanding and faith, experiences and humor. In prayer today, this Ash Wednesday, I was praying through this special day’s office – liturgical prayers of repentance, praise of God’s eternality and my confrontation with my ephemeral transitory self. I recalled as praying how I would often give my little girls crayons and paper to keep them busy and entertained while I did my chores around the house. I found a parallel in God’s giving me a pen, my paper just to keep me busy, quiet and encouraged that I have also important work to do. Then I thought, are these words destined for the temporary display of praise, as I once praised my girls and complimented their work and made room for them on my refrigerator door. And so, it occurs to me this Ash Wednesday that I who come from dust and will return to dust offer to his glory, my life and my work. My faith gifts as notable and substantial as a child’s hurried scrawl in crayon. And, I am comforted to know that even though my flesh, my thoughts and my work may be light as dust in the air, God’s love for me and his hold on me is not. My work may keep me busy but his love and his purpose and the integrity of his promise give my being the weight of eternity and the brilliance of the shining of his love reflected on living waters.

A Close Moment

~by Louis Templeman

 

This morning I was sitting in my chair quietly thinking about the Wednesday men’s group I was going to in a few hours where the question that starts the after lunch discussion is, “Did you have a close moment this week?” This is a Cursillo grouping and if done correctly is rather formulated. We are not formal types and the only clue that we are a Cursillo grouping is this particular question – and I might say is my favorite question from the instructions that tell us how to carry on properly. I knew that question would come up and I wanted a response that would benefit me as well as the other four that meet with me.

I joined this group five years ago and my presence made it three men. Bill was sick and distracted with other interests and then it was only Father Tom and I for two years. Tom had a medical issue for six months and could not drive so for that time I would pick him up and carry us to St. Mark’s Episcopal where we joined other seniors for a weekly lunch and grouped afterwards. Many, many times I would sit with Tom afterwards in the library where we would talk – well, I would talk, sometimes confessional level personal issues and the precious Father, my very good friend, would fall asleep on me. Tom has sleep apnea. He has told me he has more than once fallen asleep at a red light. So the grouping for the two of us was often like this: Father Tom, I am having personal problems. Life is hard; I have bills I can’t meet; sometimes I feel insignificant and like nobody wants to talk to me . . . “. And Tom would say, “Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.”

So, that and my status as a newlywed led me to bow out, for a year or so. But now there are five and it is much better. A fellow named Joe is with us. He tells me he spent 30 years in a Florida prison. He seems happy enough but he has lifetime parole and that will sting eventually. Nevertheless, it will always be an improvement over life in lock-up

Well, the discussion got side tracked to cover the Civil War and the various generals and major players. Eventually, I asked if I could share my close moment. This got their attention. These are smart men and they have wide interests and are well read but they were glad to return to the point of the meeting, which is about living the Christian life with joy, consistency and service.

So I said something like: “I think I had a special time with the LORD, but you can judge for yourself. You may decide I was really with someone else, so let me know. To preface it I need to say I was looking over some of my notes and journals of my spiritual, inner adventures. There was a period in my past when I was more satisfied with my prayer life and my life of faith in general. I was reading some of the journals, jottings, poems and even notations in books I have and began to wonder who in the world wrote that stuff. I liked that guy. By comparison I feel I am weighted down in lethargy or sloth. I was slipping over the edge into self-condemnation. As I sat in my chair this morning I felt a bit guilty and I got quiet. I tend to let my imagination go as if I am offering an erased chalk board for the Holy Spirit to write on, or do squiggles if he wills, I let go and try not to talk to myself.

Clarity came to me. If I were to put it into words, which it wasn’t really, I would say it was “Don’t be so hard on yourself. You are you right now. You had a different life then with different stressors, different expectations, and a new set of duties and relationships. I’m the Savior. You can’t save yourself or even be that good all by yourself. It is on me. I’ll keep you. I am still with you. In the past five years you have , watched your father die, watch your wife die, had one relative try to defraud you of a sizable portion of money, and more besides. You have also bought a home, married the love of your life and have recently received a diagnosis of Parkinson’s Disease. Take it easy. Trust. We’ll get through it all together.”

I know I am making God sound like a wind bag but it wasn’t like that. I need all those words to express the peace and relief I felt at that moment of silence in my morning quiet time.

So, I offered that to the men and did not know what to expect, but I was gently surprised by their positive reaction. The consensus was the guilt that helps you correct your bad behavior is good but a lot of guilt is inappropriate and not at all a needful part of a healthy mind. Thomas Keating knows this feeling and has this to say:

Take and accept yourself just as you are, where you are. Let God work with your faults and limitations. Just recognize them and be with them, without trying to correct them directly. As you watch them, feel them, and accept them, their force and exaggeration will gradually diminish. Keep moving to the center of your being where divine love is and be present to and welcome whatever bodily feeling or emotion that is happening. The present moment contains all we need to be happy.

And, since my favorite divine promise is, “I’ll never leave you,” my present moments do have all I need to be happy.

