Monday, July 25, 2011

Montana's Song


Tonight the road roamed under a night sky splendid with stars.  The milky way shone with an icy brilliance as satellites silently traced their paths across the sky.  The grass lent its scent to the night air, giving it an earthy aroma.  The pines silhouetted against the starry sky added spice to the air. 

The road meandered by a small river and listened in as that swollen stream whispered its secret sorrows to the shore in the still places and roared out its joy at being a river in the rapids.

The road was joined by a brook, babbling as it made its way to the river, passing on the gossip from the icy springs and melting snows further up the mountain. 

A nearby campfire burned with joyful abandon, lighting up the trees and fields nearby in the excess of its exuberance.  The crack of the wood being chopped to give the flames life punctuated the river's monologue. 

Creation sings the Father's song.
Hallelujah! Let all creation stand and sing,
"Hallelujah!" Fill the earth with songs of worship;
Tell the wonders of creation's King.

Friday, July 22, 2011

Sailing with Paul


Oddly enough, it turns out that life on a boat (or island) is quite distinctly different from life on the mainland.

I'm sure that will shock and amaze everyone reading this, but really, it's true.  Of course, one expects some differences (smaller beds and bathrooms, for example), but some of the differences change one's understanding of the world (and enlighten one's understanding of much of the New Testament, especially Paul) in ways this landlubber didn't expect.

Weather has a huge impact on how plans are (or aren't) realized in ocean travel.  Here in Montana, I can travel from one city to another on pretty much any given day.  I may have to wait for snowplows to clear the road, or I may be endangering my life in icy conditions, but for anyone really determined, travel is possible.  The same is not true on a boat - especially a sailboat, like the one Paul would have been on.  If the wind is against you, you might not even be able to get your boat out of port.  With the motor on the Morning Star we were able to travel and maneuver in and out of port, even in the absence of favorable winds, making our travels much easier than Paul's.  Still, weather did cause us a few delays.  It gives a whole new perspective on passages like Acts 27. 

And putting out to sea from there we sailed under the lee of Cyprus, because the winds were against us. And when we had sailed across the open sea along the coast of Cilicia and Pamphylia, we came to Myra in Lycia. There the centurion found a ship of Alexandria sailing for Italy and put us on board. We sailed slowly for a number of days and arrived with difficulty off Cnidus, and as the wind did not allow us to go farther, we sailed under the lee of Crete off Salmone. ~Acts 27:4-7

One can imagine being cold, cramped, and tired of the constant motion as the sailors labored to make headway against contrary winds.  A trip that in good weather would have taken a couple days now took several, and those ships were not built for comfort. 

Speed and, tangentially, distance also take on a whole new meaning.  You may have only 50 miles to go, and you may be able to see your destination from where you are, but if your sailboat has a top speed of 7 knots (or about 8mph), that's a long trip!  If the wind is in the right direction and nothing breaks, there's a good chance you may reach your destination that day.   

We were never out of the sight of land during our tours of the Greek Isles - but just because you can see it, doesn't mean you can reach it. 

Of course, in modern times we've found some ways to manage.  Airplanes travel between some of the Greek islands, making some speed possible.  Ferries travel between almost all the islands, some moving at an excess of 20 or 30 knots (which is still not very fast).  I just find it amusing that even with all our technology, the sea finds ways to thwart our plans and slow us down.

Another aspect that I didn't give much thought was the close proximity you have with everyone else on the boat - and you don't get to choose who you travel with.  On our boat we were blessed to at least share the same faith - though backgrounds differed wildly.  The thing is, on a boat, as in much of life, you're not together based on where you come from, but where you're going.  Sharing the same destination may not give you much in common, but it's a starting point.  One can imagine Paul beginning there as he conversed with sailors, soldiers, and other pagans on his travels.  And perhaps by the end of the boat trip, they had more in common, this time an eternal destination.  

In general, on a boat one begins to realize how very out of control we humans are.  We can make plans but they can easily be thwarted by wind, waves, mechanical problems, or even interpersonal problems.  Yet, even as our human plans fall through, we begin to realize that God has plans for us that are better and will never be thwarted. 

Monday, July 18, 2011

A time to be born, and a time to die




For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven: 
a time to be born, and a time to die; 
a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted; 
a time to kill, and a time to heal; 
a time to break down, and a time to build up; 
a time to weep, and a time to laugh; 
a time to mourn, and a time to dance; 
a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; 
a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; 
a time to seek, and a time to lose; 
a time to keep, and a time to cast away; 
a time to tear, and a time to sew; 
a time to keep silence, and a time to speak; 
a time to love, and a time to hate; 
a time for war, and a time for peace. 


