Lost in an eddy...

First off, if you are lemon dessert person and an oatmeal crisp person, Pioneer Woman has the most perfect lemon square recipe in the entire universe!  [Thank you, Becky, for suggesting I look on her blog for a candy recipe.  Else wise, I think I might have missed this bit of awesome tastiness!]

Now, I did err in the cutting and made them smaller ... 16 servings instead of 12.  So, of course, I had to eat two of them as my first serving of Creamy Lemon Crumb Squares.  I didn't mind!  Today, I had just one and think that the smaller version is mostly sufficient.  They are to be served cold, and I freeze all my desserts.  I would highly recommend keeping yours in the freezer, too, for eating it frozen was just fine.  Very, very, very fine.

I'm besotted with them!!

Somehow, I keep not managing to get the hang of picking out summer squash that will last ... that or more days are slipping since their purchase than I notice.  So, yesterday, I had cook up the last of my summer squash to keep it.  I did not feel up to getting out the 12-inch sauteuse pan, so I thought to try out the use of my griddle.  [I can get it out without having to bend over or squat down, both actions which oft cause me to near faint or faint.]

I think it worked just fine.  I did slice the squash a bit thicker than I usually did, but I think I actually liked it better.  Whilst grilled summer squash has always been my favorite, I have definitely supplanted that preference with Sage Butter Summer Squash with Dill Garnish.  There are two more servings of this awaiting for me to polish off.  [Or there were.  I just heated up a serving for a little something-something to keep my going as I write this.]

The other day, I attempted to start putting out the mulch.  I nearly died.  Okay, not died so much as collapsed several times and struggled to draw a breath the entire time.  Even after several weeks, the mulch is entirely too wet and entirely too heavy.  By way of putting my health in danger, I got eight bags done, but the other 12 are going to have to wait until Firewood Man can lug them to where they need to be spread.

I did not do the back side of the wegelia bush because the solid wood there will be replaced with lattice whenever Firewood Man gets around to tending the lattice of the back porch.  Every other piece of the porch is lattice. I am not sure why this piece was switched out to plywood.  I did tell myself that Firewood Man would appreciate the lack of mulch where he will be working as an excuse for stopping when I reached the end of the rock river against the steps.

[My, how I still adore my rock river!]

The rose bush on the left side of this bed nearly didn't make it through the winter.  I wished for a new rose bush, but I am hoping that some judicious care spring, winter, and next spring, I might could get it growing again.  I had but two blooms this summer.

The bush on the right blooms wildly then spends the summer just sending out climbers. I have been try to stay atop of those and trigger more blooms. I have the beginning of blossoms, so I am hopeful.  Peeking around the corner is a rose bush I rescued a few weeks ago.  I think three blossoms are coming.  I think by next summer, it shall be more like the middle rose bush, which is a rescue from two years ago.

Look at that grass in August, will you?  BLISS.  Polar Vortex, oh, how I love you!

Look how much the yard has changed since I moved here!!  [Note:  I had just moved the Rose of Sharon bushes to the other side of the yard before taking this photo.]

With the heat dome stress that followed their transition, it took a while for the Rose of Sharon bushes to flourish in their new home.  The wait was worth it, though!

This is what the bed to the side of the steps looked like before I ripped out the ground cover and put in the first wegelia ... and then later the rock river followed by the replacement wegelia.  Such sad, sad, sad grass.

Much better now!

Speaking of change over time, here's my milk shelf a week later.  Panic has not quite set it, but I find it to be looking a bit empty already.  It's a good thing I have no visitors, eh?  There's hardly enough milk to share, is there?

I've been working my way through Star Trek Voyager and thought that exchanged sort of fits with some of my thoughts about what I have been reading in Michael Card's commentary on Mark:

[Seven of Nine (a Borg liberated from the collective years before) is back on Voyager after having been captured, along with Tuvok (a Vulcan), and forced to fight as a sort of gladiator for the entertainment of others.]

Tuvok:  I thought you might require assistance.

Seven:  Thank you.

Tuvok:  I realize we share an affinity for silences, but in this instance, I feel compelled to speak.  If you hadn't offered to take my place in the arena, it's likely that I would have been killed.

Seven:  I made the logical choice, as you would have.

Tuvok:  Still, I owe you a debt of gratitude.

Seven:  Assisting me with these recalibrations will be sufficient thanks.

Tuvok:  Have you fully recovered?

Seven:  I am experiencing minor pain beneath my occipital implant.  The doctor believes that it is temporary.

Tuvok:  I wasn't referring to your physical condition.

