Harvest and Election Signs: A Midwest Pick-em-up Truck Drive Musing

 Yesterday, after spending most of the week in Zoom meetings for board's I serve on, I needed to get out from in front of a computer screen. So I told Nancy I was going to fire up the pick-up truck and head out for a ride. "Wanna go with?" She did and so off we went on the backroads -- Gasburg Road, Joppa Road, Bunker Hill Road, and many more.

We didn't talk much -- mostly just looked at fields that had been harvested, that needed harvesting, and were being harvested. We saw big combines working their way across cornfields, trailing clouds of dust and spewing field trash. We witnessed other combines, their wide corn or bean heads removed, maneuvering along the narrow country roads, cars and trucks scooting as far over as they could without tumbling into a ditch, as they moved from one field to the next.

We also saw the risings and fallings of the supposedly flat Indiana farmland that was revealed in the freshly picked fields. We drove through woods being stripped of leaves by cooler temps and the yesterday's blustery winds. The yellow, gold, and red leaves that once adorned the trees now spread like a carpet at their feet, while their arm-like limbs reached up into the sky.

Around every bend, we encountered yard signs promoting this candidate or that one. Looking at them, I remembered something that our granddaughter Alexis posted recently. According to her poll of yard signs, Joe Biden was going to place third in the Hoosier state's voting for president behind Trump and Firewood for Sale.

That was a good joke, I thought. And from our informal survey on our drive, looked to be true. 

The election will be over shortly, one way or another. And I, for one, will be happy to see the signs (regardless of candidate) come down. I will be even more glad to see the political ads disappear from the airwaves and interwebs. People send me, via messages and posts and tweets, things that vilify the candidate they don't like. I'm sick of it. I'm also weary of the increasingly negative attacks of candidates on each other. If I wasn't a pacifistic Quaker, after watching the ads and reading the memes, I'd be for taking all these horrible people out and shooting them. After all, according to the ads and memes there is not one good person running for office. And where these used to mostly be about higher offices (which is odd) now they've trickled down to the state, county, and city offices. Yesterday there was an ad on television saying how Peorgie Tirebinder, who is running for county dogcatcher, had been taking kickbacks from Purina Pet Chow and Pet Armor Flea and Tick Treatment to finance his condo in Florida.

Okay, I made that last little bit up.

As I sat in silence in Quaker worship this morning, I thought about some of what I've just written. Not a good way to center down into listening for God's voice -- except it was. Because I did hear a voice reminding me that on November 4, the signs and ads will be gone -- except for the "Firewood For Sale" ones. And that's a good sign. It connects us with the daily that goes on and on. Firewood, for some people will still be needed -- and it will be available. Those signs are a constant in rural Indiana ... and other states.

I was also reminded that there is another constant. The God of grace and God of glory. The God who is transcendent and immanent. The God who is Light, and Love, and Truth, and who promises never leave or forsake us. The God who is the Great Lover of Our Souls and warms them with a holy fire and lights our way forward. 

We could use a few signs for that. 

Spiderwebs On My Face: Another Midwest Musing

 

Almost every day, sometimes twice a day, Nancy and I climb into our utility cart and go for a ride on the trails around and through our woods and prairie. We used to go for walks, but since Nancy's stroke last March that's just not possible anymore. Yet, she enjoys and wants to experience the trees, the tall grasses, the wildflowers, the glimpses of wild turkeys, deer, coyotes, beaver, groundhogs, coyotes, and more. 

So I help her up into the cart and off we go at a pace similar to that we used to walk. Up and down paths wide and narrow, bumpy and smooth. Always watching for a new seasonal wildflower, a hawk, a scurrying skunk.

One thing we always forget to watch for -- and indeed is hard to watch for -- are spiderwebs.

I hate spiders. Have since I was little kid. It's must be a genetic hate -- Grandma Bill hated them, too. With a passionate hate. One time she called my grandad to come get rid of one in their bedroom. He'd been at the kitchen table cleaning his pump action 12 gauge shotgun and arrived in their room carrying it. "Lew, get rid of that spider!" grandma demanded. "How?" "You have a gun," she shouted. "Use it if you must." And then stormed out the room. 

Of course, he didn't. Use the gun that is. But it's always made a good family story.

But back to spiderwebs and utility cart rides. 