What gain has the worker from his toil? I have seen the business that God has given to the children of man to be busy with.  He has made everything beautiful in its time. Also, he has put eternity into man's heart, yet so that he cannot find out what God has done from the beginning to the end. I perceived that there is nothing better for them than to be joyful and to do good as long as they live; also that everyone should eat and drink and take pleasure in all his toil--this is God's gift to man. I perceived that whatever God does endures forever; nothing can be added to it, nor anything taken from it. God has done it, so that people fear before him. 

~Ecclesiastes 3:1-14


The last week of my uncle's journal records his musings on this and other passages.  I don't think there's any way he could have known how soon or sudden his own time to die would be, but I think he was about as prepared for death as a man can be.  His reflections on the passages display his appreciation for the sovereignty of God and the seasons that He has prescribed in our lives, always remembering that,
The sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us.    ~Romans 8:18b

The last words he wrote echo the promise in Philippians 1:6 and his desire for its fulfillment: for God to complete His work in his (my uncle's) life.

A few short hours later God did complete the work he was doing in my uncle's life, and he took him home.  Those of us who have been left behind for now miss him, but we rejoice in the knowledge that he is now complete and rejoicing in the presence of the Lord he loved and served, and we look to follow his example.


He left behind a wife, three daughters and a daughter-in-law, one son and three sons-in-law, and six adorable grandchildren, as well as a mother and a sister and various other relatives.  It had been a long time since we had all been together, and we enjoyed each other's company, though we wished it had been for a different reason.  
His love of hunting and fishing will be remember by his son and oldest grandson who carried on that tradition together while we were there.  

He will be missed, but we look forward to the day when we shall see him again, when death is swallowed up in victory, and when our time with him then will be far longer and far better than our time with him here on earth.  

For this perishable body must put on the imperishable, and this mortal body must put on immortality. When the perishable puts on the imperishable, and the mortal puts on immortality, then shall come to pass the saying that is written: "Death is swallowed up in victory."  "O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting?"  The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.     ~1 Corinthians 15:53-57


Tuesday, July 5, 2011

Narnian Adventures

Something that I have found to be true in my own life is that just about any adventure you have can be, in some form or another, related to one or more of the Chronicles of Narnia (or to one of C. S. Lewis' other books).  On my lastest adventure I was accompanied by a fellow adventurer who loves Lewis almost as much as I do, and it was not uncommon for references to be made to the books and similarities pointed out.  For your literary enjoyment, I will point out a few of those similarities here.  

     Lucy was, of course, barefoot, having kicked off her shoes while swimming, but that is no hardship if one is going to walk on downy turf.  It was delightful to be ashore again and to smell the earth and grass, even if at first the ground seemed to be pitching up and down like a ship, as it usually does for a while if one has been at sea.  It was much warmer here than it had been on board and Lucy found the sand pleasant to her feet as they crossed it.  There was a lark singing.

    They struck inland and up a fairly steep, though low, hill.  At the top, of course, they looked back, and there was the Dawn Treader shining like a great bright insect and crawling slowly northwestward with her oars.  Then they went over the ridge and could see her no longer.
    Doorn now lay before them, divided from Felimath by a channel about a mile wide; behind it and to the left lay Arva.  The little white town of Narrowhaven on Doorn was easily seen.
~The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, Chapter 3
When one spends time on a sailboat, one cannot help but draw comparisons to the Dawn Treader.  We felt, as Lucy, the delight of being on shore again after a few days on the boat - though the solid ground did feel funny.  I even like to imagine that Lewis modeled some of his islands after the Greek Islands: grassy hills, more goats than people (on some), white towns, and from the tops of those hills, a view of our boat, shining in the harbor.  We failed to meet pirates, sea-serpents, or dragons, but we did experience stormy weather, a damaged boat, and limited water rations.


     I had been wandering for hours in similar mean streets, always in the rain and always in evening twilight.  Time seemed to have paused on that dismal moment when only a few shops have lit up and it is not yet dark enough for their windows to look cheering.  And just as the evening never advanced to night, so my walking had never brought me to the better parts of the town.  However far I went I found only dingy lodging houses, small tabacconists, hoardings from which posters hung in rags, windowless warehouses, goods stations without trains, and bookshops of the sort that sell The Works of Aristotle.  I never met anyone. 
~The Great Divorce,  Chapter 1
"How did you like Athens?" has been a common question over the past month or so since I left Athens.  The best answer I've found is a comparison I made while there: it reminds me of the grey town in The Great Divorce.  The historical sites are great, but the modern town itself...  It's kind of dirty, covered with graffiti, the streets go on an on, each with a few of the same little dingy shops open (but more places closed than open), and as far as you walk, nothing changes, and you never get to a better part of town.  It's not eternally raining and not eternally twilight, but apart from that, the description fits pretty well.