Seven:  When the Hirogen referred to me I was weak, he was correct.

Tuvok:  But you overpowered him.

Seven:  Because I lost control!

Tuvok:  Given the circumstances, your behavior was understandable.

Seven:  I've spent the last three years struggling to regain my humanity.  I'm afraid I may have lost it again in the arena.

Tuvok:  You're experiencing difficult emotions.

Seven:  Guilt!  Shame!  Remorse!

Tuvok:  Then you haven't lost your humanity.  You have reaffirmed it.

~"Tsunkatse," Star Trek Voyager


I cannot really say why, for sure, but I thought it poignant and apt that Tuvok pointed out to Seven the things she found difficult were the very things that affirmed her humanity.  The difficult things of humanity are most certainly present in the Gospel of Mark.

One of the more ... scandalous ... thoughts I've had reading the commentary is that Jesus was one of the first to face the paparazzi.  By that I mean, in Mark, He is constantly retreating from crowds, constantly telling the demons and such to hush up about who He really is, and on six occasions asks those whom He's healed to remain quiet about it.  Michael Card takes the stance not that Jesus was secretive, but that He knew the more the knowledge spread, the greater the crowds.  The greater crowds meant more listeners, but also more obstacles to His movements, more demands that His time be spend as man thought it should rather than as the God Man knew it needed to be spent.

Michael Card points out that there are times the crowds are such a problem that Jesus and His disciples do not get to eat.   Mark mentions this several times.  From the beginning, Michael Card has emphasized that Mark uses so few words to tell his Gospel,   So, he contends, we must listen more closely, more carefully.  If Mark tells us about the crowds and the going hungry, then we must listen to that, too.

Food for thought.

For me, I am still greatly ... worried.  I mean, if I am so tossed about on a sea wondering about faith, about believing and trusting, should I be reading this commentary.  To me, at times, already, it has seemed too good to be true.  Understandable.  Thought-provoking.  Lots and lots and lots of Jesus, thus far, without any sort of hint at life application or "godly" living.

For example, in Mark 2, Jesus tells three parables.  Michael Card's discussion of them, of how they relate to each other, makes the very muddy water clear ... for me:

First, he asks how the guests at the banquet can fast while the bridegroom is present.  The unspoken answer:  it would be inappropriate to refrain from the feast.  But, says Jesus ominously, the time is coming when the bridegroom will be taken away.  Then they will fast.

He abruptly shifts to the image of sewing a patch of new cloth on an old garment.  The assumption again:  such a thing would be inappropriate.  New cloth would shrink and tear the old cloth.  Just as abruptly, Jesus shifts the image again.  Now he is asking them to picture an old, cracked wineskins and the absurd notion of pouring new wine into it.  Again, the image is one of inappropriateness.  New wine expands; old wineskins do not.  You don't fast at a banquet, you don't sew new cloth on old, nor do you pour new wine into old wineskins.

The first image is the most clear and direct.  Jesus is the bridegroom who will someday be taken away.  His followers do not fast now because it would be inappropriate.  The second and third images are less direct.  The good news of Jesus cannot simply be stitched over the old tear in traditional orthodoxy.  Neither can the old wineskins of ritual observance contain the new wine of the gospel.  Old orthodoxy equals a worn-out garment and stiff old wineskins.  The new realty squish fresh, clean cloth and new wine.

The purpose of fasting is to heighten awareness of God's presence so one can pray and be more sensitive to his voice.  If this is its true purpose, then fasting in Jesus' presence has become irrelevant, even inappropriate.  In time, when he is absent, it will become vital.  Jesus is not anti-fasting.  But he is in favor of a festive meal while he is present.

I never understood how those parables could fit together, but the idea of repeating things that are inappropriate makes sense to me.  I think of how much I was taught, essentially, that Jesus is the new Moses, the new giver of "Christian" laws for godly and holy living.  That was/is inappropriate.  Nothing ever worked to deepen my "relationship" with Jesus.  Nothing.  I still sinned.  I still wondered.  I still feared.

Jesus and the Sabbath.  In Mark's Gospel, after gathering His first disciples, Jesus goes to a synagogue in Capernaum on the Sabbath and begins teaching.  Folk are amazed that He is teaching with authority and, as I wrote before, that Jesus commanded the demon of His own authority.  Amazement at the casting out of the demon, but no mention of a violation of law.

