Category Archives: time

what Mary knew

it was a sudden intervention*
which startled her to fear
the words of hope familiar, longed for
but now through her God comes near

how could this be, she pondered —
She gathered all she knew
but came up short and so she asked,
her soul then given view.

a Holy golden seed was offered
though existing long ago,
Her permission yet was asked for, granted.
And wonder now would grow.

the daily changes subtle,
something within was true!
9 months with mercy mounting
she voiced out all she knew.

“Great things He’s able”, she rejoiced
“He brings down and lifts up”
She saw through corridors of time.
But more would be her cup.

the private becomes public
the darkness blind to light
the Caesar seems to be in charge
and delivery will be tonight.

sudden things — then slow things —
and pain at the pace of a mule,
but asking Him and waiting
would be her lifetime rule.

She couldn’t know, nor any
How grand His reach would grow
Or how long before fulfillment
of His promised final show

But what she did know kept her
Midst all that seemed undone
Midst all that pierced her heart in sorrow
This was God’s Holy son!

And then the One who turned the tables
Came back for every one
who granted, like Mary first, allowing —
then waiting, asking, holding the Holy One emplanted

* “intervention”= late 16th century (in the sense ‘come in as an extraneous factor or thing’; extraneous meaning ‘separate from the object to which it is attached’): from Latin intervenire, from inter-‘between’ + venire‘come’

falling and rising

The display of color has been brilliant this year, now mostly all dimmed and down in my neck of the woods. Such vibrancy artists and photographers strive to capture.

How lovely this transition we see every year from light green buds, to broad leafy canopies, to the loss of photosynthesis in the aging cycle of a leaf — which yet gives us so much dying beauty! It seems like a slow mercy to me. Years ago, on a Fall hike I sat in wonder watching the gentle flutter of yellows and reds. Almost ad infinitum, these bits flickered through a tall stand of trees. The paper thin light catchers were like dressed up dancers, letting go from their support and one by one falling gracefully to earth. The float-fall was profoundly beautiful, oh… that a one-year old leaf could be a reflector of such fading glory.

We can observe and even take heart from these cycles in nature, it’s part of our natural background. Tides move in and out, and this is strangely comforting. Seasons flow around the calendar. Sound has a rhythm of waves, and history has repeating patterns. The nine month cycle of deciduous leaves gives those of us who live for decades an object lesson in common grace that we can ponder every single year.

For we all will fall, but unlike the simple leaf, there is potential for us also to rise. The Bible speaks of this: first a universal Fall early on in the book and then a singular Rise predicted by the prophets. The Rise is encountered early in the New Testament and then the same is promised for many at the end of history. This progression is echoed whether positively or negatively in the life of many a character in the pages of the book. Lives lived out show a trajectory from rising to falling or falling to rising. The results are evidenced in time.

Here’s one example, I went to an art show this past week on the University campus. Artists can be like watchmen on the wall, they often see farther, and look for clever ways to warn, to celebrate or to announce. Amongst the collection in this show were several obvious clarion calls that our progression as a nation is falling, and falling fast. I saw nothing there which gave me reason for hope. I walked out truly depressed.

2000 years ago, a prophet in the temple at Jerusalem approached a set of parents when they brought their child to the temple for his 8th day dedication. The couple were poor and likely indistinguishable in the hubub of a crowded temple court. But the old Jewish seer was alert for he had been promised that he would not die before seeing God’s salvation.

Luke records this story from an eyewitness, the mother of that child. Lifting the baby from her arms, the prophet suddenly announced a joyous declaration that salvation, the coming of the promised rising had come! But then, tenderly he turns to the baby’s mother and adds “This child is destined to cause many in Israel to fall, and many others to rise. He has been sent as a sign from God, but many will oppose him. As a result the deepest thoughts of many hearts will be revealed. And a sword will pierce your very soul.”

His falling and his rising would be the causation for the destinies of many to follow.

This child’s public presence in the world would bring all too soon a sorrowful piercing; a full participation in human dying, the falling that every soul must experience one by one. But then…but then the rising would commence.

the rock and the horizon

Geologists have a name for the earliest epoch in earth’s history: the Pre-Cambrian era. This is when the continents took shape and life forms began to emerge. At least from the evidence left to investigate, the Pre-Cambrian is ground zero, or the canvas upon which fossils and sediments later laid down on top of this early bedrock between the waters.