At least once on every ride, we run, usually face first (our cart is pretty simple -- no windshield) into a spider web. Nancy is generally pretty calm and just wipes it away. I am frantic, certain that the spider, probably a black widow or brown recluse, has scampered off the web and is at that very moment working its way down the collar of my shirt and under my t-shirt looking for a place to bite me. Probably my fat belly.

After the brushing and me smacking areas on my shirt where I think the poisonous pest might have taken up residence, I step on the accelerator and we inch off down the trail. And run into another web.

Sigh.

These head on collisions with spiderwebs have left me pondering though the persistence of these creatures. I can imagine, sort of, making a web that is goes across a six foot wide windy path in the woods, but bridging one that is twelve to fifteen feet wide? How do they do that? 

Now I don't really care what the answer is -- learning how they do that is not that important to me. What is important is that they do it at all and the work that goes into it. And the ancillary fact that the same place I drive through today and run into a spiderweb may find another there tomorrow. Ambitious little arachnids -- God's creations doing what they were created to do. In the face of politics, division, war, pandemic. Oh wait, could that stuff only matter to us people who seem too often to do that which is other than what we were created to do.

In the midst of my musings, I picked up a book of Jane Tyson Clement's poems. And, in the mysterious ways the Divine teaches me, came across her poem "The Spider"

I watch the spider fling

its most improbable thread ―
from aspen limb to birch
and back again.

 

So do we fling our faith

from star to star
and under God’s eternal, watching care
the perfect orb
will come.

Now I'm still no big fan of spiders. But I'm happy for the lesson they are teaching me -- to be true to my nature as one of God's beloved creatures. 

To do the work I'm called to do. 

To trust in the Lord. 

To know it will be enough. 

Red and Yellow Black and White, They are Precious in His Sight, part 3: The Humble Stumble

"Don’t look at me in that tone of voice.” If I had a five dollar bill for every time I’ve heard Nancy say that to me, well, I’d have a lot of five dollar bills. Looking at her in that tone of voice is one of my failings – it’s a look that conveys irritation, exasperation, and frustration. A look nobody should get. Especially someone I love. Especially someone who I can easily (well, most of the time anyhow) see that of God in.

So, before taking on seeing that of God in everyone in the entire world, it might be good for me to practice at home. After all, if I can’t see it there, chances are I’m not going to be able see it in some white supremacist or Islamic jihadist. Especially since I find both of those types really annoying and just plain wrong in their views.

Well, maybe seeing God in a white supremacist or Islamic jihadist would be easier. After all, they are examples of people Iwill most likely not run into often. Or have to live with. They are abstractions to most of us. Wheareas our spouses, kids, neighbors, coworkers and other regular contacts are people that inhabit our lives with all their imperfections.

Yes, imperfections. The idea of looking for that of God in everyone doesn’t deny that the people in whom God dwells are imperfect. They’re human, too! Just like we are. Imperfect. Just like we are.

The first step in seeing that of God in anyone is seeing them as fully human as we see ourselves. And accepting them in that humanity. they are trying to live up to the leadings of God (even if they don’t call it by that name) as we are. Being a horrible human being is rarely on anybody’s agenda. “I think I’ll get up today and be a real son of a bitch,” said no one ever. They may have gotten up and acted like a real son of bitch – but rarely, in their thinking, were they one. They had their reasons for doing the things they did. Fully justifiable (in their minds and hearts) for doing them. Hmmm, just like I me!

Part of the reason for looking for that of God in others is that whole love thing. It is really hard for me to be hateful to someone I love. No matter how good a mad I’ve got on. So long as I look at someone through the eyes of “the mad”, I can keep that hate heat banked and smoldering for quite a while. And I don’t really “look” at them anyhoo. I look all around them. Above them, below them, beside them. But not into their eyes. When I look into their eyes, I begin to look into their soul, their eyes being the window of their soul, as Shakespeare said. When I look into their soul, that’s when I see that of God there – loving them, guiding them,

Another reason is to be able to call them into living up to it. In the same way we do ourselves. As we pay attention to promptings of God within our hearts and souls, we begin to live more fully into Spirit’s presence. We know that it sometimes helps to have someone help us by reminding us, too. Like when I’m at work and say something completely outrageous that is not quite true and my good friend Deborah cocks her head and gives me a look that says, “Really? Really??” Sigh, no, not really. I could be a little more careful with the truth.

There are two things that I’ve learned that help me see that of God in others.