What follows is this ... progression ... of disconcertedness with Jesus' behavior.  The pharisees don't like that Jesus ate/associated with tax collectors (with sinners).  They take offense over his answer about fasting.  And then comes the second mention of the Sabbath, where Jesus' disciples are perceived as working (in the fields of grain).

In verse 27, Jesus teaches that "the Sabbath was made for man and not man for the Sabbath.  As Michael Card explains:

If Jesus had stopped there [the first half of the statement], the scene might have remained a stalemate of one interpretation against another.  But his conclusion in Mark 2:28 makes it crystal clear:  this is not an issue of niggling interpretation.  It is a matter of divine authority and lordship.  Jesus, the Son of Man, is master (kurios) of the Sabbath.  He is Lord over orthodoxy—even the most sacred of objects of orthodoxy, which the Sabbath was for the Pharisees.  Lordship by definition knows no boundaries.  There is no area of our lives where he is not master.  Jesus' proclamation of lordship should cause us to stop and take account.  We need to realize that whatever facet of our orthodox observance, no matter how correct or biblical, he claims lordship over that.  (emphasis mine)

Now, for me, I had decades of evangelical teaching about lordship.  I also, being a reader of historical fiction and fantasy, understand lordship more than most.  Well, with the Lord of the Rings movies, far more folk have been introduced to a feudal society where fealty is greater than honor, greater than life, than had before.  But I wonder if any of those watchers who were Christians ever connected the lessons of those movies to Jesus being a lord.  The Lord.

In the Lutheran world, I cannot think of a time where lordship was emphasized in bible study, sermon, or online pontificating.  Or authority, for that matter.  But, to me, it seems like the way to make this ... sound Lutheran ... is to put it in terms of sanctification.  I mean, I think of all the stuff I read online about piety and sanctification and being faithful really just echoes the Pharisaical emphasis on the Sabbath, forgetting that now, for believers, that Jesus is the Sabbath.

Verse 28 finishes what Jesus started in verse 27: Therefore, the Son of Man is Lord even of the Sabbath."  What do lords do?  Lead.  Command.  Take responsibility for every single life in their kingdom/keep.  What does Jesus command?  To listen to the Word of God.  To take and eat, take and drink.  And he most certainly takes responsibly for every single life in His kingdom.  So, how is it that folk stray from Jesus keeping even the Sabbath for us, to making the observances of man take precedence?  By that I mean, how is it that so much of the Church is focused back on making the man for the Sabbath ... welcoming committees, seeker friendly services, focusing on experiences and feelings during those services?

Okay, I know that sounds confusing, but the issue of the Sabbath, escalates in chapter 3, resulting in the first steps in the plot to kill Jesus.

I had not really noticed or thought about that progression ... that connection between the Sabbaths.  Puzzlement ... offense ... an order for destruction.  However, Michael Card's observation about that defining moment in the Gospel of Mark made an even broader connection for me.

Jesus calls the man with the shriveled hand to stand up. As usual he begins the confrontation with a question rooted in rabbinic tradition.  The rabbis used one test to determine if an exception might be made to the mandate for strenuous abstinence from work on the Sabbath.  Simply put, it was, "Which way preserves life?" (the Mishnah, Yoma 8:6; see also I Macc 2:41).  This is what Jesus asks in Mark 3:4.  True to form, the religious leaders have no answer.  In verse 5 Mark's portrayal of the emotion life of Jesus comes into focus.  He looks over the audience with a range of emotions.  First he is angry (orgēs), then deeply sorrowful (syllypeō).  The second term is found only here in the New Testament.

When Luke tells the same story, he is silent in regard to Jesus' state of mind.  He does, however, inform us that the Pharisees were filled with rage (anoia; see Lk 6:11).  Only Mark gives us the detail of Jesus' emotional reaction.  At first the Pharisees' theological nitpicking angers him.  They are setting another trap.  The next instant he is grieved.  They will be blind to a divine miracle, only seeing an infraction of one of their rules.  A man is about to be made whole.  Their stubborn hearts will remain shriveled. (emphasis mine)

Remember the charge to pay attention to the sparse words of Mark.  Mark is the only one who records that Jesus is Lord of the Sabbath.  And he uses words, such as that for Jesus' grief above, not used elsewhere in the New Testament.  Words matter.  The Word matters.

In the first verse, the man is described as having a paralyzed hand.  Or, as Michael Card puts it, a shriveled hand.  The Pharisees, just like Pharaoh and so many others, had paralyzed hearts.  They had paralyzed eyes and ears.  They could not hear or see or understand because they were frozen stiff by the laws they created for themselves, the laws they created from the Law of God, trying to make it better, to make it more ... faithful and holy.