Earth scientists also say that in Northern Minnesota we can see and walk on some of the oldest Pre-Cambrian bedrock which is exposed to us on earth. These are ancient rocks. The evidence to support this is in the surrounding geology, the dating of this basal igneous material, and subsequent metamorphic compositions in these intriguing forms.

Add to this that some geo-scientists who have done extensive core sample research around the globe see patterns in the lay-down which indicate how and where uplift, rifting and plate subduction cycles occurred above the earth’s mantle. From the evidence seen in the rocks and in computer modeling, it is postulated that in earliest earth time these rock outcrops along the deep trench of Lake Superior may have been some of the highest mountains in the original continental Pangea. I only learned this recently, having read a geology text during Covid. But I have been scampering along this settled volcanic material since I was young. This ledge rock has long fascinated me for its firmness, color and especially the fracturing of its angles. It is just wonderfully magical stuff!

So this summer I got to be up there again. On a rainy day, I captured a section of this rock with my phone, did some quick sketches and then finished a painting inside in a couple hours. I am proud to highlight this 8×10 oil for several reasons. First, I set up and framed a visual composition which still appeals to me every time I look at it. I am critical of my work, so that is saying something. The color is true, and the semblance of the wetness on the top planes of rock reminds me of that interesting moment in time when I was looking at this ancient stuff.

This painting is more than visual though, for conceptually it is a statement about past/present/and future, and so it holds weight symbolically as well.

The rock is ancient, and to me more valuable than diamonds for its enduring hardness, while also being entirely accessible to anyone! Those two aspects: ancient and available are so rare. What could be better on earth than something so old and so commonly present for anyone to stomp around on? But it has a mysterious beauty too. It is no wonder they call this area “artist’s point”; it attracts people even before they have any clue as to ‘the why’. Here’s why for me: Rock is often used as a metaphor of eternal things, referenced by Job, Moses, David, Isaiah and Jesus (who Himself was called “the Rock”). This metaphorical yet available rock named Jesus, sits now in His high place, having settled things in time, our time, every time., and time to come.

The horizon is a symbol or a sign to me also, and I reference that often in my work. My horizon on this particular day was cloudy, almost mirage-like and I loved that. Like a wrapped present, or a pretty lady with a veil is the mystery of this glimpse. More is coming, more is behind my view of things. It’s an anticipation which is sure though shrouded. Paul the brilliant 1^st century Christ-follower said, “we see in part but not the whole”. Our sight is limited, our understanding of all that is yet to come is dim. But we do know the important things, the vital things and we know all we need to know. The rock is solid, a basis for sure confidence and solid footing. And that far line out ahead of me is just a teaser.

So time right now is my present reality, looking back and looking forward today, and right then when I captured this view. I’m on a continuum therefore and this is comforting. No other life forms can enjoy an awareness and a thoughtful contemplation of history: what happened before, what happens to me now and what will happen in the future. Time is a continuum, a linear travel forward. And the future can be glimpsed here symbolically at least. Seen things are only shadows of more important things, says the writer to the Hebrews..

I remember my Dad explaining that the furthest edge we see is only a few miles away because of the curvature of the globe. The huge lake surface then is like a clinging bulge we can only catch a scant glimpse of. But the maker of this lake, this rock and the maker of me sees it in wholeness and as He’s promised, will be bringing it to completion.

whoops!

If you are one of the small number who came onto my blog yesterday afternoon, and if you listened to the video posted there, then you got a sneak preview! It probably hit you as weird.

I have un-published that video clip of me describing a 3D piece I made, paralleling it to an expectation I have. My reason? That clip is scheduled to post automatically once I am lifted out of here. I had the clip recorded as a testimony of my confident hope. But it is not for now since I am still here, and still working and still making plenty of mistakes.

Oh the quiet joy in time, and the slow opportunity to start in again!

I just got home from an 8-day Plein Air fest and counting travel to get up to Northern MN and back with my supportive husband (who just got back himself teaching on another continent) it was a haul. Needless to say, we’re a bit disoriented. Normally, I post on the 15^th of every month in which I am present, pushing the publication date of my video to a later time. I missed the timing this month, hence that may have been for you readers a bit of disorientation as well. As Mark Twain put it ”the reports of my death are greatly exaggerated.”

