Against Nothingness

Nightmare by William Schwenk Gilbert When you're lying awake with a dismal headache,      and repose is taboo'd by anxiety, I conceive you may use any language you choose to      indulge in without impropriety; For your brain is on fire - the bedclothes conspire of      usual slumber to plunder you: First your counterpane goes and uncovers your toes,       and your sheet slips demurely from under you; Then the blanketing tickles - you feel like mixed       pickles, so terribly sharp is the pricking, And you're hot, and you're cross, and you tumble       and toss till there's nothing 'twixt you and the ticking. Then the bedclothes all creep to the ground in a heap,       and you pick 'em all up in a tangle; Next your pillow resigns and politely declines to       remain at its usual angle! Well, you get some repose in the form of a doze, with      hot eyeballs and head ever aching, But your slumbering teems with such horrible dreams       t

I read sermons regularly. I enjoy it and I fancy that it improves my own preaching, though I suppose I must leave that verdict with my congregants. Regardless, I have oft been instructed well by pastors past and wish, on this occasion, to pass on one such worthwhile specimen.  Here, then, I humbly present to thee, most esteemed reader of mine, a sermon. A sermon which comes at the conclusion of a series on heaven.  The Justice and the Joy of Heaven by John Donne Justice : As it is said of old cosmographers, that when they had said all that they knew of a country and yet much more was to be said, they said that the rest of those countries were possessed with giants or witches or spirits or wild beasts, so that they could pierce no farther into that country; so when we have traveled as far as we can with safety, that is, as far as ancient or modern expositors lead us in the discovery of these new heavens and new earth, yet we must say at last that it is a country inhabited

The First Psalm      The man in life wherever placed,           Hath happiness in store,      Who walks not in the wicked's way,           Nor learns their guilty lore.       Nor from the seat of scornful pride           Casts forth his eyes abroad,      But with humility and awe           Still walks before his God.       That man shall flourish like the trees,           Which by the streamlets grow;      The fruitful top is spread on high,           And firm the root below.      Be he who blossoms buds in guilt,           Shall to the ground be cast,      And, like the rootless stubble, tost           before the sweeping blast.      For why? that God the good adore           Hath given them peace and rest,      But hath decreed that wicked men           Shall never be truly blest. 

McIntosh, Gary L. Arn, Charles. What Every Pastor Should Know: 101 Indispensable Rules of Thumb for Leading Your Church. Baker Books, 2013. What Every Pastor Should Know is just the reference book it sounds like. 101 rules of thumb divided into 15 sections covering such topics as evangelism, small groups, revitalization, and more. These rules of thumb, which McIntosh and Arn are very careful to offer with appropriate cautions in the introduction (all churches are different, these are just guidelines, etc.), are each given in four parts: the rule itself, a brief introduction, a longer explanation, and a set of practical suggestions.  Though the subtitle of this book indicates that the rules are about "leading" a church, it really should have read "growing" a church. This is not a criticism, merely a clarification. The rules offered here are very much a product of the church growth movement. Thus, the underlying assumption that leading church is really a

Cole, Arnie. Ross, Michael. Tempted, Tested, True: A Proven Path to Overcoming Soul-Robbing Choices. Bethany House Publishing, 2013.    Tempted, Tested, True is a book about overcoming temptations. Combining biblical insight with testimonies and stories from multiple sources Cole and Ross explore temptation from a number of different angles. There is a chapter on the life-cycle of temptation, a chapter on men and on women, and topics such as addiction, worry, and confession. Following each chapter is a "nudge." The "nudge" is a set of activities and reading divided into 'tempted' (questions to help you see your own situation), 'tested' (methods of overcoming these temptations), and 'true' (help to "customize a realistic 'change plan' you can apply to your life" [22]). The goal of this book is good. And there is some good content, especially in the 'nudge' sections. Encouraging people to m

