Gospel Harmony Joy Note 9...

Am. Is. Are. Was. Were. Be. Being. Been. I can still recite those verb tense, just as I can recite all auxiliary verbs, all prepositions, all conjunctions, and all interjections (non-slang ones). Once a literacy girl always a literacy girl.

The verb To Be ... the state of being. I have struggled so much with understanding the Gospel as taught in the pure doctrine. So much has been upended in my mind, for so much of the sweet, sweet Gospel is twisted in the Church where the pure doctrine is not taught. Be verbs in the Bible. They are most troublesome to me.

The other day, Pastor Buetow posted: "'Do not be unbelieving but believing.' That's not a command. It's a promise." 

Huh? I asked what he meant. Pastor Brown responded:

“This not a matter of Jesus telling you what you must make yourself into - it is Jesus speaking -- and you are.

“Let there be light - and there was light.
Do not be unbelieving but believing - and there is belief.

“Because the Word of God is cool like that - living and active and all that.”

Wow! Really? Just as shocking to me ... still ... as when Pastor Cwirla once posted that the beatitudes are not instructions for Christian living. What???

You start reading the beatitudes and I no longer really hear what you are reading. What I hear is Wayne Watson’s song “Blessed Are”:

Blessed are the poor in spirit;

God has faithfully revealed 

that the riches of the kingdom

with their souls in Christ are sealed.



Blessed are the grieved, the weeping, 

those whose tears for others cry,

Selfless, giving, bearing sorrow
will be dancing by and by.



Those who hunger and are thirsty,

craving righteousness and life,

won't be filled by any other,

satisfied by none by Christ.



Blessed are the meek, the gentle,

no demands, no claims to rights,

In their patience, strong and mighty

confidence and faith in Christ.



And to those of tender mercy,

from them falls as gentle rain

Grace and Kindness, sweet compassion,

mercy given and mercy gained.



Blessed are the true peacemakers

with contentment for the fold.

They cling to promises of heaven,

working in the field of souls.

See the pattern? Blessed are these folk for what they *do.* Yet I here was this rather blithely written (yet rather shocking to me) statement from Pastor Cwirla. Then, I also asked, “What do you mean?” I cannot find his post, but the crux of what he wrote was that: The beatitudes are who we are in Christ. We are blessed. Are. The verb To Be. The state of being. Are you mourning? Even then, you are blessed, for you are in Christ.

No, I am not at the beatitudes yet, but I jumped ahead to read them because of Matthew 9:5; Mark 2:9; and Luke 5:23.

When Jesus saw the crowds, He went up on the mountain; and after He sat down, His disciples came to Him. He opened His mouth and began to teach them, saying, “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted. Blessed are the gentle, for they shall inherit the earth. Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied. Blessed are the merciful, for they shall receive mercy. Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God. Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons of God. Blessed are those who have been persecuted for the sake of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are you when people insult you and persecute you, and falsely say all kinds of evil against you because of Me. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward in heaven is great; for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you” (Matthew 5:1-12).

That does not really sound the same as the way I learned them from Wayne Watson’s song. Not instructions ... who we are in Christ....

Pastor Cwirla's little post truly turned my life upside down that day. So, surely the whole unbelieving/believing post should have been par for the course to me, right? But it was not.

So, back to Matthew, Mark, and Luke. Those verses fall within describing how Jesus healed the paralytic. Jesus’ question: “Is it easier for me to say, ‘your sins are forgiven’ or ‘to say arise, take up your [bed/pallet/stretcher], and go home’?”

Did you notice that? The question was not to ask if it was easier to say, “I forgive you,” but “your sins are forgiven.”

Are.

I lingered upon that word, that Word, for a long, long while. And I wonder ... how much of salvation, righteousness, forgiveness, sanctification in the New Testament is spoken/written with the verb To Be?

Before I came to the paralytic, I noticed the same in Matthew 8:3; Mark 1:41; and Luke 5:13, where Jesus says to the leper, “I am willing; be cleansed.” And the leper was. God spoke and it was.

Since I leapt ahead to Matthew 5, I should note that in verse 13 I read that we are salt and in verse 14 we are light. I learned those verses as instructions, too. Go out and do things to make yourself salty for others to see Jesus at work in your life. Go out and do things to make yourself a bright light to shine the way to Jesus so that others might be saved by your testimony of what He is doing in your life.

Is this the same? Am I salty because I am in Christ. Is it my being? Am I bright because I am in Christ?

Alas, I find myself back to the Psalter. Psalm 18 tells me that the Lord rescued me because He delighted in me. He recompenses me according to the cleanness of my hands and finds me blameless. And the Lord lights my lamp and illumines my darkness. Notice the doer of all those things and the doing is because of who I am to Him. Who I am in faith. The faith given to me. The faith of Jesus. The faith of Christ crucified.

I cannot call to mind any psalms about saltiness, but there are references to taste. References to honey, to sweetness. What is the taste? The Word of God. Not man, but the Word.

Am. Is. Are. Was. Were. Be. Being. Been.
How many more will I find? How many more are hidden within the translated Greek?

Lord, I believe.  Help my unbelief!

Gospel Harmony Joy Note 8...

Still having water on my mind ... repentance, new creation, rebirth, life ... as I was reading about Jesus' ministry in Galilee, I was struck by Mark 1:38, Jesus' answer to his disciples when they came looking for Him after He had gone off to pray, "And He said to them, 'Let us go somewhere else to the towns nearby, in order that I may preach there also; for that is what I came for.'"

At the time, He was healing those who were ill and stricken with demons. The needy and afflicted were coming to Him and He tended to them, just as so often prayed in the Psalter. This is a good and salutary thing to do.

Yet what was just as important, more so really, was that Jesus preach the Word of God. Yes, care of the body is important and our bodies are precious in the sight of God. However, healing our bodies does not save us. Healing our souls does. By that I mean forgiving the sin that stains our souls, twists and scars them, leaving us only enteral death. Forgiveness won for us on the Cross. Forgiveness that comes to us through Word and Sacrament.

I think this is why I cling more to the sustenance and the healing that I receive each time I have the Living Word poured into my ears and each time I receive Christ's body and blood, than to any hope for healing of my physical body.

Please do not misunderstand. I would give most anything to be free from the myriad diseases ravaging my body and my mind. In fact, I would give anything asked of me if I could be assured I would keep my mind until the end. Yet what truly matters most to me is hearing the Word of God and receiving the Lord's Supper. In short, I honestly and deeply care more for those things than I do for physical and mental relief.

Reading Mark 1:38 made me feel a little less like a freak for thinking this way ... for it seems Jesus agrees with me!

I am Yours, Lord.  Save me!

Gospel Harmony Joy Note 7...

I find it interesting that when the woman at the well in John 4 gave her "testimony," it was not about her or how her life had changed, but about the words of Jesus. Then, after a few days, the people of Samaria came to her to say that they also believed, not because of what she had testified, but because they heard for themselves. Again, it was the words of Jesus, the Living Word, that created belief. Again, testimony was about Jesus Christ, not about people.

This struck me as rather opposite to how so many Christians share their testimony today. They do not let the Living Word speak for itself; they do not focus on the work of Jesus Christ.

While I was reading this, John 2:25 came back to mind, in that Jesus had no need of man to bear witness for Him at that time. He had no need for He knew what is in man. He knows the depths of Original Sin; He understands our depravity.

And this also called to mind one of my favorite BOC bits: And He did all this [became man, suffered, died, and was buried] in order to become my Lord. He did none of these things for Himself, nor did He have any need for redemption (LC, II, 31).

As the Gospels go on, I know there will be talk of who gets to sit where and what rewards might come. I know that again and again and again flesh gets in the way of understanding and that belief comes where and when God wills through His Word. I know that so much of that which is to come is filled with questions. Questions of doubt, of proof, of incredulity, for Jesus simply is not the Messiah our world envisioned.

But, for now, I have a first miracle devoid of fireworks one would expect of a "miracle." I have a prophet who came to prepare the way for Jesus. I have a scholar of the Law who wanted to know the new law that Jesus had to offer, given that He was clearly from God. I have a woman who represents the way of our flesh wanting to understand what she was hearing. In all of those things, the common thread is water.

Water is our repentance.
Water is a new creation.
Water is a new birth.
Water is life.

The Living Water, that is.

I like how at the end of all of that, after all those things had come to pass, what Jesus said was, essentially: "I am."

And then, I move on, and all the doubt and disbelief from his neighbors, from those among whom He had lived and worked and never once sinned against them in thought, word, or deed, mark the rest of Jesus' path to the cross.

Because my thoughts are never far from the Psalter, I will note that I find it interesting that the prayer book of the Bible also begins with life from water.

Gospel Harmony Joy Note 6...