But I will die. And so will you.

The real question is what will you find on the other side? I entreat you, with all I have in me now: don’t let that reality be a whoops. Jesus, the only one who anticipated well, who made not one whoops, who defeated death’s sting and prepared his followers as to how to be ready had much to say about the end and of His coming back. And for those who “love His appearing” there is great reason for joy. Even as our world is self-destructing, even more so as it is. “No one knows the day or the hour”, Jesus said. No one needs to get all wadded up in fear or blinded by all the lies which are multiplying (He said that too, same chapter). Your way out, the only safe way out is both simple and sure: Jesus. Learn Him.

Meanwhile, in this present mean while, my studio is crammed with projects and half starts, big ideas and small beginnings into them. This piece is a “whoops” right now. I started it on an October visit up at that lake, and tried to bring some resolution this trip, only making it worse with September color. I may trash this, you can see if you look closely how I’ve already tried to scrape into some of the garish green, or I may try to improve it if I effectively can within its context. I have time!

a shifting

There’s a shift going on. I know it personally and in my own work. I sense it nationally and globally (you probably do too). But I’ll speak for myself alone here. I am not afraid. In my 7^th decade now, I am getting better, bolder and more anticipatory about what is ahead for me in every way. Here is just brief attempt to herald this with words and through my art.

This past month I was asked to show a collection of my Master’s thesis work (completed from 2004-2007), at a fabulous new gallery in our town. Time is such a teller! I can see it now better than I even could when making these pieces. The whole collection is somber, full of stark verticals and traveling horizontals. The hues were muted the textures broken. The ideas that spawned each piece were all rooted in gravity while I was pondering what holds us in place, what governs time and people which is above the material that we can see?

That last sentence still captivates me into my present work. And I use a landscape ground in everything I do, I just can’t get away from it, even in the more abstract pieces. The tagline I’ve given my work “Conceptual Landscape” remains importantly descriptive. Concepts drive my work, ideas drive my actions, but the seen aspect of this is from a certain place on the land right in front of me. To put it a different way: the land is the stage-set only, but the winsome script is what keeps me and others watching and listening. To represent this effectively, visually without saying it out loud takes a level of skill I am only beginning to touch. But I am on it, like never before. Here is just a sample page of my current sketchbook.

The stage-set is beautiful, and oh I have so many references all around me, at different times of day and lighting! My colors now are brighter. The light is more compelling even especially on darkening days. The textures lead, the lines are often diagonal now, rarely settled horizontals or intersecting verticals. And somehow, in the pieces which are ready to frame, there is a sense of potential, of excitement, even surprise in how the marks, my marks, are contributing to a quick conclusion.

the Artisan will perform it / sign of the almond rod

I am currently using my monthly blog to highlight some older important work. These selected pieces are from my personal past but poignantly each is relevant (I believe) to our global present. And each is a handmade sign toward the future. If you are a regular reader here, you may’ve already recognized that TIME and its sightless flow is a really interesting concept to me. Time is both linear and rhythmic with repeated echoes. Time in this sense, is like light energy which is both particle as well as wave. Time flows and it cannot be encapsulated. It impacts every one of us who live within its circuit whether we want to acknowledge it or not. Time can easily go on without us.

Time is more interesting and emblematic than any single one of us musers who sit in our own period on a timeline can grasp. A most published cosmologist admits “Scientists in every discipline are now far, far removed from the reality they claim to explain.” (1) This writer goes on to detail how we just don’t really understand 95% of what hints to us of existence “out there”.

Such is the ineffability of many big and important things as well as this mysterious entity we live in called time. Any pondering of things not understood ought to humble us? Plato said “For every one, as I think, must see that astronomy compels the soul to look upwards and leads us from this world to another.” (2)

But back to time: it is going somewhere, it leads in one direction: Past/Present/Future. And in its wholeness, time is revelatory of a much grander story: with a beginning, a middle and an end. This whole process is superintended by an Artisan (if you’ll allow an even bigger IDEA) who exists beyond time in eternity. Would you be willing to handle that possibility if even for one of your moments?