What folly.

Michael Card sees in Mark that those three instances of the Sabbath laid the foundation for Jesus' ministry, a breaking from organized religion, as Jesus will only appear in a synagogue one more time.  Instead, He will leave the walls of learning and ordinances for the highways and byways of hearth and home, lake and shore to spread His good news.

He also breaks from the tradition of family.  In Mark 3, Jesus family first questions His sanity, then sends folk to investigate Him and His situation, and then arrives to take Him back home.  When they come and Jesus is told His family is there, He does not go out to them, does not bow to the sacred ties of blood.  Instead He points to His family around Him, a family that will ultimately grow beyond all boundaries ... country, race, class, gender, even religion.  The thought that came to mind is that Jesus was "fruitful and multiplied" in the body of Christ born of His ministry then ... and now.

In the midst of all that, of being accused of being demonic and binding Himself more closely with the world (another step toward crucifixion and resurrection ... the goal of His ministry), Jesus says, "I assure you:  People will be forgiven for all sins and whatever blasphemies they may blaspheme.  But whoever blasphemes against the Holy Spirit never has forgiveness, but is guilty of an eternal sin" (3:28-29).  It is in the middle of the talk of divided houses and strong men, addressing the fact that folk were say Jesus had an unclean spirit.  Whilst I still could not quite follow that talk of divided houses (though I now know it does not mean Christians marrying non-Christians) and strong men (somehow that's supposed to signify the devil), I did savor Michael Card's explanation of the unforgivable:

Mark 3:28-29 contains the pronouncement that has regrettably been called the "unpardonable sin."  Jesus begins the statement mysteriously; literally the Greek reads "amen."  There is no precedent for it anywhere in the ancient writings.  "Amen" is a traditional formula of response; an individual or congregation responds to a message by saying "amen" in agreement (see Rev 5:14).  Paul uses it frequently to close his benedictions (see Rom 15:33; Gal 1:5; 6:18; I Tim 1:17) as does Peter (I Pet 4:11; 5:11; II Pet 3:18).  But the frequent double use of the word to initiate a pronouncement is unique to Jesus and has never fully been explained.  This is the first time it occurs in the Gospel of Mark.  It is meant to command our attention.

Jesus' pronouncement of the so-called unpardonable sin is based on the accusation from the Jerusalem contingent that he himself is possessed (Mk 3:30).  Jesus is describing what they have just done to him.  All sins will be forgiven, he says—even whatever they may blaspheme.  But to blaspheme the Holy Spirit places a person beyond all forgiveness.  If a person denies the vehicle of forgiveness (the Holy Spirit), he has cut himself off from the possibility of being forgiven.  It is not the "unpardonable sin.  It is a sin whereby you place yourself beyond pardon. (emphasis mine)

Is that what Saul did?
Is that how he lost his faith?

The too good to be true part weakens ... or comes to fruition depending on how you look at it ... in Mark chapter 4. I simply do not understand the parables, nor do I, for the most part, understand what Michael Card is saying about them.

Well, one thing I think I might understand.  And and it staggers me.  I know not what to think or feel or do with it:  The whole light under a basket thing ... well, it is about the Word, or more specifically, about the parables, which are the means by which Jesus is teaching and spreading His good news and the means by which the disciples will soon be doing the same.

As the private discussion with the disciples continues, Jesus shifts the lesson.  He talks about light. In case some of them have not understood the parable of the seed (and it is always safe to assume some haven't), Jesus talks about the nature of truth and its inherent ability to shine.

Lights are meant to illuminate, to be set up on stands.  Then they reveal what is otherwise hidden in the darkness.  The purpose of the parables is the same.  They are perfect vehicles for illumination.  By their very nature, they shine.  But there will always be those who shove them under beds or cover them up with bowls.

Uhm ... an evangelical is actually saying that the lights are not the witness of God in a particular Christian's life (...this little light of mine/I'm gonna let it shine...), but the shining is the Word of God???

He continues:

"Pay attention to what you hear," Jesus says in Mark 4:24, repeating his theme.  It is all about listening and seeing, understanding and perceiving.  The parables speak, they shine; the Word has power of its own and grows.  Our response, the measure of attention we use, means everything.  If we genuinely give ear, more will be measured out to us.  If we stubbornly refuse to engage, even what we have will be taken away.  This is not a statement on the character of Jesus, who long for everyone to come to salvation.  It is a statement about the nature of truth and the consequences of refusing to listen.

Is that what Saul did?
Is that how he lost his faith?