• Making caring for others a daily practice. I come first. I am the center of my universe. Except, of course, I’m not. I need to balance my needs and wants with those of others – especially those others I spend lots of time with. As I care for people, they become less abstract and more real as children of God, worthy of the love, respect, and care I desire for myself. And by being kind, I model the deep, deep love of God.
• Practicing gratitude – being thankful for the people who share life with me, helps me see God’s providing, watchful care over me. God has blessed me with these people in my life. All of them. I can whine about the annoying ones (and shut down God’s promptings of love in my own live) or I can be grateful for the gift of life and its varied experiences. Wow, that sounds pretty Jack Handy-ish, doesn’t it! But it’s true. Studies show that people who are in the habit of expressing gratitude are more likely to be helpful, generous, compassionate, and forgiving—and they’re also more likely to be happy and healthy. Wow, seeing that of God in others has health benefits?? Who knew!

Paying Attention in Love: A Spiritual Exercise

We start using our senses to experience the presence of God around us when we learn to pay attention in love to our surroundings, the spots where we live. Though it is in God that we live and move and have our being, it is in very specific places like our homes, offices, farms, schools and the like where we actually live and move and are being. Take a few minutes now and look around.

· What do you see?

· What do you smell?

· What do you hear?

· What do you taste?

· What do you feel?

Grab a piece of paper (or a scrap of napkin, computer keyboard, or journal) and write down your answers.

This is a simple step, but it is the first step in learning to pay attention. Seeing God at work and play around us, however, involves more than merely paying attention. Seeing God means coupling our attention with love.

There are miracles all around us. They seem hidden because we do not see them, cloaked as they are in the ordinary. It takes the combination of attention and love to notice them.

When we combine attention and love, we move to a new level of noticing. Love and attention give us a deep, clear look at God everywhere around us. So, with the thought of paying attention in love, slow your breathing, quiet your mind and calm your heart. Now, take a fresh look around, with attention and love.

· What do you see?

· What do you smell?

· What do you hear?

· What do you taste?

· What do you feel?

When you’re finished, write down your answers and compare them to what you wrote earlier. How are they similar? How are they different? How did you catch a glimpse or whiff or touch of the Divine?

-- adapted from "Awaken Your Senses: Exercises for Exploring the Wonder of God"

30 Days of Smell -- Sunscreen

In Tropical climes there are certain times of day

When all the citizens retire to take their clothes off and perspire

It's one of those rules the greatest fools obey

Because the Sun is far too sultry and one must avoid its ultry-violet rays

The natives grieve when the White Men leave their huts

Because they're obviously....definitely....Nuts!

Mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun

-- Noel Coward, "Mad Dogs and Englishman"

Well, I am neither truly a mad dog or an Englishman (though the latter is my heritage -- and some wonder about the first), but I am in the tropical climes (sort of) and while I did take my clothes of and perspire, I took them off to put on a pair of bathing trunks and head out to the ocean side in the midday sun.

The water was refreshing but I am, as my good doctor put it, blessed with northern European fair skin, and so after a very short while, the scent of burning flesh accosted my nostrils. Okay, it was not quite that drastic, but noticed my shoulders felt a little warm. So I scrambled up out of the water and headed to my beach chair where I'd stashed my SPF4,000 sunscreen.

A little girl started crying when she saw me. "Mommy, what is that bleached white thing running up the sand?" she moaned, pointing. "Don't be afraid, darling," I heard the mother comfort her, "it's just Moby Brent, the great white whaleman."

Reaching my chair, I dried off and slathered the sunscreen on. It smells the same to me as it always did and brought back memories of being the whitest kid at Westview Swim Club in Columbus, Ohio. "The Amazing Brently -- The Boy Who Will Not Tan."

The few times I tried to tan, I ended up being badly sunburned. The sunburn then turned into a giant skin flakes until I looked like a reptile shedding his skin. While others tan as brown as a berry, I burn bright as a cherry. Not at all an attractive look.

So the scent of sunscreen soon came to mean safety from sunburn to me. A welcome smell of protection. Dowsing myself with sunscreen means I can go play in the ocean or spend hours at the holy game of golf and come home with my skin moisturized and as cadaverously white as when I left.

I also thought about other sun protection I have. Found in the Bible. Psalm 121:6 to be exact. "The sun will not smite thee by day..." King James Version. Ya just gotta love the idea of the sun not smiting. And why won't I be smitten? Because, "The LORD shall preserve thee..."

Ah, the ultimate sunscreen.