Reading Luke 2:29-32 was ... thrilling, having sung the Nunc Dimittis in the Divine Service Three. Sometimes I wonder if Lutherans truly understand what a gift the Liturgy is. To me, it seems as if those who advocate to abandon the Liturgy see it as a man-made thing that, therefore, could be easily discarded. But the Liturgy is filled with the Word of God.

When I started reading those verses, I heard the notes of the Nunc Dimittis. To me, those Words are perfectly placed following the Service of the Sacrament. At that moment, we join Simeon in truth. as well as in fellowship, for we, too, have just seen salvation!

Because I spend so much time in the Psalter, I recognize its Words amongst the liturgies of Divine Services and the Offices of Prayer and find singing them all the sweeter. Equally so, when I am praying the Psalter and come across bits of the Liturgy, my heart sings and I savor their sweetness all the more.

God tells us, in Psalm 81, "I, the LORD, am your God, who brought you up from the land of Egypt; open your mouth wide and I will fill it."

To me, the Liturgy is one way God is filling my mouth in Divine Service. Seeing the Nunc Dimittis in the Bible for the first time that I remember since becoming a Lutheran drives home just how fitting and perfect is the Word of God.


Lord, I believe. Help my unbelief!

Two sides of the same coin...

With 205 quotes from the BOC in the Snippets archive blog, I am finding it harder to ferret out quotes that are contained within a shorter passage, and I wonder just how many more I should put on the Snippets archive blog. However, I continue to find it simply fascinating that whenever I post ones about works or about Original Sin in the Reveling in the Christian Book of Concord Facebook group (that is not a group since no-one interacts) the quotes go largely ignored and primarily not "liked."

I feel like a freak that some of the most comforting quotes from our Confessions are the very ones that speak about Original Sin and about how the only good in our works being that which God does, how the Holy Spirit is the author of our sanctification, how all that we do good in a spiritual sense is that which God has prepared, purposed, and provided the way for us to do.

Both of these are two sides of the same coin, to me, in that Original Sin is the "proof" that we will never find salvation and righteousness on our own and on the other side is that our works will never sanctify us. This coin is one that Christ gave the Holy Spirit to spend on our behalf, to extend the rather poor metaphor, so that we can have the certitude in faith, in salvation, in forgiveness, in eternal life.

Perhaps I am utterly wrong, but to me the doctrine of Original Sin, which bleeds into what our Confessions teaches us about works, is the freedom of the Gospel. The Gospel frees us from the burden of having to save and to sanctify ourselves. The Gospel frees us from spending our lives as Sisyphus.

And, even more astounding, is how the doctrine of Original Sin underscores the ineffable breadth and depth of the love our Triune God has for us, gives to us. Always ... always our flesh contends against God and yet He loves us, sent His Son to redeem us and to give us our Helper who sanctifies us. Always ... apart from the gift of faith that we receive from God ... we stand against Him. And yet He loves us!

Lord, I believe.  Help my unbelief!

Gospel Harmony Joy Note 5...

Gospel Harmony Joy Note 5: In reading the end of Zacharias' prophecy for his son, he finishes in Luke 1:79, "'to guide our feet into the way of peace.'" Of course I liked the bit about the Sunrise coming to shine upon those who sit in darkness, but I was surprised to find myself exulting more in the last line.

You see, either a plea for or thanksgiving of sure footing is one of the common themes I have labeled in the first 79 psalms of the Psalter. I struck me that this collection of prayers are filled more with hearing and speaking and footing, than with sight. So the adage that seeing is believing does not really hold true.

Zacharias tells us this plain as day. The way of peace is in the footsteps of Christ. Those lead to the cross. So, all that bunk I had taught about journeys with Jesus, about walks with Christ--sharing ours and listening to the testimony of others--is all moot. It is not about my journey or my footsteps. It is about the path, the sure footing, that our Triune God provides to His children.

Suddenly, all that wandering in the wilderness, all that walking that Israel did, no longer seems the slightest bit insignificant. The pillar that led them by day and by night was marking the path upon which God was guiding them.

The way of peace is not a guiding of our minds or our hearts, but our feet. But this doesn't mean that I should despair even more about no longer being able to walk any significant length. The only path that matters, the only sure footing, is the path Jesus took *for us.*

In the Psalter, also, there is a frequency of saying that God is our rock. In fact, in 18:2, you have rock, fortress, and deliverer all together, which I find interesting. In 27:5, the psalmist declares, "For in the day of trouble He will conceal me in His tabernacle; in the secret place of His tent He will hide me; He will lift me up on a rock." I never really thought about how standing on a rock is probably another way of speaking of sure and certain footing ... as well as having a vantage point for what lies before you and an advantage over your enemy's approach/assault.

At the cross, the wandering is over. At the cross, the uncertainty is gone. Oh, my, "It is finished," just took on a whole new meaning!

I am Yours, Lord.  Save me!

Gospel Harmony Joy Note 4...

I am a new fan of Luke, but more so am newly astounded at the intimacy with which God addresses us in His Word. In reading Luke 1:29, my first thought was how well God knows me. Huh? The verse is about Mary. Yet in a way it is about me, about faith, about how hearing the Good News is not always easy. Gabriel hails Mary as the favored one and tells her that God is with her. Mary's first response is: "But she was greatly troubled at this statement, and kept pondering what kind of salutation this might be." Hah! Such a message from God and she worried!

For over three decades, I was snared by the Heroes-of-the-Faith mentality. Everyone one in the Bible who is an example of faith is a GIANT of faithfulness, in obedience and trust and all sorts of things. They are all suffering saints who willingly walk into danger and death with no doubt or fear or failings of any kind. Here's Mary! The MOTHER of God! And her first response at good news is worry!

Verse 29, to me, is hearing God say, "I know you, Myrtle." Being known by God in the Psalter is not new to me, but being known in the Gospels is!


Lord, I believe. Help my unbelief!

Gospel Harmony Joy Note 3...

My first real Gospel recognition in the New Testament all on my own came in reading Luke 1:6. Luke tells us that Zacharias and Elizabeth were "righteous in the sight of God, walking blamelessly in all the commandments and the requirements of the Lord." Now, I know that we are all sinners, so they could not possibly be righteous and blameless and most certainly did not keep *all* the Law. It struck me that the teaching that God only sees us through faith, that that is how we are blameless and whole in His eyes is actually true!

Some of what I have learned of the pure doctrine is hard to accept, being so polar opposite of what I learned in the mainline evangelical church. The idea that God sees me as blameless, does not look at me and see all my sin, all my weaknesses, all my doubts is staggering. Psalm 18 first help me dare think about how God sees us through faith, but here is it in such blunt language. Here is the truth, right from the beginning!


Lord, I believe.  Help my unbelief!

Gospel Harmony Joy Note 2...

Each time I read John 1:14, I always see the word "dwelt" as tabernacled and my heart leaps. I savor the idea of God coming to pitch a tent with us, as pitching a tent is such a convivial sort of thing to do, telling someone that you will spend time with them. But also there is the idea of the tabernacle being the portable sanctuary of God, the idea God was once again plucking down the holy of holies amongst man. Suddenly, the name "Emmanuel," the name "God with Us," has new meaning for me!

I am Yours, Lord.  Save me!

Gospel Harmony Joy Note 1...

I find it interesting how Luke starts out stating his purpose of documenting eye witness testimony of the things of Christ so that we might know the truth and how John starts out talking about how a man came to bear witness of the true light.

Lord, I believe.  Help my unbelief!

Gospel Harmony Joy...

I have long wanted a parallel of the Gospels.  Some time ago, a couple of years, I think, I found this one and stuck it in my Amazon shopping cart.  With all that has changed for me, I could not really justify purchasing it ... even though it is my beloved NASB 1977 version of the bible.

Then, a few weeks ago, I found a merchant on Amazon who was offering it for next to nothing.  A new copy of an old book that was probably sitting on a shelf gathering dust.  I ordered it...and then forgot I ordered it because it was coming through the slow boat from China that is media mail.

I ordered it, despite the rather dire financial standing of late, because of how much I am forgetting about the Bible and because of how difficult it is for me to comprehend what I am reading.  I thought an organized presentation of the Gospels, at least, might help me hold on to a few things of Jesus.

Today, after a long and difficult night, I fell asleep with the dawn and woke up mid-afternoon to find this on my porch.

Oh, the joy!

I quipped about how I was sure to start losing all my Facebook friends from too many posts about the Gospels.  One responded that there could never be too many posts about the Gospel.  So, I started writing my thoughts as I began reading this.  I just posted the 7th one here on my blog (in real time), wondering why I was having them only on Facebook.  Here is where my external memory lies.  Here is what is important to me.

So, I back posted this photo and plan to put my Gospel joy thoughts 1-6 between it and this one.