Rios, Jeremy . Ordinary Prayer: Encountering God through our Everyday Needs . Jeremy Michael Rios, 2012.  Rios begins with two important truths:  1. The center of prayer is petition.  2.Petition is difficult.  From there he offers a  guide to, you guessed it, ordinary prayer. Petitionary prayer practiced daily over all of our needs, small to large, common and repeated or unique. His goal, his prayer, is that "as you read you will be led to put the book down and begin praying." What follows is a guide to understanding prayer, how to pray, how to understand God's answers, how to pray in groups, and more. And by guide I do not mean exhaustive step-by-step instruction manual. "Ordinary Prayer" and Rios, as the author, is more like a wilderness guide. He won't carry you up the mountain, but he will tell you which paths are fruitful, which rocks are firm, and point you to the views along the way. In other words Rios is not out to be prescriptive

Solitude by Ella Wheeler Wilcox Laugh, and the world laughs with you,      Weep, and you weep alone; For the sad old earth must borrow its mirth,      But has trouble enough of its own. Sing, and the hills will answer;      Sigh, it is lost on the air; The echoes bound to a joyful sound,      But shrink from voicing care. Rejoice, and men will seek you;      Grieve, and they turn and go; They want full measure of all your pleasure,      But they do not need your woe. Be glad, and your friends are many;      Be sad, and you lose them all, - There are none to decline your nectared wine,      But alone you must drink life's gall. Feast, and your halls are crowded;      Fast, and the world goes by. Succeed and give, and it helps you live,      But no man can help you die. For there is room in the halls of pleasure      For a large and lordly train, But one by one we must all file on      Through the narrow aisles of pain. 

Losing His Place by Andrew Demoline Rumbling ever onward go, The world shall never stop. Rumbling ever onward go, There is no place for off. No out, no way, no else; One place to spend your days. No far away, nor yonder, To ease the windy way. Rumbling ever onward go, We looked both far and near. Rumbling ever onward go, There seemed no place but here. No out, no way, no else; This giant wheel moves on. But what if we could step aside; Would life seize up, be done? We heard, we three, of one that did His story gives us hope We heard, we three, of one that's gone Could we to break this rope? He turned his head aside, Somehow the world turned too. He took just one small step, Somehow he made it through. We heard, we three of one that did, What happened to that man? We heard, we three, of one that's gone, But where could he have ran? We talked and stepped and tried, the world would not be skewed, Until we turned our heads just right, Then

Sometimes by Sheenagh Pugh Sometimes things don't go, after all, from bad to worse. Some years, muscadel faces down frost; green thrives; the crops don't fail, sometimes a man aims high, and all goes well.  A people sometimes will step back from war; elect an honest man; decide they care enough, that they can't leave some stranger poor.  Some men become what they were born for.  Sometimes our best efforts do not go  amiss; sometimes we do as we meant to.  The sun will sometimes melt a field of sorrow that seemed hard frozen: may it happen for you. 

O God, you are my God, earnestly I seek you;  For your steadfast love endures forever. My soul thirsts for you,  my body longs for you, in a dry and weary land where there is no water. Where there is, still, your steadfast love O Lord. I have seen you in the sanctuary  and beheld your power and your glory. Beholding your steadfast love. Because your love is better than life,  my lips will glorify you. For your steadfast love endures forever. I will praise you as long as I live,  and in your name I will lift up my hands. In your name, you who are Love. My soul will be satisfied as with the richest of foods;   Satisfied with your steadfast love. With singing lips my mouth will praise you. Praise you for your steadfast love. On my bed I remember you; I think of you through the watches of the night. For your steadfast love endures forever. Because you are my help,  I sing in the shadow of your wings. I sing of your steadfast love, which never leaves my side. My soul clings to you

Egg by: C.G. Hanzlicek I'm scrambling an egg for my daughter.  "Why are you always whistling?" she asks.  "Because I'm happy." And it's true, Though it stuns me to say it aloud, There was a time when I wouldn't Have seen it as my future.  It's partly a matter Of who is there to eat the egg: The self fallen out of love with itself Through the tedium of familiarity, Or this little self, So curious, so hungry, Who emerged from the woman I love, A woman who loves me in a way I've come to think I deserve, Now that it arrives from outside me. Everything changes, we're told, And now the changes are everywhere: The house with its morning light That fills me like a revelation, The yard with its trees That cast a bit more shade each summer, The love of a woman That both is and isn't confounding, And the love Of this clamor of questions at my waist. Clamor of questions, You clamor of answe