Okay, that may seem a bit of a stretch ... to go from the virtues of Coppertone Sport SPF 30 to the watchfulness of the Lord, but that's how a kid who grew up reading and memorizing the Bible thinks as an adult. I'm Bible-haunted and my life -- including sunscreen -- reminds me of verses.

I don't think that's a bad thing. Especially when I need protection from the sun -- and a number of other sorts of things, too.

Now, I have given up the idea that, even as buff as my body is, strolling the beach will ever get me longing glances, amazed at the rock hard abs and my deep dark tan and my full head of beached hair blowing in the breeze. Instead, I am an almost 60 year old white man who, if he wants to live until his 70s or 80s needs to cover up. And besides, it's fun to scare little kids occasionally.

-- Brent

Quaker Wisdom for Today

"Without the love of God the command to love our neighbor is a monstrous sarcasm, the imposition on mankind of impossible conflict between the moral sense and the will."

-- Kenneth Boulding

Quaker Wisdom for Today

"Do you want to know whether a group is part of the true church? Very well, note whether they love each other; note whether their hearts are quickened by the love of the Living God; note whether they show that they have the mind of Christ in them. No other credentials are needed."

-- D. Elton Trueblood

30 Days of Touch -- Clean Sheets

I haven't touched them much yet, but I am anticipating the feel of freshly laundered bed linens on my old skin tonight. This morning when I left, Nancy was stripping the bed. Tonight I helped her remake it with sheets just out of the dryer.

Now I know it's no big deal. Making the bed is hardly a monumental event. But still, in a little more than an hour, I'll be ditching my khakis, warm sweater, and slippers and, book in hand, be sliding between those fresh smelling, crisp clean sheets. Ah! That will feel good. To be enveloped with cleanness, freshness, and a feeling of safety that comes with drifting off to sleep with a good book and in my own bed.

I don't think there's anything in Bible that equates the love of God climbing between clean sheets. But, despite that lack, that's sort of how I thought about God's love as I anticipate doing so in a little while. An enveloping love -- safe, clean, fresh, pure. No desire other than to put me at ease and help me feel loved. Hmmm, if the canon is not closed, perhaps I could contribute a Psalm ...

Psalm 151

A song before retiring by Brent

The LORD is my clean-sheeted bed,

in God do I rest. He lays me down in love

as in fresh linens; as they sooth my my skin

He soothes my soul.

And, yea, though I go into the blessed sleep in

darkness, His Light and Love go with me

and comfort me.

And though worries do daily afflict me and at night

if they could they would assail me, this night

remembering God's encompassing love, I shall fear

no evil. Instead, I shall rest in

the bed that has been prepared for me; the bed of

God's love.

Selah.

Goodnight!

-- Brent

Love Still Takes the Risk of Birth

This is no time for a child to be born,
With the earth betrayed by war and hate
And a nova lighting the sky to warn
That time runs out and the sun burns late.

That was no time for a child to be born,
In a land in the crushing grip of Rome;
Honour and truth were trampled by scorn—
Yet here did the Saviour make his home.

When is the time for love to be born?
The inn is full on the planet earth,
And by greed and pride the sky is torn
Love still takes the risk of birth.

Madeleine L’Engle’s “The Risk of Birth”
copyright 1974 Madeleine L'Engle

I am grateful that Love still takes the risk of birth -- this Christmas and every day -- in the heart of God and the hearts of women and men everywhere.

With love,

Brent

Quaker Wisdom for Today

"We ... can send out the Eternal Love in silent, searching hope, and meet each person with a background of eternal expectations and a silent, wordless prayer of love."

-- Thomas R. Kelly

Quaker Wisdom for Today

"A religious awakening which does not awaken the sleeper to love has roused him in vain."

-- Jessamyn West

Taste and See -- Days 23-25

The tastes that have been most prominent have been those of autumn -- but not the ones you might expect. I'm not talking about cool apple cider sliding down my throat or pumpkin pie or any of those tastes. No, I'm talking about musty dampness, dryish sawdust, dank diesel fuel, fresh cut wild onions and...

Well, let me explain. About mid-week, the rain started to fall. And fall. And fall. And so no farm work got done in the evenings. But the weather people kept saying that the weekend would be great -- bright and sunny and cool. And the taste of anticipation of all the fall flavors I mentioned above was with me from Wednesday through Friday. And then came Saturday -- as brilliant as the prediction.