 

 

 

 

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A Homeless Man’s Sign

 

~by Louis Templeman

 

His disheveled hair crowned his head like a fright wig or like pine needles carelessly raked in the wind. I could see his eyes, pools of fear and frustration. His clothes needed to be tossed into a burn barrel. He stood apart from the other bus riders who hung closer together near the Plexiglas shelter on the corner. He was watching the passing cars. I doubted he was waiting for a bus. His dress easily categorized him as someone with no place to go and someone who would have to look far and wide to find welcome.

It was hard for me not to look at him. I felt like a rubbernecker at a wreck on the highway. I also felt ashamed at my thoughts towards him. In my life I have been a pastor, a social worker, a volunteer prison minister and spent many years as an active member in an inner city mission. I have seen and interacted with many men and women who were draped in raggedy clothes; who peered through vacant eyes that pooled in hunger and who were quick to beg for food, beer, cash or attention. I have never been able to help anyone in that condition make positive life style changes. Acts of kindness would only put me in the register of those who were an easy touch. Nevertheless, I believe kindness and generosity should mark the steps of a person of faith.

I only had a twenty dollar bill on me and that would have to do me until my retirement check showed up in my credit union account in a few days. I was mystified at my reaction to his presence. I would avoid his eyes but still look at him if possible. Seems silly now to recall the anxiety I felt.

I noticed his cardboard sign was extended at arm’s length, as if to indicate that his message was important. He aimed his gaze at each passing car and held the sign perpendicular to the front seats. He had a message. So, I decided to sneak a peek at it as I passed him. The light was green so I was able to cruise past without stopping beside him. As I passed I looked at his sign.

It stood out in bold relief, as if the man that held the sign faded away and became a post. The sign was fresh and not soiled at all. The sun was reflecting of its shiny surface. One quick look and I turned toward the on-ramp to I 95. As I sped up to the flow of traffic and eased in to the northbound stretch of highway I could not get his sign out of my head. It was completely blank. Empty of words, but profound in meaning.

In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groans that words cannot express. Romans 8: 26.

I do not know what the homeless man was saying. I don’t know that he had adequate insight to figure it out. For all I know he may have been holding the sign backwards. I do know the message his powerful display had for me. In my frailty, my wrong doing, my penchant for selfishness and immorality I often find my prayer time in a similar state. I stand before God in helplessness knowing that only his mercy can recommend me to him. Spiritually I am a ragamuffin; poor hygiene, disheveled, dressed in dirty clothes. I cannot think of anyway to impress him. I do not know how to call his attention away from more important people and truly beautiful lives to give me the time of day. I stand before him with my sign without words, with hungry eyes and my fear of failing and coming up short.

I find the words of the Roman Centurion in Luke 7: 6, 7 particularly close to my heart, “Lord, don’t trouble yourself, for I do not deserve to have you come under my roof.” And, also those of the tax collector in Luke 18: 13, “. . . the tax collector stood at a distance. He would not even look up to heaven, but beat his breast and said, ‘God have mercy on me, a sinner.’” Without the mercy I find in Jesus I am in much, much worse shape than my homeless man with his sign. It was good for me to encounter this strange experience. I am convinced that at those times when my prayers are as wordless sighs that the Spirit is there. I am not alone. He will supply the words.

 

 

 

 

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Getting the Most from Life

by Louis Templeman

 

Genesis 3 : 8 – And they heard the sound of the Lord God walking in the garden in the cool of the day. . . the presence of the Lord God among the trees of the garden (ESV).

The only way to get the best out of life is to be deeply and sincerely grateful for it. And, the truly grateful are always generous. They do not become storage tanks for life’s riches – love, joy, adventure, peace, relationships, worship, healthy goals and honest work. Instead they become conduits and allow the riches of life which they enjoy to pass on through them. Indeed, they find themselves richer when they reach out and enrich others.

Adam and Eve lost the virtue of gratitude which was unfortunately replaced with the empty and dissatisfying liabilities of selfishness, greed and fear. They had a bird in the hand, so to speak, but they wanted the two in the bush. They let go of true riches and gambled on a dreary misguided scheme. It boiled down to a tragic loss of gratitude. The allurement of pleasure also tripped them up. They looked at what was forbidden them and found it a “delight to the eyes” (v. 6).

They left off gratitude for the beauty and joy abundantly provided, decided God was a miser and moved to enrich themselves by their own designs. This, as you may remember, led to their expulsion from paradise where they lost the riches God intended for them and faced a do-it-yourself life in a new world which would resist their pursuit of a happy and meaningful life.

We find this primordial couple in a pristine garden with a virtual rulership over all. And, to top it off, every day they enjoyed a walk with God “in the cool of the day”. Due to believing a seductive lie, that their God was being stingy and withholding even greater riches from them, this couple decided they knew better than their Creator.

Every generation of humanity faces the same challenge. We need a proper, even revelatory, understanding of what riches really are. A few of life’s underrated values which were tossed away in Eden were relationships, freedom from shame, contentment and an easy comfortable daily fellowship with God. This daily fellowship with God is the heart of this treasure. Gratitude will keep you aware of your wealth and generosities will make you richer.