Psalm 119 By Andrew Demoline Always you are with me God But sometimes it is hard, Coming from the world I do, to ever get Down in your word, to trust or live at all. Even when I know it’s good, For your word always is, Going forth on your path Has ever been a pain. I want to have within me, even Just for one brief moment, Kindled in my heart, Love for you and your word. To have in Me an undivided soul, focused Now and onwards solely On your promise. To have the Psalmists trust in you, in Quiet and in song. Rarely am I persecuted, Seldom must I run, But in The face of difficulty, Under even hottest sun, Verily I ask thee, O lord of all my heart, When times like this do come, X-out all my fear and doubt, as You alone can do, and fill me with a Zest for all things that are true.

To Be of Use by Marge Piercy The people I love the best jump into work head first without dallying in the shallows and swim off with sure strokes almost out of sight. They seem to become natives of that element, the black sleek heads of seals bouncing like half-submerged balls.  I love people who harness themselves, an ox to a heavy cart, who pull like water buffalo, with massive patience, who strain in the mud and the muck to move things forward, who do what has to be done, again and again.  I want to be with people who submerge in the task, who go into the fields to harvest and work in a row and pass the bags along, who are not parlor generals and field deserters but move in a common rhythm when the food must come in or the fire be put out.  The work of the world is common as mud.  Botched, it smears the hands, crumbles to dust.  But the thing worth doing well done has a shape that satisfies, clean and evident.  Greek amphoras f

Inns by Andrew Demoline Insecure and unsecured The road shall always be, But there, upon that hill, I spy A light to welcome me. The Inn upon the hill you see, Fire warm and food for all. The road is always very long, the world too large for men, But find me welcome just this night And come morn' I'll rise again. The Inn upon the hill you see, Fire warm and food for all. The Inn upon the hill you see Bids welcome, though its small. Highwaymen and vagabonds, may steal and slay and fight But give me four strong walls and friends And I know I'll fare alright. The Inn upon the hill you see, Fire warm and food for all. The Inn upon the hill you see Bids welcome, though its small. The Inn upon the hill you see, Strong walls, good drink, and friends. Life, it makes my feet ache, Rains stay far to long, But when I step inside to rest Within me rises song. The Inn upon the hill you see, Fire

The Orange By Wendy Cope At lunchtime I bought a huge orange -  The size of it made us all laugh.  I peeled it and shared it with Robert and Dave -  They got quarters and I had a half.  And that orange, it made me so happy, As ordinary things often do Just lately. The shopping. A walk in the park.  This is peace and contentment. It's new.  The rest of the day was quite easy.  I did all the jobs on my list And enjoyed them and had some time over.  I love you. I'm glad I exist. 

The Long and Short of It I like shortcuts. Point A to point B in five easy steps! Why not four? If one can reduce the number of reps, Won’t one soar? I like settling. Is not 70 to 80 good enough? One giant leap! When 80 to 85 will be rough? And hardly cheap. But I’m worried. Technology makes it so simple, automatic, To take leaps and bounds over people, and it’s tragic. So then I think… What of times and places I won’t avert? Long walks What of all the people I won’t desert? Love talks I like long cuts. Point A to point B in five easy steps? Why not more! What if higher and further take more reps? Then I’d soar! I’ll never settle. 85, for love, is not enough! Can’t we go deeper? Yes, 100 will surely be rough! Could love be cheaper? I suppose long and short Each have their place But don’t let the light of a screen Confuse and displace

On the Strength of All Conviction and the Stamina of Love by Jennifer Michael Hecht Sometimes I think we could have gone on. All of us. Trying. Forever. But they didn't fill the desert with pyramids. They just built some. Some. They're not still out there, building them now. Everyone, everywhere, gets up, and goes home. Yet we must not Diabolize time. Right? We must not curse the passage of time.

He Wishes for the Clothes of Heaven by. W.B. Yeats Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths, Enwrought with golden and silver light The blue and the dim and the dark cloths Of night and light and the half-light, I would spread the cloths under your feet: But I, being poor, have only my dreams I have spread my dreams under your feet;  Tread softly because you tread on my dreams. 