So I started by stacking firewood in the woodshed. Laying a fire in the fireplace has to be one of the supreme joys of the cool evenings. But wood is not clean -- especially when you're transferring it from a wood stack down the farm lane to the woodshed behind the house. Every pieces is lifted, tossed, unloaded, stacked -- while bazillions of wood fragments, old leaves, dry grass, and more float through the air and into your nose and mouth. So I tasted various flavors of trees -- oak, cherry, ash. Some dry, some dampish from all the rain. I saw various mice running for their lives as I dismantled their homes in the wood stack (not on purpose -- didn't know the exact addresses). The kittehs especially enjoyed that part -- they are Catholic cats and thus have no tendencies toward the Quaker peace testimony. So Grace and Ebony tasted meeses.

After the wood was stacked, it was time for the final mowing of the lower woods. We'd planted 3,000 trees down there about 4 springs ago and many are getting very tall. Still, to keep the weeds down -- and to give us paths to walk in -- I mow the rows. That's where the taste of diesel fuel and onions came in. I fueled the John Deere and as the fumes floated up from the tractor a few made their way into my mouth (I need to learn to breath with my mouth shut, I guess). Not unpleasant -- just a soupçon of its pungency. Then it was out into the woods, where, to the hint of diesel came fresh mowed grass and wild onion flavor. Also, a taste of black eyed Susan and purple coneflower. Each borne on the the wind as the bushhog mauled them into particles of minute portions.

I love these tastes -- earthy, real, tangible. They speak of stewardship and work and creation. Things which were noble concepts to me as few as seven years ago, but which have become part and parcel of my life since Nancy and I built Ploughshares and began planting trees and prairie. It still is a wonder to me how I ended up here -- a city fellow who thought by this age he'd be living in condo downtown in the arts district.

Yet here I am. Farmer Brent -- voted least likely to plow by his high school class! No, I'm not a "real" farmer -- no crops other than God's adorn these fields. But I "a charge to keep I have..." as the old hymn says. And part of that charge is taking care of that which I've been granted. Ah, 50 acres and fool -- God certainly has a sense of humor. Him planting me here with the crops reminded me of Jesus calling a bunch of fisherman and tax-collector types to be disciples -- to be the bearers of his gospel to the whole wide world. Not a one of them an expert in the field of God-telling.

While I wonder at it all, I am reminded of 1 Corinthians 1:27 -- "But God hath chosen the foolish things of the world to confound the wise; and God hath chosen the weak things of the world to confound the things which are mighty."

Foolish and weak and easily confounded, too, I am. But I enjoy the tastes of autumn -- they remind me of God.

-- Brent

Quaker Wisdom for Today

It is not necessary that we should know all mysteries before we begin to follow Christ. To some of us much that is taught of His person and His work may not yet be clear, but so it was with the early disciples. They did not understand at first the mystic union with their Master to which they were called, but they followed Him, and as the followed,there was gradually unfolded to them the fullness of His love and life. If we begin where they began, and follow and they followed, we shall end where they ended, in adoring love.

-- London Yearly Meeting, 1909

Hayride

There was a quarter moon outside our ten cent town two evenings ago when I arrived home. A good portion of the family had assembled for a bonfire -- and then they wanted to go on a hayride. So being the really good guy I am, I went to the barn, dropped the log-splitter off the tractor, and fire Mr. Deere up to go get the hay wagon. The sun was starting to set and it was a nice bouncy ride over the recently picked bean field and across the road back to Nancy's nephew's house where the wagon was. In a stroke of luck (not driving skill), actually backed the tractor perfectly to the wagon so that I all I had to do was pick up the tongue, slide it over the draw bar, drop the pin in and... viola' (as the French farmers say), I was good to go.

Arriving back at the bonfire, the sun had set, the embers were glowing, and hot dogs were roasting. After a truly unhealthy meal, it was time to set out on the hayride. To be lit or not lit (the tractor -- not me) was the question. Not much moon, some starlight, but there's just something about warning lights that takes the fun out of a hayride. So, I thought I'd try doing it in the dark -- steering my way around the field (and keeping out of the woods) by what little light God had provided.

It was enough. In fact, I was amazed how much light there was once we pulled away from the fire and my eyes adjusted to the night. I could easily pick out the woods from the field and indeed saw variations of soil in the field that I had never noticed before in the daylight. The sandier soil shone different in the starlight than did the more clay-laden and the loamy (all words that didn't mean much to me just a few years ago). It was even easy to pick out Zeus the big black dog running back and forth in front of the tractor or zipping off into the woods in pursuit of Ebony our black cat.