Lord, I believe. Help my unbelief!

Would you want to see...

I really like the show "The Voice."  A lot.  I laugh at the judges' banter.  I do not much laugh these days.  And I like the music.  That is rather odd because much of it is of a kind I care not for ... or rather cared not.  Terry McDermott from last season changed my mind where rock music is concerned.  This season, just barely underway, already had a favorite song of mine.

I first heard the song, "One of Us" as the theme song for the television show "Joan of Arcadia."  It was a show that I liked, despite the theology, for the pause it gives about our notions of God.  The song, too, gives pause.  I have already downloaded the full length version of Sarah Simmons' rendition from this season of "The Voice," but you can watch her shortened audition rendition here.

It is the second verse I like ... really like.

If God had a face, what would it look like
And would you want to see
If seeing meant that you would have to believe
In things like Heaven and in Jesus and the Saints
And all the Prophets and...

If. If ... then.

I happen to think that when it comes to the Church in America today, this verse both would make many rather uncomfortable and mirrors how many approach the Bible.  Our human reason likes reign.  And so we also like to pick and choose the things we think and believe about the Bible.

What a question this is!  Would you want to see God's face if it meant that you had to believe everything?  

Oh, how the Church argues about what the Bible says and means!

Oh, how even the Lutheran Church argues about what the Bible says and means even though we have the pure doctrine in a compendium elucidated in a manner such that a young adult to an elderly person can read and understand!

We love our human reason.

Whilst thumbing through the Christian Book of Concord (BOC) looking for something to post on my Snippets blog, I came across the following:

Here one sees how blind reason gropes around in matters relating to God.  According to its own imagination, reason seeks consolation in its own works and cannot remember Christ and faith. ~BOC, SA, III, III, 18.

Amongst the texts of the BOC are many portions speaking of human reason.  In a nutshell, human reason has no place in spiritual matters.  Here is a collection of quotes about human nature.  Here is a collection about works.  Here is a collection of quotes about justification.  However, I believe that all you really need to read is the Second Article of the Augsburg Confession.  There we learn the why.  But we humans have this rather profound and abiding proclivity to forget about, to dismiss, the fullness of Original Sin, the depth of which is shown here in this collection of quotes.  

Today (now yesterday, though today for me still), I read a post thread on Facebook about infant baptism.  Primarily the arguments against follow: 1) infants have yet to commit sin; 2) infants are not able to choose Jesus as their savior; and 3) baptism is an ordinance not a Sacrament (an act of worship by humans rather than the work of God for humans).  All of those arguments are based on what the Bible says, does not say, etc.  Those against infant baptism are skilled at choosing which verses to keep and which to disregard.  But, to my theologically untrained mind, the whole matter boils down to Original Sin.  Either you believe in Original Sin and acknowledge that man cannot fear, love, or trust God without the gift of faith because of his sinful nature or you do not believe in Original Sin and instead hold that man chooses to accept faith of his own reason, will, nature, flesh.

It has to be either or.  

It cannot be both.  

They are diametrically opposed doctrines that effectively cancel each other out.

To me, in my reading of the latter section of Part IV of the Large Catechism, this is the crux of Luther's argument.  And yet, even as I read it, I wonder why the need for that section.  In the Large Catechism, he is not writing about the teachings of adversaries.  He is writing to Lutherans, how to teach the Confession of the pure doctrine.  And the Augsburg Confession clearly lays out the foundation of faith, how we are justified and how we are sanctified.  All is the work of our Triune God.  All of it.  Every single bit of it.  In fact, in laying out the Confession, Original Sin comes before Jesus, the Holy Spirit, and the rest.  The First Article is our Triune God.  Next comes Original Sin.  That huge, impossible, and insurmountable obstacle/barrier between man and God.  Enter the work of Jesus and the Holy Spirit and the rest.  Why, then, do we even need to discuss, much less argue about infant baptism?  If we are sinners, we must receive faith in order to believe, to understand, to fear and love and trust God.  If we are sinners, we are blind to the Promise.  So, age matters not.  Age and an increase of knowledge or wisdom matters not.

If we are not actually sinners in our nature, in our flesh, then the whole birth, live, passion, and death of Jesus Christ is moot.  Each time we argue against baptism being a Sacrament, being the saving work of God, we are arguing against Jesus, against the cross.  Simple.  Nothing difficult to understand.  Either you believe in Original Sin or you do not.

If God had a face, what would it look like
And would you want to see
If seeing meant that you would have to believe
In things like Heaven and in Jesus and the Saints
And all the Prophets and...

To glimpse even the merest sliver of what Original Sin means, is within us, is to look upon a blackness so complete that there is no room for a single thought of the value of reason or will with regard to faith, no room for choosing to believe, for accepting a personal savior, for beginning a "relationship" with Jesus.  But there in lies the rub.  If we look upon our sin, we cannot look to ourselves for strength, courage, belief.  If we look upon ourselves, all we see is hopelessness and helplessness.  Who wants to see that?

If God had a face, what would it look like
And would you want to see
If seeing meant that you would have to believe
In things like Heaven and in Jesus and the Saints
And all the Prophets and...

We do not want to look upon our sin.  Nor do we want to look upon the face of God, to look upon the whole of Jesus and the Holy Spirit, because we will not find ourselves there.  

In a way, I also believe this unwillingness to truly look upon the fullness, the depth of Original Sin is why we have Lutherans who pick and choose amongst the texts of Confessions for that which they will believe, teach, and confess. To look upon Original Sin means to turn away from reason.  To look upon Original Sin is to look upon the cross.  Neither of those leaves one comfortable.  Reason is the comfort of our flesh.  We hunger for it.  We strive after it.

But, to me, all that is a puzzle.  A genuine, bonafide, inexplicable, unfathomable puzzle.  For, seriously, why in the world would any Christian want his faith to depend on his reason, will, dedication, devotion, worship?  Why?  Why in the world would you want failure, doubt, despair?  I have lived there.  No, it is better to say that I have spent years dying there.

Yet, even in finding the pure doctrine, I struggle with the enormity of the true Gospel, of what it means, with how it obliterates nearly everything I have been taught about faith and "Christian living." I struggle and doubt and worry and fear.  Even in this post.  Even in admitting I like a song that is not a "Christian" song.  Shame.  Fear.  Guilt.  Yet really what I am admitting is that I find comfort in the lyrics, in the reminder of our weakness and of the fullness, the whole, of looking upon the cross.  I find comfort in the thought of looking upon the face of God and believing everything. 

Of late, I have begun to wonder if part of the problem is the notion of "Christian" living.  We try to describe it, to define it, to build parameters that become guidelines that turn in to Law.  Law we then use to crush and to kill our brothers and sisters in Christ who are not abiding by our "Christian" living Law.  

The truth ... the actual, veritable Truth ... is that I am baptized and so therefore am living each day in Christ.  That means, this life where I am struggling and doubting, where I am weak and ill, where I am confused and lost, is "Christian" living.  It is not being good or moral or loving or worshipful enough.  It is being baptized.  Period.  

• Being baptized means being forgiven and receiving faith.  
• Receiving faith means bearing fruit.
• Bearing fruit means the Holy Spirit working the Word and Christ's body and blood according the will of God as He plans and purposes and prepares for His creation, for you.

There is no consolation of self in any of that.  In a way, then, is not the battle against--the vitriol against and derision of--infant baptism the rallying cry for the need to insert reason into the matters of God, the matters of faith?  

Lord, I believe.  Help my unbelief!

Only a moment...

In trying to deal with the symptoms of PTSD, I was taught to generate a list of things to do to take me outside the moment of what I was feeling and not thinking ... or ... thinking and not feeling ... or thinking and feeling.  The maelstrom of those moments are terrifying.  

Moment.  That very word calls to mind this scene from Firefly's "Heart of Gold" episode.  I have written of it before, but I shall do so again. Inara is comforting a woman in the throes of the agony of childbirth. She tells her: This is just a moment in time. Step aside and let it happen.

I think about her words a lot.  Much of that show is witty and sharp and smart.  Some of it is brutal in honesty.  Some a haven of another life, another world.

Amos is on my list.  Holding him.  He's very obliging in that respect.  Fires are there.  But anyone who knows me now would surely guess that from all of the photos and videos of fires I have posted on Facebook.  Playing the Monopoly App is there.  That one has had many surprising benefits, for I learned to be patient and to temper despair playing the app.  Now, I win it nearly every time I play. I win by being patient, by trusting that no matter how desperate my position seems, if I hold onto hope I will win.  Of course, I also win by using the app's patterns of play against itself.  I win by being merciless with my enemy.

In a way, I think that is how Luther tells us our foe is with us.  And how we are to be with him.  After all, what mercy is there in reminding satan that he has lost?