When I look at thy heavens, the work of thy fingers,  the moon and the stars which thou hast established Man that is born of a woman is of few days,  and full of trouble.   What is man that thou art mindful of him,  and the son of man that thou dost care for him? He comes forth like a flower, and withers;  he flees like a shadow, and continues not. Yet thou hast made him little less than God,  and dost crown him with glory and honor. And dost thou open thy eyes upon such a one and bring him into judgment with thee? Who can bring a clean thing out of an unclean?  There is not one.   Thou hast given him dominion over the works of thy hands;  thou hast put all things under his feet, Since his days are determined, and the number of his months is with thee,  and thou hast appointed his bounds that he cannot pass, all sheep and oxen, and also the beasts of the field,   the birds of the air,  and the fish of the sea. whatever passes

Poem About Morning William Meredith Whether it's sunny or not, it's sure To be enormously complex - Trees or streets outdoors, indoors whoever you share, And yourself, thirsty, hungry, washing, An attitude towards sex.  No wonder half of you wants to stay With your head dark and wishing Rather than take it all on again: Weren't you duped yesterday? Things are not orderly here , no matter what they say.  But the clock goes off, if you have a dog It wags, if you get up now you'll be less Late. Life is some kind of loathsome hag Who is forever threatening to turn beautiful. Now she gives you a quick toothpaste kiss And puts a glass of cold cranberry juice, Like a big fake garnet, in your hand.  Cranberry juice! You're lucky, on the whole, But there is a great deal about it you don't understand.

Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner. You are my God; be gracious to me, O Lord, for to you I cry all day long. Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, You, O Lord, are good and forgiving, abounding in steadfast love, Have mercy on me, a sinner. In the day of my trouble I call on you, for you will answer me . Lord Jesus Christ There is none like you among the gods, O Lord Son of God Nor are there any works like yours Have mercy on me Teach me your way, O Lord a sinner Give me an undivided heart Lord I give thanks to you, O Lord Jesus I will glorify your name forever Christ Great is your steadfast love Mercy Turn to me, be gracious to me Me Show me a sign of your favor Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, you have helped me and comforted me. 

Otherwise by Jane Kenyon I got out of bed on two strong legs.  It might have been  otherwise. I ate cereal, sweet milk, ripe, flawless peach. It might have been otherwise.  I took the dog uphill to the birch wood.  All morning I did the work I love.  At noon I lay down with my mate. It might have been otherwise.  We ate dinner together at a table with silver candlesticks. It might have been otherwise.  I slept in a bed in a room with paintings on the walls, and planned another day just like this day.  But one day, I know, it will be otherwise. 

Checking Out I stand in line, my cash in hand My eyes flicker from stand to stand   Swollen breast, pumped up chest Financial plans, futures best I step aside, my cash in hand Alone here in this foreign land Strobing light, sudden night Eyes fastened shut, trembling flight I pant outside, no purchase made Just one thought I cannot dissuade Flashing near, hopeful fear I just do not belong here... We all check out, one way or another.

Naps I walked upstairs today to find Kristina sleeping.  I wondered how long she'd lain  and listened to her breathing.  I sat and pondered how much longer  I should let her rest a-sleeping,  and if she'd had major plans  with time left to completion I laid down next to her with thoughts of tender waking And then awoke, to my surprise, with her the one now speaking!

 Ash Wednesday  by T.S. Elliot I Because I do not hope to turn again Because I do not hope Because I do not hope to turn Desiring this man's gift and that man's scope I no longer strive to strive towards such things (Why should the aged eagle stretch its wings?) Why should I mourn The vanished power of the usual reign? The infirm glory of the positive hour Because I do not think Because I know I shall not know The one veritable transitory power Because I cannot drink There, where trees flower, and springs flow, for there is nothing again And place is always and only place And what is actual is actual only for one time And only for one place I rejoice that things are as they are and I renounce the blessed face And renounce the voice Because I cannot hope to turn again Consequently I rejoice, having to construct something Upon which to rejoice And pray that I may forget These matters that with myself I too much discuss T