     At first Shasta could see nothing in the valley below him but a sea of mist with a few domes and pinnacles rising from it; but as the light increased and the mist cleared away, he saw more and more.  A broad river divided itself into two streams and on the island between them stood the city of Tashbaan, one of the wonders of the world.  Round the very edge of the island, so that the water lapped against the stone, ran high walls strengthened with so many towers that he soon gave up trying to count them.  Inside the walls the island rose in a hill, and every bit of that hill, up to the Tisroc's palace and the great temple of Tash at the top, was completely covered in buildings: terrace above terrace, street above street, zigzag roads or huge flights of steps bordered with orange trees and lemon trees, roof gardens, balconies, deep archways, pillared colonnades, spires, battlements, minarets, pinnacles.  And when at last the sun rose out of the sea and the great silver-plated dome of the temple flashed back its light, he was almost dazzled.  
~The Horse and His Boy, Chapter 4
Apparently Lewis modeled Calormen after Turkey.  I have to say that I liked Turkey quite a lot, while no one, probably not even Calormens, like Calormen.  That aside, similarities can still be seen, and this discription of Tashbaan sounds a lot like what I imagine the Golden Horn of Istanbul was like during the time of the Ottomans.  A walled hill, surrounded by water (not quite an island), topped by Topkapi palace and mosques instead of the temple.

It is also worth noting that "aslan" is the Turkish word for "lion" and thus it was not uncommon to come across places like "Aslan Tourism" or "Aslan Cafe."


     But it was a queer city.  The lights were so few and far apart that they would hardly have done for scattered cottages in our world.  But the little bits of the place which you could see by the lights were like glimpses of a great seaport.  You could make out in one place a whole crowd of ships loading or unloading; in another, bales of stuff and warehouses; in a third, walls and pillars that suggested great palaces or temples; and always, wherever the light fell, endless crowds: hundreds of Earthmen....The City was as quiet, and nearly as dark, as the inside of an anthill.  
~The Silver Chair,  Chapter 10
The underground city we visited in Cappadocia was nothing like the one described here, being merely a series of tunnels, rooms, and passage ways - nothing like a cave large enough to contain a whole city.  Still, one could get a sense of what a relief it must have been for Jill, Eustace, Puddleglum, and Rilian to find themselves above ground, free to move and breath, rejoicing in the light of the sun and moon.  Apparently there are around 100 such underground cities all around that region of Turkey.  It's hard to imagine that many people living that deep underground, buried alive with all their animals, self-sufficient in their caves for long enough to avoid whatever enemies troubled them.  


     Pressing their way between the laden branches they reached the wall.  It was very old, and broken down in places, with moss and wallflowers growing on it, but it was higher than all but the tallest trees.  And when they came quite close to it they found a great arch which must once have had a gate in it but was not almost filled up with the largest of all the apple trees.  They had to break some of the branches to get past, and when they had done so they all blinked because the daylight became suddenly much brighter.  They found themselves in a wide open place with walls all around it.  In here there were no trees, only level grass and daisies, and ivy, and gray walls.  It was a bright, secret, quiet place, and rather sad; and all four stepped out into the middle of it, glad to be able to straighten their backs and move their limbs freely.
~Prince Caspian, Chapter 1
Visiting the ruins at Olympos felt almost as if we'd stumbled upon the ruins of Cair Paravel.  The sun soaked stones, overgrown with trees and vines, stood near the sea, abandoned and unused for centuries.   We kept expecting to find a treasure room and have to rescue a dwarf from some hostile Telmarines.  Instead, the most threatening creature we came across was a large toad.  


     Tirian looked and saw the queerest and most ridiculous thing you can imagine.  Only a few yards away, clear to be seen in the sunlight, there stood up a rough wooden door, and round it, the framework of the doorway: nothing else, no walls, no roof.  He waled toward it, bewildered, and the others followed, watching to see what he would do.  He walked round to the other side of the door.  But it looked just the same from the other side: he was still in the open air, on a summer morning.  The  door was simply standing up by itself as if it had grown there like a tree.  
~The Last Battle, Chapter 13
Here and there, wandering around ancient ruins, one will happen across something like this: the walls and ceiling crumbled away years ago, but the doorway is still standing (though usually not with a door still hung in it).  Though you know it doesn't go anywhere, it's hard not to imagine that it might be a door to other worlds - maybe even to Aslan's country!