I used to think Luther laid it on a bit thick when it came to speaking of the attacks of our foe.  Now, I am convinced he was soft peddling a bit, lest we become truly overwhelmed by what we face.  Even the glimpse he gives in Part III of the Large Catechism, for example, is harrowing enough.

So far we have prayed that God's name be honored by us and that His kingdom triumph among us.  In these two points is summed up all that deals with God's honor and our salvation.  We receive God as our own and all His riches.  But now arises a need that is just as great: we must firmly keep God's honor and our salvation, and not allow ourselves to be torn from them.  In a good government it is not only necessary that there be those who build and govern well.  It is also necessary to have those who defend, offer protection, and maintain it firmly.  So in God's kingdom, although we have prayed for the greatest need--for the Gospel, faith, and the Holy Spirit, that He may govern us and redeem us from the devil's power--we must also pray that God's will be done.  For there will be strange events if we are to abide in God's will.  We shall have to suffer many thrusts and blows on that account from everything that seeks to oppose and prevent the fulfillment of the first two petitions.

No one can believe how the devil opposes and resists these prayers.  He cannot allow anyone to teach or to believe rightly.  It hurts him beyond measure to have his lies and abominations exposed, which have been honored under the most fancy sham uses of the divine name.  It hurts him when he himself is disgraced, is driven out of the heart, and has to let a breach he made in his kingdom.  Therefore, he chafes and rages as a fierce enemy with all his power and might.  He marshals all his subjects and, in addition, enlists the world and our own flesh as his allies.  For our flesh is itself lazy and inclined to evil, even though we have accepted and believe God's Word.  The world, however, is perverse and wicked.  So, he provokes the world against us, fans and stirs the fire, so that he may hinder and drive us back, cause us to fall, and again bring us under his power.  Such is all his will, mind, and thought.  He strives for this day and night and never rests a moment.  He uses all arts, wiles, ways, and means that he can invent.

If we would be Christians, therefore, we must surely expect and count on having the devil with all his angels and the wold as our enemies.  They will bring every possible misfortune and grief upon us.  For where God's Word is preached, accepted, or believed and produces fruit, there the holy cross cannot be missing.  An let no one think he shall have peace.  ~BOC, LC, III, 60-65

The devil enlists my flesh as his ally.  

On my list, among other things not yet mentioned, is burning a candle. I am not an aromatherapy person.  In fact, I would say that I am the very opposite of an aromatherapy person.  I care not for many scents others find appealing.  I am not even a candle person.  Not really.  I did once find a candle at Pier One that I liked:  Fresh Rain.  [Of course it was discontinued.]  Most candles smell too fruity or too flowery or too false.  It is the same with lotion.  Oh, the hours I spent in Bath and Body works trying to find a scent I could stand since their body cream is the one lotion that actually lasts in my skin.  I truly believe, while searching for a candle, my Good Shepherd provided one that smells like an actual rose.

I love roses.

I am not a candle person. I am not an aromatherapy person.  And yet I burn this candle. For reasons I know not doing so calms me, soothes me, eases my fear.  Burning the candle helps me stand outside the moment and let it happen.

Last week, when my pastor came to visit I was terrified about his coming, terrified about being at my father's service, among other things as noted before.  What I did not include in writing about that visit was that I had the rose beeswax candle burning the entire time.

The level of my anxiety could be noted by the fact that I am no longer able purchase those candles (Amazon no longer carries them and I cannot find them elsewhere).  I have but half a candle left.  A part of me worries about that.  I use many things on my "list" for often it takes many of them to beat back the maelstrom ... or rather to find the courage and the strength to step aside and let it happen.  

Those moments are an eternity, filled with hopelessness and despair, with terror and darkness.

The mind apart from the body.

The body apart from the mind.

Both battling the heart and soul.

Both battling each other.

Even the certitude of Truth seems senseless ... is senseless ... in those moments.

A while ago, my friend Mary, the gentlest of Gospel givers, passed along a Word sweeter than honey to rest upon my tongue:

Here's a thought that Ned brought up today in Bible study (our Sunday morning study is on the different death & burial rites). We pray, "Give us this day our daily bread." As we grieve, it is often hard to imagine going through even one day alone. But how sensitive our Lord has been to put into our very mouths, "Give us THIS DAY our daily bread." He doesn't ask us to pray for the week, month, or year. Only this day.

This day.

This moment.

Funny the things so obvious I miss.  Humbling that God brings them to me despite my sometimes distance from His house, from the pouring of His Word into my hears and the placing of His body and blood into mind.  

The other day, the daily bread I received was someone making a decision for me.  I was distraught and overwhelmed.  One of the things on my list is to do something, anything.  To get something accomplished, something to which I can point.  Something outside myself.  Something beyond the moment.

I was trying to finish painting the closet wall and door that Firewood Man and his friend built for me.  I was certain my mother, a rather talented interior designer, told me to paint the wall white.  I have two gallons of white left from the ceiling and half a gallon of gloss from the master bath beautifying.  I was all set. I had a plan:  prime, paint, finish with gloss top coat.  Only I got an email from my mother telling me that I should paint the wall the same as the other ones.  She was right about doing so, as you can see in the final photo.  Only I did not have enough of that paint left.  Plus, the primer I used up barely covered the raw wood.  [I have never experienced just how much paint it takes to cover raw wood.]  I was in a panic.  I do not have funds for groceries or the rather expensive blood work I have been putting off until this next credit card cycle.  How could I justify buying more primer and paint?  What should I do???

Searching for an answer, for a plan ... and hating myself for not being able to think of one myself ... I seized upon the idea of asking the graphics designer who also volunteers with Lutherans in Africa.  All I could think is that she knows color, understands color.  She could tell me what to do.

It is not about independence.  I mean, I am working frantically and methodically to ensure I can remain in my home as long as possible, that I can remain independent as long as possible.  Part of that work was admitting that I needed help in doing so, that I needed the social worker checking up on me.

But, contrary to what others have said to me, sometimes I need someone to tell me what to do.  That is on my list.  Call someone.  Ask for help.  That help often is telling me what to do in order to step aside and let the moment happen.  Tell me to listen and read me Psalms.  Tell me to look at the crucifix and let Jesus remind me of what is true.  Tell me to work my list: to light a fire, light the candle, organize something, play Monopoly, watch a TV show or movie, read a book, write something, putter in the yard, write a list of things to do later, complete a task. The latter was what I was trying to do, for physical labor puts me into such a state of exhaustion that I do not think or feel or anything. I simply exist. I survive the moment.

That dear woman listened to my anguish and heard me that I was not asking her to fix me or heal me or any such thing.  All I was asking her to do was to talk to me about color.  She did.  She focused on my color problem and helped me come up with a plan:  use the white paint as another layer of primer and then mix some into the Mellowed Ivory I did have on hand so that the wall, while lighter, would still match the others.  A plan.  A blessed, unbelievably merciful plan.

By the time it came to paint the Mellowed Ivory, my mother offered to fund a fresh gallon of paint so that the wall color could be the same, though in gloss.  Her offer was generous and most welcome to me, for being raised by an interior designer, I have this taste for things matching well, even if I cannot talk or understand color much.  But all that was later.  The daily bread my Good Shepherd provided on Thursday was Anna's plan, was someone who listened to me, who heard that all I needed was a simple answer, a direction to take, and who gave me such so that I could step aside and let the moment happen.

That bread was sufficient for the day, for the moment.

Something I have recently added to my list--absurdly so--is cooking.  I added it to my list because some of the things on there I can no longer do, such as play the guitar (hand strength and fine motor control) and sing hymns (I have forgotten most of the few I knew).  It is an absurd addition because the cognitive dysfunction that plagues me, two aspects of which: 1) makes following directions rather difficult and 2) means I forget what I am doing.  The latter is oft a problem in cooking because I forget that I actually am cooking and burn my food.  Nevertheless, I have had this growing desire to cook a few things, tasty things.

Were I honest, I would say the desire is two-fold: to have some measure of success where I mostly have failure now and to enjoy food before I can no longer do so.  Already my the failure of the autonomic process affecting my innards make consuming food difficult.  What is oft par for the course for dysautonomia is a dying off of digestive system organs.  My future very well may be a feeding tube and/or a colostomy bag.  Add to that the dangers of reactive hypoglycemia, uncontrolled as mine is, leading to diabetes, and my future culinary intake seems dim and meager.

Tonight's (or rather yesterday's now) moment was one in which I stepped aside by trying out a recipe for Bacon Cheddar Puffs that caught my eye.  Bacon.  Cheese.  Bread.  What's not to like?  Primarily, though, the recipe called neither for yeast nor kneading, so I thought I had a chance.