It reminded me, that when things seem pretty dark, we often are given more light than we realize at first glance. We -- I -- tend to curse the darkness instead of stepping out into the light that is there. Driving that night in the dark reminded me that God gives me the light I need to make my way. Regardless of my life being in the daytime or feeling beset by nighttime. The secret to successfully navigating by the little light the other night was to give my eyes time to adjust to their perceived lack of light -- and to go slow. I geared the tractor down and moved along at a speed appropriate to the conditions.

It was a reminder I needed.

-- Brent

All The News

For the purpose of being alone and still before God, you might want to make a regular, non-negotiable place in your schedule. Maybe that’s early in the morning. It wouldn’t be for me. I hate getting up. But Nancy loves it. At home, when possible, she practices garden silence – sweet communion with God’s growing things. Rufus Jones said, “We find Him when we enjoy beauty.” Here's a reading on that subject from Holy Silence: The Gift of Quaker Spirituality.

If you'd like to subscribe to these podcasts via i-Tunes, sign up for itpc://feeds.feedburner.com/blogspot/bGkY

Download this episode: http://www.brentbill.com/02AlltheNews.mp3

Enjoy--
Brent

Mr. Bean and the Love of God

Having just returned from vacation, Nancy and I picked a movie about vacations to watch the other night. It starred Rowan Atchinson as the hapless Mr. Bean -- someone Nancy introduced to me after discovering his comedy whilst flying over and back across the Atlantic ten years ago on her Grecian vacation.

This film is the usual combination of Bean -- very little dialogue on Atkinson's part ("Bean," is one of the few words he speaks, in his low, deep in his throat voice) and lots of sight gags. Poor Bean, the uptight Englishman in his brown shoes, brown pants, brown tweed jacket and white shirt, often gets into self-made messes, but just as often causes messes behind him of which he is rarely aware. It's a scream (I think) in the same way that the old-time silent comedies were.



The poor guy is so clueless and so accident prone that your heart just goes out to him. You can anticipate what's going to happen to him -- and then it does. And you shake your head and smile and keep hoping that something graceful will happen to or for him. Even though the mishaps that happen occur largely because he's trying to get away with something and doesn't want to acknowledge the consequences of his actions.

As I watched the film, from my third person omniscient point-of-view at home, I thought of God watching us, with that Divine first person omniscient view -- and it helped me see a fresh way of how God loves us. That is the loving, watchful, "oh no, what's he/she going to do now, I can't believe it, but I do believe it and..." look. There certainly has to be some kind of cosmic comedy behind some of the things we do and whilst I would not ever posit that God made us to watch us be funny, that has to be one of the side-benefits of watching over us. That's because, ultimately, for all his missteps and misfortune, Mr. Bean rarely comes to harm. Even from things he's caused. Minor scraps and scrapes to be sure, but in the end, all is well, all manner of things are well.

The same is true for us. Ultimately. Under the watchful care of God. Loving us and laughing, perhaps, at the same time. Especially at the things that we do to ourselves. There's the twinkle of Divine amusement that is buoyed by love eternal, all loves excelling.
-- Brent

Slaughter of the Innocence...

I've been reminded these past few sadness filled days following the shootings at Virginia Tech of the early Quaker George Fox's phrase, "I saw... that there was an ocean of darkness and death...." It certainly feels like that's true. The sheer horror of watching the aftereffects of desperate acts by a desperate man destroying life indiscriminately has been sad, sickening, and a host of other emotions all blended together in a bewildering mass of confusion. While the Indiana sky is clear blue and sunlight streams down, the world seems darker -- the joy of living and the goodness of creation somehow dimmed.

Which brings me to the second part of George Fox's quote -- "but [I also saw] an infinite ocean of light and love, which flowed over the ocean of darkness. In that also I saw the infinite love of God..."

This is a time to stand for this "infinite love of God" and remember Jesus' beatitude, "Blessed are the peacemakers for they shall be called the children of God." (Matthew 9:5). How can we bring peace -- to countries, to cities, to troubled young men and women? We need to be active in the cause of peace -- mourning without diminishment those students and faculty whose lives were tragically and unjustly cut short, but also praying for those whose desperation would cause them to commit such acts. Let us stand with people of faith and goodwill while praying and working actively for peace in the world and our own relationships.

It is time to remember that the God of all creation sustains our souls in the depths of tragedies and calls us his children as we work to bring peace -- that God is the source of an "infinite ocean of light and love" which will overcome the ocean of darkness.


--Brent