 

 

 

 

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Goodbye Bob

~by Louis Templeman

 

When I walked out the front door with your breakfast in hand I wasn’t surprised when you did not greet me as you usually do. My neighbor’s hunting dogs were running loose and had awakened me around 3:00 a.m. It was so quick. Their low, hollow barks circled around my home and were gone. When I could not find you in your usual places I felt a pang in the pit of my stomach, “They got you. Oh Bob, I’m so sorry.” Although I felt sure I had lost you I kept looking for a week or so.

I was so angry at those dogs I wanted to catch them and hurt them. In just two months I’d lost two of my three cats. I assume Jet went the same way. I could employ wishful thinking in my grieving over Jet. He was so friendly and charming he could have adopted a new owner and moved on to better digs. But you Bob were so traumatized as a kitten you were a bit feral. With your lame right front paw you were at a disadvantage if ever you needed to run.

I remember when you introduced yourself to me. I was in another house. You were under a tropical plant that was slowly creeping its way around the back yard. As soon as I looked at you, you hissed. After I fed the other cats I walked out to you with some dry food in a bowl. You posed as if to flee, so I stopped while continuing to make little clucking sounds through my teeth. I set the bowl down about fifteen feet away from you. Then I gathered the other pets, all overfed and nosey, and put them in the house so you could have a chance to inspect my offering.

You and I repeated that scenario for several weeks before you came close enough for me to pet you. It took some courage for me to trust you, and vice versa I suppose. A couple more weeks and you became comfortable with me. You stayed pretty cranky so I thought you must be in pain. Once you became calm enough with me that you’d let me pick you up and put you in a carrier I got you to the vet who found an abscessed tooth which she removed. She guessed that your lame leg came from rough treatment when you were an unwanted kitten.

You never warmed up to the other cats, always the grouch, but you slowly became an affectionate little buddy to me. It was almost a year before you crawled up into my lap. It was then I first heard you purr. Once the bank took my house and made me move I had no place to care for you and your fellows. It took me almost four months to find a place that would fit us and my temporary housing could not accommodate any of you, so I was happy to visit all of you first thing every morning and again every day after work and make sure you had food and water; and your monthly flea treatment.

Once I got our new place in good enough shape for me to put a bed in it I picked you up and your two step-brothers and brought you home. I was able to keep you three in a bedroom for a week to acclimate you to the new surroundings before I let you outside. But, once I did it was beautiful. The front porch became your domain. Nearly every morning you would wait for me perched on the 2 x 6 railing. It was wide enough for you to nap on. You always found a way to be comfortable.

By then you had become people friendly and easily stole the hearts of nearly every visitor. If ever a visitor’s hand got near the table or the railing you would jump up and rub against them, inviting them to scratch your head. I don’t know that any refused. It was a slow process but you became born-again from feral scaredy cat to Mr. Personality. But still, you had nothing but hisses and disrespect for my two black twins, Jet and Flo. And, when you made it too difficult for them to ignore you, they would snarl, attack and run you off.

My mother was at our visit to the veterinarian’s office with me and insisted on paying for your care. When they asked me for your name I realized I had not settled on one. Since you looked like a little bobcat, Bob became your name and since your benefactor’s name was Shelton, I completed the name as Bob Shelton. Everyone chuckled and thought that was an unusual name for a cat, but to me it was a close fit.

It is hard for me to think how I admitted you to such a violent world. You were a victim of violence before we met and in the end, again a victim. Out here in this semi-rural neighborhood I have witnessed moments of violence. Twice I rescued a bird from Jet’s claws. And, a week after you were gone I witnessed a red hawk pouncing on a finch through my kitchen window. The other birds, scared but lucky, flurried off to safety as in a choreographed leap of fright. The hawk had to pause a moment to recover from his sudden stop where it appeared he crashed into the yard as he landed on his trembling prey. He then flew off with the little finch in his fisted talons.

I thought I was being strong regarding your sudden departure until I spoke of it to my mother. I said, “I’ve got bad news, Mom. Bob’s gone.” She wanted to know, Bob who? It was then a flood of tears gushed out with my short little requiem, “Bob Shelton, my cat.” That’s when I really knew my heart was broken. It grieves me that violence is such a mainstay of today’s world, both yours and mine. When I consider how we both came from the same creative fatherhood I feel we must share a common hope. For we know that the whole creation groaneth and travaileth in pain together until now. (Romans 8: 22 ASV).

In this strange, often violent world that we live in there has to be a hope to get us through such grief. And, I think God has provided just that. I see it particularly in St. Paul’s words, “For the creation was subjected to vanity, not of its own will, but by reason of him who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself also shall be delivered from the bondage of corruption into the liberty of the glory of the children of God” (Romans 8: 20 – 21).

My black cat Flo is alone now. He was traumatized at Jet’s departure. It took him a week or so to get back to normal. Flo does not seem to miss you. However, I do. I will cherish your photos and memories. We were good for each other. You are up there with God waiting on me, keep the light on. I’ll get there eventually.

 

 

 

 

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