I am troubled by the fact that both ovens seemed to be having issues.  The not-yet-hot-enough indicator light came on in the upper oven in the middle of cooking.  And the lower over seemed to turn itself off even though it was still on (the coils went from red to black).  Perhaps the 1960s appliance was stressed by my using both ovens, having been worried about the rest of the dough/batter waiting while the first tray cooked, as well as three of four burners in the preparation phase.  Perhaps my use of baking stones instead of a greased cookie sheet was the problem.  In any case, I cooked the first batch 10 minutes longer and the second batch 15 minutes longer.  In fact, I moved the second batch from the lower oven to the upper oven for the last 5 minutes.

Because I wanted the success, wanted to have something different from the battle of mind and spirit I was losing, I really, really, really wanted someone to taste them, to see if they seemed like they should be.  However, I failed in enticing either person near to me who could eat them to help me out.  To me, I am not sure if the puffs are what they should be.  I really want to know that.

You start the recipe on the stove, heating milk and butter and then mixing in the flour.  After that, you remove the pan from the stove and slowly stir in four eggs, one by one, until you transition from a ball of dough to something more like batter.  Then, you add the bacon, cheese, garlic salt, onion salt/powder, and pepper.

Mine never puffed all that much, nor did they become golden brown, which are the two indicators of doneness noted in the recipe.  Mine only got crispy peaks and browned bottoms.  I did discover just a short while ago that there was another photo, which seems to be from someone's attempt at the recipe, that looked close to how mine turned out. I was slightly reassured by that.  For I actually ate four of them, two from the first tray and two from the second tray, trying to figure out if they were what they are suppose to be.  To me, they seem far more of a breakfast roll than a dinner roll.  I thought they were to be the latter, but perhaps not.  In any case, I have a dozen left sitting in the refrigerator.

When my pastor was here, he talked to me about Christ on the cross, about His understanding of what it is like to be alone and to be alone in suffering. Tonight, I found myself wondering what helped Jesus to step aside and let that moment happen.  

When he first spoke about the crucifixion, I thought of a passage from the Christian Book of Concord:

This means that the Law condemns all people. But Christ--without sin--has borne the punishment of sin. He has been made a victim for us and has removed that right of the Law to accuse and condemn those who believe in Him. He Himself is the Atonement for them. For His sake they are now counted righteous.  ~BOC, AP, V (III), 58

I do not often think of Jesus as a victim.  Truth be told, I actually never thought of Him as a victim until I read these words.  It was not until a few days later, still pondering Jesus understanding of being alone in suffering that I recalled another shocking sort of bit from the BOC:

And He did all this [became man, suffered, died, and was buried] in order to become my Lord. He did none of these things for Himself, nor did He have any need for redemption. ~BOC, LC, II, 31

I wonder how often Christians call to mind that Christ had no need for redemption.  All of that, all of what He did from birth to death, from suffering life in a fallen world even unto a horrible, painful, lingering death, was not for any need of His.  He was not proving Himself.  He was not establishing Himself as God, as the Messiah, as the King of Jews.  He was saving mankind.

So, Mary's ... or rather Ned's ... bit of sweet, sweet Gospel flowered in my mind as I thought that not only does Christ teach us to pray only for the day, only for a moment in our lives, but does so because our High Priest is one who understands, who has been tempted in every way, who has had moments for which He needed to step aside and let them pass.

What agony of spirit must Christ have born each and every day watching His beloved brothers and sisters, sons and daughters, suffer.  What anguish He mush have battled seeing death and destruction, greed and violence, pain and illness all about Him when all of that is not what God intended for His creation.  This life, this world, is not God's grand plan to teach us a lesson for our sin.  No, this life is a consequence of unbelief.  Christ willingly stepped into the pain and agony, the battle of mind and body, of heart and spirit, to bring us belief, to take away the right of the law to accuse, to condemn, to kill.  Just think, there is not a place Christ could look for relief from the reality of a fallen world.  What mercy we cannot even fathom that burden, the knowledge of what was lost.  What a gift Christ chose to do so for us, for me.

I doubt I will ever be able to write what Easter is for me.  The associations of Easter are not what they should be, nor what I want them to be.  And, right now at least, I cannot escape them.  As an evangelical, I only had Easter itself to bear. As a Lutheran, the dissonance between what is in my heart and mind and that which everyone else seems to experience now lasts an entire week, making "Easter" all the more difficult for me.

I remain thankful for Pastor Brown's blog entry about it being okay to have a sad and lonely Christmas.  Added to that great mercy was a more recent post on mourning.  I cannot begin to add up all the times I have heard over the past three years that I need to move on from what I have lost.  However, grief is not something that keeps to a schedule.  And what few understand is that each day, each week, each month, I am losing more.  Right now, I ... mostly ... can still recognize what is being lost, even if such a horrifying, overwhelming moments comes later, follow the loss.  A part of me longs for the day when I will not longer understand what is happening to my brain and my body, even though that day is my greatest fear in this life.  

Those two supports, the freedom to be sad and lonely and to mourn, have become a trio of mercy for me, by adding to them the sweet, sweet gift of the Lord's Prayer, of a God who understands His creation so intimately as to not ask us to think about the week or the month or the year or a lifetime.  We are only to think of this day and, in doing so, remember all that He provides in that daily bread.

Perhaps you realize, by now, that not having closure or success with the bacon cheddar puffs, I set out to try and write about Mary's bit of Gospel, to capture it for later, to speak of it in the hopes that others will speak it back to me when I am caught in another maelstrom.

It is how I got through this night.

I am Yours, Lord.  Save me!

Fear and trembling...

Have you ever wanted something so much you could think of nothing else and yet be so very afraid of it at the same time?

When I put together the booklet on the Christian Book of Concord (BOC), I did so because I wanted others to receive from it the same joy as do I.  Because I wanted others to know that this amazing book of the pure doctrine was for them, not merely for seminary students and pastors.  I had had the idea for the booklet for a long while before actually putting it together, because so many people asked me how I started reading the BOC whenever I talked about it.  That whenever was rather often.  Part of the booklet asks the question why read the BOC.  I did not have the right words to answer what I thought and felt until I found them online.  Thus, I remain utterly grateful that Paul McCain allowed me to use his words as a part of answering that question.

The short answer is the three Ps:  Our Confessions, the texts which comprise the exposition of the pure doctrine, are Pastoral, Personal, and Practical.

Of course, the section answering that question is much, much, much longer.  However, it just occurred to me that all three aspects of why read the BOC are exemplified in a segment of one section of one document.  So, I thought I would share it ... again ... as I explained.

Today, I had the Lord's Supper.  It has been nine weeks.  First, I was so devastated by a loss, I could not bring myself to do anything, even go to church.  Then my father died.  Then, after returning from the grueling strain of traveling, I spent three weeks in bed and another two wishing I were.  When I could possibly go, Lent arrived and all the fear it holds for me.  Fear that was magnified by the fear and guilt I carry about participating in the service of my father's funeral.  Never mind that I did not understand it would be a service.  Never mind that I do not believe what was said, spoken, and sung.  Mind that I spoke and sang out of pressure of the moment and the place rather than remain silent or, better yet, leave a service that did not teach the true Gospel.

I stopped speaking or thinking about the passing weeks. I tried to speak about my fear from the service, but mostly I hid from it.  I did not speak at all about my fear of possible unbelief that strikes me so often of late.  So, when my pastor left a voice mail message for me about seeing how I was doing and entreating me to let him bring me the gifts of Christ last week, I could not think how to answer.  He did email me when he heard about my father's death, but I could not answer at the time.  As I eventually wrote in the email I sent last week, whether I wrote 10 words or 10,000 neither would be enough.

He took my email as an invitation and called me back ... in truth, the third call in the past nine weeks, the second in the past month.  I held the phone shaking from head to toe, trying to work up the courage to answer.  I finally did.  He arranged to come today.

As much as I wanted him to do so, I kept bouncing between the fear of possible unbelief and the fear and shame of participating in the service.  Mixed in between those are all the things I think and feel about my father's death.  When it started snowing late last night--rather unexpectedly to me--I started weeping.  Great big sobs wracked my body, the same as when I listened to him talk last week and as I talked back with him for a while.  That day, he asked me about the funeral, about the time with my family. He asked.  He actually asked and wanted to know.  My father's death was not something that came and went as it seems it has been for the rest of the world and the rest of those in my life.  As I sobbed, I thought that my sin is so great that God sent a Spring snowstorm just to keep me from receiving the Lord's Supper.

When my pastor emailed this morning that he was still coming--a reply to my offer for him to choose safety over my desiring the Gospel--I started weeping again.  It is hard to admit to yourself that you were hoping the snow would have barred the way.  This wild, fierce battle of tug-of-war waged within me and I was not sure which side I wanted to win.

After entering, my pastor reached out his hand toward Amos.  Even as I protested, struggling to get the words out about how that scares Amos and he might bark and nip at the hand, my fluffy white beast wagged his tail and leaned into his hand.  I was shocked.

