Exploring the creative fringes of Christianity and beyond
Valley of the Shadow of Death is a photograph by Roger Fenton, taken on April 23, 1855, during the Crimean War. It is one of the most well-known images of war.
Fenton observed, “in coming to a ravine called the valley of death, the sight passed all imagination: round shot and shell lay like a stream at the bottom of the hollow all the way down, you could not walk without treading upon them.”
But ask the animals, and they will teach you,or the birds in the sky, and they will tell you;or speak to the earth, and it will teach you,or let the fish in the sea inform you.Which of all these does not knowthat the hand of the Lord has done this?
God alone is enough
By Teresa of Avila
Let nothing upset you,
let nothing startle you.
All things pass;
God does not change.
Patience wins
all it seeks.
Whoever has God
lacks nothing:
God alone is enough.
When people say they find church boring, is it entertainment they’re lacking? Or challenge?
In his article, Amusing Ourselves To Death, Neil Postman said “I believe I am not mistaken in saying that Christianity is a demanding and serious religion. When it is delivered as easy and amusing, it is another kind of religion altogether.”
I find it interesting to consider this in light of what psychologist Mihály Csíkszentmihályi found about flow, also known as the zone. Csíkszentmihályi defined flow as a mental state in which a person performing an activity were fully immersed in what they’re doing, with energized focus, to the point that they can lose their sense of space and time. Ever experienced it? I certainly have. Though rarely in a church service. Well, what Csíkszentmihályi found was that flow kicked in when both challenge and skill levels were high. To experience flow we need challenges that are commensurate with our skill levels. Making it easy can actually be counter productive to experiencing life to its fullest.
Jesus never set his expectations so low. Why should we?
Summer and Winter
Dance joyfully around Earth
Singing YHWH’s song
Forget the former things;
do not dwell on the past.
See, I am doing a new thing!
Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?
I am making a way in the wilderness
and streams in the wasteland. (Isaiah 43:18)
This photograph of a fire devil in Portugal reminds me of the account from the book of Exodus where it is said, “By day the Lord went ahead of them in a pillar of cloud to guide them on their way and by night in a pillar of fire to give them light, so that they could travel by day or night.” Are you open to the possibility that, in attuning ourselves to the ways of the elements, God can still guide us through them today?
How to hide Jesus
There are people after Jesus.
They have seen the signs.
Quick, let’s hide Him.
Let’s think; carpenter,
fishermen’s friend,
disturber of religious comfort.
Let’s award Him a degree in theology,
a purple cassock
and a position of respect.
They’ll never think of looking here.
Let’s think;
His dialect may betray Him,
His tongue is of the masses.
Let’s teach Him Latin
and seventeenth century English,
they’ll never think of listening in.
Let’s think;
humble,
Man of Sorrows,
nowhere to lay His head.
We’ll build a house for Him,
somewhere away from the poor.
We’ll fill it with brass and silence.
It’s sure to throw them off.
There are people after Jesus.
Quick, let’s hide Him.
– Steve Turner
THE TREE FOR THE CROSS
by Colin Moffett
I stood in the forest growing so strong
From all of my companions I was numbered among
They picked me out as the rough barked tree
To crucify the Saviour of men on the hard wood of me
I felt each blow as they cut me down
Then pared of the branches of my leaf topped crown
And used one of them, the limbs of my loss
To nail it to my trunk and form me as a cross
They brought Jesus out with His thorn crowned head
The wounds of His body were dripping blood red
And they tossed me over His shoulder to carry me along
But they had abused Him so much He was no longer strong
He could not carry me but I carried His frame
For He was fixed to my trunk and they pinned on me His name
As they nailed His hands and feet I felt that I could
Feel His pain, for each nail through Him also pierced into my wood
Secured to my timber, they lifted us both high
And they stood back to mock and watch Jesus die
In the long dreadful hours so solemn and dark
I felt His poor body writhe on my bark
Its roughness I hated and wished it to be smooth
For I would have given anything His body to soothe
My sap mixed with His blood and sweat He was perspiring
And knew by His breathing His life was expiring
The trembling in His body slowly diminished
Then ceased all breathing for life was finished
The Saviour of sinners hanging dead on me
And I wished otherwise it could be
For I did not want to be the one
To carry on me God’s dear Son
But it was ordained that Jesus should die on a tree
And His blood that was spilled was spilled on me
The wood of my body is long since gone
A risen Saviour still lives on
When by coming to Jesus sinners can recover their loss
I am glad I played my part by being the tree for the cross