Once settled on the couch, my pastor asked some sort of question as he set out the elements for the Lord's supper.  I spent far, far too long answering whatever he asked (I do not remember), my eyes both drawn to and avoiding the wine and bread.  When it looked like he was wending the conversation back to the purpose of his visit, out spilled my first fear.

Then another.
And another.

Mostly, we got to the point of him wanting to give me the Lord's Supper and my insisting he shouldn't.  Mostly, I thought he wasn't listening to the fears I was speaking.  Mostly, he was trying to tell me he heard me and still believed it was good, right, and salutary for us to start the Divine Service ... Setting Three for me.

Do you believe God has a sense of humor?  I do. I could quote you chapter and verse examples that I believe give glimpses of that. However, instead I would ask, were you to respond in the negative, how in the world could the Creator not laugh with His creation, how could the Father not chuckle at the antics of His child?

Before even His blood passed down my throat, all that fear was gone.  If I were not truly worried my pastor might be overly concerned about my mental state to the point of calling for help, I would have burst into laughter as soon as I finished swallowing.  Chuckled really.  To me, it was as if Jesus punched me in the shoulder and chided, "Myrtle, why must you struggle so?  How could you think I mean you not to have My peace?  Silly wench!"

Of course, in between my listing each and every fear ten times over and then receiving the Lord's Supper, my pastor read the Gospel for Friday (when he is preaching next), which comes from Matthew 27.  Now, I am not sure which is more heady: 1) a pastor speaking Absolution with your very name stuck in with the Words "I forgive you"; 2) a pastor bringing the Lord's Supper to your bedside (literally and figuratively); or 3) a pastor reading the Living Word and then proceeding to preach exactly and specifically how that Word is for you with your very name stuck in with the Words.

Two of the reasons the Living Word was for me are comfort reasons that I am sure you could figure out yourself should you pick up the Bible and read the chapter.  The third reason, though, was wild and wonderful.  You see, he pointed out how when Jesus was suffering on the cross, the onlookers declared that the way to prove He was the Son of God was for Him to leave the cross and save Himself.  Yet after Christ died, the onlookers declared that He was the Son of God.  The proof wasn't in the living, but the dying.  And rising again, of course.  But Jesus could not rise from the dead unless He actually died.

The proof I have, then, that I am the daughter of the Son of God is not in my living, but in my dying.  I died with Him in the waters of Holy Baptism.  I died with Him each and every time He puts His very body and very blood into mine.  In both Sacraments I am joined in His death, which came from His living ... not mine.

I cannot write sensibly about my father's service.  Though washed clean this afternoon, I still struggle with the thought that I gave a witness of agreement or condoned the twisting of the Living Word that took place that day.  I can write about my struggle of wondering if I am speaking/acting/living unbelief.

Sometimes, my whole being screams that Jesus is not enough.  Six hours into the throes of innards writhing and all I want is someone there.  All I want is to not be alone.  Were you listening, you would surely tell me that I am not alone.  Jesus is with me.  I know that.  I do.  But Jesus is not enough.  He is not bodily there/here.  I look and see and taste and touch and feel alone.  [Well, aside from Amos.]

When I was weeping and trembling in the doctor's office, I wanted to not be alone. I wanted someone there to sit beside me, maybe even hold my hand.  I wanted someone to drive me so that I was not alone in the car, fore and aft, battling all my fear and shame.  I wanted someone to remind me true things when all I could think of was not true things.

I want someone to take me shopping or to fetch something for me.  I want someone to change the bedding.  I want someone to walk Amos.  I want someone to eat a meal with me.  I want someone to carry in bundles of wood.  I want someone to shovel the sidewalks.  I want someone to read the Living Word to me and someone to sing hymns to me and someone to talk about the BOC with me.  I want someone to pray with me.

I want to not be so alone.  And in those moments of deep longing I think that Jesus should be enough but is not.  I want Him to be.  I do.  But I think in my head and in my heart that He is not.

Despite my certitude that speaking such out loud would surely bar me from the altar, my pastor said ... many times over ... that he did not hear me speaking unbelief.  He heard me speaking pain and fear and weariness.  Jesus understands those things.  He even understands being alone.  That was part of Matthew 27 ... the reminder that Jesus was alone on the cross, both literally and figuratively when God turned away from the sin His Son bore.

So, still very much wracked by fear and trembling, I stopped obstructing the proceeding of the Divine Service and received forgiveness and peace.  Great peace.

No, I am not instantly free of all fear, but the fear of the Lord's Supper and my possible unbelief, was instantly gone.  At least for now.

This leads me to the pastoral and practical and personal aspect of the BOC.  In a way, even as I try to show you, I cannot truly isolate each passage and assign it a single category.  They are all in there. If you are old enough to get the reference, it is easiest to say that the BOC is Prego.

But if you say, "How can I come if I feel that I am not prepared?"  Answer, "That is also my cause for hesitation, especially because of the old way under the pope."  At that time we tortured ourselves to be so perfectly pure that God could not find the least blemish in us.  For this reason we became so timid that we were all instantly thrown into fear and said to ourselves, "Alas! we are unworthy!"  Then nature and reason begin to add up our unworthiness in comparison with the great and precious good. Then our good looks like a dark lantern in contrast with the bright sun, or like filth in comparison with precious stones. Because nature and reason see this, they refuse to approach and wait until they are prepared. They wait so long that one week trails into another, and half the year into the other. If you consider how good and pure you are and labor to have no hesitations, you would never approach.

Therefore, we must make a distinction here between people. Those who are lewd and morally loose must be told to stay away. They are not prepared to receive forgiveness of sin, since they do not desire it and do not wish to be godly. But the others, who are not such callous and wicked people, and who desire to be godly, must not absent themselves. This is true even though otherwise they are feeble and full of infirmities. For St. Hilary also has said, “If anyone has not committed sin for which he can rightly be put out of the congregation and be considered no Christian, he ought not to stay away from the Sacrament, let he deprive himself of life.” No one will live so well that he will not have many daily weaknesses in flesh and blood.

Such people must learn that it is the highest art to know that our Sacrament does not depend on our worthiness. We are not baptized because we are worthy and holy. Nor do we go to Confession because we are pure and without sin. On the contrary, we go because we are poor, miserable people. We go exactly because we are unworthy. This is true unless we are talking about someone who desires no grace and Absolution nor intends to change.

But whoever would gladly receive grace and comfort should drive himself and allow no one to frighten him away. Say, "I, indeed, would like to be worthy. But I come, not upon any worthiness, but upon Your Word, because You have commanded it. I come as one who would gladly be Your disciple, no matter what becomes of my worthiness." This is difficult. We always have this obstacle and hindrance to encounter: we look more upon ourselves than upon Christ's Word and lips. For human nature desires to action in such a way that it can stand and rest firmly on itself. Otherwise, it refuses to approach.  ~BOC, LC, V, 55-63 [emphasis mine]

So, well, all three are surely there.  Practically speaking, if you look upon your sin, you will be fearful of approaching Christ's body and blood.  Practically speaking, your nature will drive you to do so no matter what you desire.  Practically speaking, Luther gives answers to the questions that trouble you, specific answers that you can say aloud and not have to think up for yourself. 

Personally, not only do I and have I done so, Luther tells me that doing so is not unusual, that I am not alone in such struggles.  I am not alone in days turning into weeks and more.  

From a pastoral stand point, I learn that thinking such is precisely why I am worthy to approach the altar.  My looking upon my worthiness smites me, burdens me, shackles me, but it also underscores the truth that Christ's worthiness is the sole worthiness that is of consideration in who might be worthy to approach the altar and receive the Lord's Supper.  I am a sinner.  I am a saint.  This side of the veil, I will remain both.

Once again Psalm 91 resonates within me.  Once again, I am reminded of the pinions beneath which I seek refuge.  

In that single passage of Part V, my point, McCain's point, about why one should read our Confessions is made, but there are so very many lovely other bits in Part V.  

Here [the Lord's Supper] He offers to us the entire treasure that He has brought for us from heaven. With the greatest kindness He invites us to receive it also in other places, like when He says in St. Matthew 11:38, "Come to Me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." It is surely a sin and a shame that He so cordially and faithfully summons and encourages us to receive our highest and greatest good, yet we act so distantly toward it. We permit so long a time to pass without partaking of the Sacrament that we grow quiet cold and hardened, so that we have no longing or love for it. We must never think of the Sacrament as something harmful from which we had better flee, but as a pure, wholesome, comforting remedy that grants salvation and comfort. It will cure you and give you life both in soul and body. For where the soul has recovered, the body is also relieved. ~BOC, LC, V, 66-68 [emphasis mine]

See all those Myrtle thoughts in there??  A recognition of struggle and burdens.  A longing for peace and a fleeing from it.

For Christ Himself says, "Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick." Because of your distress this command, invitation, and promise are given.  This ought to move you. He means those who are weary and heavy-laden with their sins, with the fear of death, temptations of the flesh, and of the devil. If, therefore, you are heavy laden and feel your weakness, then go joyfully to this Sacrament and receive refreshment, comfort, and strength.  ~BOC, LC, V, 71-73 [emphasis mine]

Christ come for those precisely like me.  

Christ gave the Sacrament for those precisely like me.  

Christ knows and understands and so instituted.

He commands.

He invites.

He promises.

With God's grace, you may feel your misery more and become hungrier for the Sacrament, especially since the devil doubles his force against you. He lies in wait for you without resting so that he can seize and destroy you, soul and body. You are not safe from him for one hour. How soon he can have you brought suddenly into misery and distress when you least expect it! ~BOC, LC, V, 84

Even our foe knows this.  Even he.  And in so knowing will fight you every step of the way, deepening the shadows of all the dark places within your heart and mind, hoping to blind you from the Light.

On this account it is indeed called a food of souls, which nourishes and strengthens the new man. For by Baptism we are first born anew. But, as we have said before, there still remains the old vicious nature of flesh and blood in mankind. There are so many hindrances and temptations of the devil and of the world that we often become weary and faint, and sometimes we also stumble.

Therefore, the Sacrament is given as a daily pasture and sustenance, that faith may refresh and strengthen itself so that it will not fall back in such a battle, but become ever stronger and stronger. The new life must be guided so that it continually increases and progresses. But it must suffer much opposition. For the devil is such a furious enemy. When he sees that we oppose him and attack the old man, and that he cannot topple us over by force, he prowls and moves about on all sides. He tries every trick and does not stop until he finally wears us out, so that we either renounce our faith or throw up our hands and put up our feet, becoming indifferent or impatient. Now to this purpose the comfort of the Sacrament is given when the heart feels that the burden is becoming too heavy, so that it may gain here new power and refreshment. ~BOC, LC, V, 24-27

As I have said many times, I personally believe that parts IV and V are love letters from Jesus to man, penned through the hands of Luther.  Every reason you come up with to doubt and struggle against the Sacraments, Christ renders moot.  You are taunted by your enemy and He gives you the words and Words to speak in retort.  You are shackled and He gives you the key to the lock.  You are bloodied and beaten and He cleans and binds your wounds, healing you with His forgiveness, sustaining your body with His own.

Even more compelling as to why is that the riches of the Lord's Supper, for example, are woven throughout the texts.  We are not given just one way of explaining or showing or teaching.  We are given many. The Augsburg Confession, the Apology, and the Smalcald Articles all have their comforts, their consolation.  And some of the richest of all lies in the Formula Solid Declaration:

It must be carefully explained who the unworthy guests of this Supper are. They are those who go to this Sacrament without true repentance and sorrow for their sins, without true faith and the good intention of amending their lives. By their unworthy oral eating of Christ's body, they load themselves with damnation (i.e., with temporal and eternal punishments) and become guilty of profaning Christ's body and blood.

Some Christians have a weak faith and are shy, troubled, and heartily terrified because of the great number of their sins. They think that in their great impurity they are not worthy of this precious treasure and Christ's benefits. They feel their weakness of faith and lament it, and from their hearts desire that they may serve God with stronger, more joyful faith and pure obedience. These are the true worthy guests for whom this highly venerable Sacrament has been especially instituted and appointed. For Christ says:

Come to Me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. (Matthew 11:28)

Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick. (Matthew 9:12)

[God's] power is made perfect in weakness. (2 Corinthians 12:9)

As for the one who is weak in faith, welcome him; ... for God has welcomed him. (Romans 14:1-3)

Whoever believes in [the Son of God, be it with a strong or with a weak faith] may have eternal life. (John 3:15)

Worthiness does not depend on the greatness or smallness, the weakness or strength of faith. Instead it depends on Christ's merit, which the distressed father of little faith enjoyed as well as Abraham, Paul, and others who have a joyful and strong faith. ~BOC, FSD, VII, 68-71

And

It is not our faith that makes the Sacrament, but only the true Word and institution of our almighty God and Savior, Jesus Christ. His Word always is and remains effective in the Christian Church. It is not invalidated or rendered ineffective by the worthiness or unworthiness of the minister, nor by the unbelief of the one who receives it. This is just like the Gospel. Even though godless hearers do not believe it, the Gospel is and remains nonetheless the true Gospel, only it does not work for salvation in the unbelieving. So whether those who receive the Sacrament believe or do not believe, Christ remains nonetheless true in His words when He says, "Take, eat; this is My body." He makes Himself present not by our faith, but by His almighty power. ~BOC, FSD, VII, 89

Ah, the certitude! 

 
It is not our faith. 

The struggle is known, even expected.
Those weak in faith are welcome.

Fully.  Heartily.  Always.

Lord, I believe.  Help my unbelief!

Do I fight...

I have all these bits and half-written blog entries since the last one. I am not sure if I should try to finish them, just post them, or delete them.  I do not like having so many missing days of my life just now, for if not captured then they are truly ... lost ... to me.  SIGH.

Friday last week, I was at the doctor's office.  The entire hospital system to which she is now attached has a new computer system.  So, when I took my very nervous self to the check-in counter, I was greeted with questions.  Lots of questions.  Not expecting such, my nervousness increased.  Nervousness became agitation.  Agitation became fear.  Fear became rather terse words and verbal fencing trying to cease the questions.

You see, I was not prepared for them.  And I was in an office location other than the usual one I visited with reception and admin staff I knew not .... nor were accustomed to how I am when I am there.  I did not know the woman asking the questions.  I was not prepared for them.  I did not rehearse such answers, nor did I have them written down.  The more upset I became, the more ... well, put in any negative adjective you can think of and I would not be quick to disagree.

When the doctor's nurse called me back, I was already weeping, from shame as much as fear.

Truly I was ashamed that I had no civility for the admin woman.  At least I had none past her second question about my profile.  I was ashamed at how fearful I was of what was to come.  And I was fearful that I would not make it through the appointment.

My doctor is, hands down, the best doctor I have ever seen.  She is skilled in her craft and skilled in dealing with traumatized patients.  I saw multiple doctors for four years seeking help for my problem and in one visit she had a treatment plan that worked.  She saw me, Myrtle, not my fear.  Her staff are nearly as amazing as she is.  Her nurses, I mean.  Neither of them are phased by my tears and both have as much patience as my doctor.  All three of them see my tears and shaking and near-senselessness and tell me how brave I am.

Brave???

When the nurse started asking medical history questions, my answers were as sharp as a samurai sword.   At least they were until shame smote me into silence and then more tears.  She had asked me about the surgery I had in 2009.  My first thought was:  Did I have surgery in 2009?

Anesthesia is a real problem for me.  I should remember.  I should remember surgery that was just over three years before.  I should ... shouldn't I?

I did not.  Nothing.  I found only blankness in my mind.  Today, some eight days later, still blankness.  I have no idea about the surgery.  Of course, I have not yet checked the medical history notes I have started to keep.  What matters to me, at the moment, is the blankness in an area that I had to detail five times over for the disability application and appointments just seven months ago.  I should know if and what surgery I had in 2009.

I do not.

I read this article the other day by a woman with stage 4 cancer about why she continues to fight.  In it, she has this quote from a reading from a funeral of a fellow cancer patient:

"Shall I cry out in anger, O God, because your gifts are mine but for a while?
Shall I forget the blessing of health the moment it gives way to illness and pain?
Shall I, in days of adversity, fail to recall the hours of joy and glory you once granted me?
Shall this time of darkness put out forever the glow of the light in which I once walked?
Give me the vision to see and feel, that imbedded deep in each of your gifts, is a core of eternity,
undiminished and bright, an eternity that survives the dread hours of affliction and misery."

It was not sourced, but a quick Googling led me to the author, Rabbi Morris Adler, sourced on this blog entry. His poem is much longer than the snippet quoted here.

If you had asked me, I would have guessed a mainline evangelical Christian wrote this, someone raised in the faith with at least some Calvin mixed in his theological education.  For as I once was taught, our lives are not our own, as Christians, and so our God, who is sovereign, may do with them as He pleases.  I was much surprised to learn the author is Jewish.  But I was equally surprised to learn that the poem was not about untimely illness, as one might assume given the article I was reading.

Now, I would not dare to presume to know ... these days ... what a poem means unless I wrote it.  And any poem I write I would not dare to speak its meaning.  After all, I learned Thursday that a blog entry I thought left me standing naked in front of the whole world kept its true meaning as hidden as my fear and shame and confusion would wish it to be.  And I am not sure, really, that any meaning to lines quoted caught my heart.  What leapt out at me is that they had meaning for the author and they raised a thought unrelated to her article in my mind.

Though now--in writing this--a second one comes to mind as well.

My first thought was that what we see as good is not always so.  And the good God works in our lives is not always seen as such by us.  Yes, you could think I am quoting Jeremiah 29:11-13 again.  However, I heard recently that evangelicals get that passage all wrong, but not how they get it wrong.  So, at this point, I doubt I have any clue what this passage really means:

For I know the plans that I have for you,’ declares the Lord, ‘plans for welfare and not for calamity to give you a future and a hope. Then you will call upon Me and come and pray to Me, and I will listen to you. You will seek Me and find Me when you search for Me with all your heart.

Of course, it could be because I only know the passage beginning at verse 11 and ending at verse 13, yet it begins in verse 1 and finishes in verse 32, as least that little bit of the plans of the Lord.  Rather than post the entire chapter, I shall add the verse fore and aft to show the shift in context, and, therefore, a shift in meaning.

“For thus says the Lord, ‘When seventy years have been completed for Babylon, I will visit you and fulfill My good word to you, to bring you back to this place. For I know the plans that I have for you,’ declares the Lord, ‘plans for welfare and not for calamity to give you a future and a hope. Then you will call upon Me and come and pray to Me, and I will listen to you. You will seek Me and find Me when you search for Me with all your heart. I will be found by you,’ declares the Lord, ‘and I will restore your fortunes and will gather you from all the nations and from all the places where I have driven you,’ declares the Lord, ‘and I will bring you back to the place from where I sent you into exile.’

The passage changes from a generalized truth about every believer to a part of the greater plan for all of creation.  It is God working through the ravages of sin on His people toward a savior and freedom the eternal death that we sinners chose in the garden and choose daily in our lives now.  It is a promise given to a specific people who are a part of achieving His plan for all.  His plan for me.

You could believe that I was thinking of Isaiah 55 again, since I have posted that bit of God's word often of late.  Woven through that beautiful chapter promising the efficacy of God's Word is a reminder that His ways are not as our, nor are His thoughts as ours are. But, actually, I what came to mind was Matthew 23: 27-28 (the words not the reference, which I had to look up):

“Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you are like whitewashed tombs which on the outside appear beautiful, but inside they are full of dead men’s bones and all uncleanness. So you, too, outwardly appear righteous to men, but inwardly you are full of hypocrisy and lawlessness."

God has a Word for all men and for all times. At that moment, white washed tombs was a perfect Word.  It is a perfect Word still.  For God's Word accomplishes what He intends and never returns void.

I have no concrete thoughts about that poem, either the snippet I first read or its entirety.  I have no clue what the author intended or what the reader (the author of the article) found within that passage.  The poem is not really my point. Unless you take into account that my mind turned to the thought of what is good and of the perfection of God's Word.

How in the world could such an insult as calling a pharisee a white washed tomb be good?  How could it be a perfect Word?

I no longer question how the cross can be good.  Never would I choose any of the things in my life now.  Even knowing their good I would not choose them.  But the cross ... even crosses piled upon crosses ... are good.

There is a sermon that, having heard it once (online), I have listened to it more times that I can count.  I have listened to it daily. I have listened to it many times in a single day.  It is a perfect Word for me right now.  And, yes, the Psalter is in it!

In a book I am currently re-reading, a hawk spreads his wings over a pair of young griffons to comfort him.  The sight is an absurdity to those looking on, since the disproportion in size between a hawk and even a young griffon is massive.  Yet the hawk offered protection and comfort that was sure and certain and safe even if ... from the outside ... it looked futile and certain to fail against any and all assaults.  Yet the hawk was offering an external comfort for the internal fear and anguish overwhelming the griffons.  And in offering such the hawk was placing his life before theirs, placing himself between the griffons and the evil and death coming after them.  The griffons knew and understood the hawk's action and beneath his pinions they sought refuge and found peace. 

I think that looking at the cross as a place of comfort and refuge, that thinking bearing crosses as a means of our Savior bringing comfort and offering refuge, looks just as absurd.  But it is not.  I think that naming and believing crosses as evidence of God working good in a person's life sounds just as absurd.  But it is not.

The other thought I had?  Well, it relates to white washed tombs, but in another fashion.  Scholars and laymen alike can learn how speaking insults to the pharisee was a good and perfect way for Jesus to reveal the Truth to them.  It was a perfect way to speak the Gospel to the pharisees then and to the pharisees we carry around in our hearts now.  Insults so grave, so deep, so offensive are the way to speak to those trapped by the lie that the Law saves.  It does not.  It did not then. It does not now.  The Law does not save or heal or give live or sustain life or glorify life or sanctify life.  None of those things are the work of the Law.  They are the work of the Living Word and of the Holy Spirit.  They are the work of God, not man.

So, my other thought was that perhaps the reason we have 150 Psalms, the reason we have 150 prayers in the Psalter, is that God knows and understands that there are many perfect Words for many people in many places and at many times in our lives.  Throughout the Psalter are the same verses and the same refrains.  Throughout the Psalter are also wholly different verses mixed in with the same refrains.  The message of the cross is woven in threads of many colors in patterns familiar and not.  

This plethora of prayers, this over abundance of them, then made me consider why it is that some might not understand why I cherish the Psalter so deeply.  What makes sense to me may not actually make sense to another.  Not because the meaning changes from one to another, but because the presence of the cross brings its own understanding and lifts the veil from our eyes in a way nothing else does or can.

When I send psalms to others as prayers, I often will personalize them by inserting the person's name and adjusting pronouns and verb tenses as necessary.  A few times, others have done so for me.  I cherish each and every time that it happened.  Though, when I pray the Psalter myself, I never put my name in the prayers.  Sometimes it is because I dare not.  Sometimes it is because making the changes is too much of a cognitive challenge at the time.  Sometimes because so often I am not even sure what I am praying when I pray the Words.  Doing so would be absurd.

But I know that God knows.  I know the Holy Spirit takes the groanings of my heart and makes sense of them.  And I know that Jesus takes those prayers to the Father.  Never ceasing this translating and carrying of prayers.  Never ceasing!

He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High
Will abide in the shadow of the Almighty.
Myrtle will say to the LORD, "My refuge and my fortress,
My God, in whom I trust!"

For it is He who delivers her from the snare of the trapper
And from the deadly pestilence.
He will cover Myrtle with His pinions,
And under His wings she may seek refuge;
His faithfulness is a shield and bulwark.
Myrtle will not be afraid of the terror by night,
Or of the arrow that flies by day;
Of the pestilence that stalks in darkness,
Or of the destruction that lays waste at noon.

A thousand may fall at Myrtle's side
And ten thousand at her right hand,
But it shall not approach her.
Myrtle will only look on with her eyes
And see the recompense of the wicked.

For Myrtle has made the LORD, her refuge,
Even the Most High, her dwelling place.
No evil will befall her,
Nor will any plague come near her tent.

For He will give His angels charge concerning Myrtle,
To guard her in all her ways.
They will bear Myrtle up in their hands,
That she does not strike her foot against a stone.
She will tread upon the lion and cobra,
The young lion and the serpent she will trample down.

"Because Myrtle has loved Me, therefore I will deliver her;
I will set her securely on high, because she has known My name.
"Myrtle will call upon Me, and I will answer her;
I will be with Myrtle in trouble;
I will rescue her and honor her.
"With a long life I will satisfy Myrtle
And let her see My salvation."

~Psalm 91 (NASB 1977)

In the sermon linked above, titled "How He Longs to Gather You," the English Standard Version is read,  In that translation, the word "pinions" is retained, whereas in the New International Version, so popular these days, the word is translated "feathers."

The perfect Word.  Pinions are not just any feathers, but rather very specific feathers.  Pinions are the outer feathers of a bird's wings.  They are the flight feathers.  They are the literal and figurative representation of freedom.  For to pinion a bird is to remove or bind the wing feathers to prevent flight.  To pinion is also to restrain or immobilize a person by binding the arms.  To pinion is to bind fast or hold down.  To pinion is to shackle.

The fall pinioned us.  Our foe pinions us.  Satan.  The World. Our very flesh.  We are bound and shackled.  Or rather we would be save for the fact that Jesus Christ takes us into Himself, gives us His very body and blood, that we might be rescued, that we might have the refuge of knowing that we are ever sheltered beneath His wings and on their flight we will always be carried away from our foe.  If not now, this very moment, one day it shall be so.

As to the article and my own title here ... I did ponder that I doubt I could write the same piece for my illness, for my life.  Right now, I am not fighting. I cannot.

But, even if I could, I am not sure I should.

I am Yours, Lord.  Save me!