What prompts me this month is the pregnant report of one spokesman for this Artisan, the Hebrew prophet Jeremiah. I have slipped back into his record to glean what he might say to my own time, my own nation’s experience of decline. Jeremiah lived through the last gasps of a once grand culture in the 6^th c. BCE. He is appointed to speak into that history, and he is given hint that this won’t be easy. In the very first chapter of his tome, Jeremiah describes an exploratory dialogue he is graced with. The Artisan and Creator who formed the prophet from his mother’s womb, says this: “What do you see Jeremiah?” Jeremiah looks, identifies an object in front of them and replies. “I see a rod (branch) of an almond tree” The LORD then takes that common thing and makes it a lesson: “You have seen well, for I am watching over my word to perform it.”

Huh? ok start with the given basics here: The rod is real. It is tangible, it is alive for a time, like a cut flower; but it is only a rod. It will bud however, for God says He will watch over it to perform it. He said this, not me, not Jeremiah, we are just witnesses to the edge of a very big thing.

Any historically alert Hebrew, hearing Jeremiah, would’ve hearkened back to an earlier rod of Aaron’s, some 8 centuries prior. That rod budded, and then produced whole almonds! That fruit producing rod was kept as a holy symbol of God’s miraculous ability in spite of the people’s rebellion. Jeremiah would not have missed the hope embedded in this given simple verbal sign. From their past into his present and assured by God for a future, Jeremiah had something to fasten onto in his heart: God said He would do it in spite of them. God would watch over every promise He had made through time to accomplish it. His words then are where we best be watching with expectation. Herein is lasting hope. Give Him an honest try. His words aren’t hard to find.

Believing is Seeing, Michael Guillen, Tyndale Refresh, September 7, 2021, p.97
The Republic, trans.B Jowett, Project Gutenberg, June 22, 2016, Book VII

“working the curse”

We’re all navigating amongst cursings. They fly around now-adays into our ears or on our screens like angry gnats. Any curse from any source is a pronouncement toward harm. The first record in ancient documents of the word “curse” however was from God’s mouth, not man’s. And the consequence of that should be a heads-up over any puny castings from mortals.

What is startling about this cursing from God, described in Genesis 3, is that it comes in response to man and woman’s disobedience. God approaches and then has specific words to them; but the immediate cursing that God voices is directed onto Satan and then secondarily God places a curse on the ground like a lightning bolt which bypasses the humans.

The ancient Hebrew word, arar, means “to hem in with obstacles” “to bind” and that consequence is what sticks presently on Satan and also on our earthly ground. We live in a cursed reality, with a cursed supernatural enemy, though we ourselves are not cursed! Lesser beings may aim to curse you, but God has not yet made pronouncement on you. The time He gives each therefore is potentially restitutional. Only God has the moral purity, perfect vision and the cosmic authority to make any claim over one’s soul. But God waits. His self-description is that He is “slow to anger”, but then He has “eyes like fire“.

So, this is important to know going forward for any who might be wrestling with a God-sized heaviness. He waits in mercy. He waits on us. But the prophets were clear with one unified voice that one day God will deal. The wise ask then, how does anyone operate meaningfully in such a damaged reality now? Blaming Satan, blaming the earth, blaming others is not our business and only a wasteful distraction. A Psalm writer makes a counter exclamation before God in this tension of wonder: “what is man that You, God, are mindful of Him?”

Here’s a visual example of taking a quiet and responsive stand midst broken territory. I made this mixed media piece some years ago. It now belongs in a private collection in Nashville. The layered-in pages of text form a silent arc over the head of a lone figure, which I collaged onto the panel, and then painted over into a ground. Field rows are a symbol to me of the work we have yet to finish; and the recession of fields toward a far horizon has long fascinated me as a symbol of time, a coming destination and perspective until that day of completion.

This figure pauses midst the work of cultivating. Is he anticipating? Is he weary? What is he looking at if not the work itself? There is some kind of work going on inside him; and that is his business. Thorns and tangles are represented here, but they are only context. The thorns are not the point. The silent pregnant gaze of the un-cursed farmer is the point.

among the lampstands

Today I am highlighting this ink monotype, which I pulled onto homemade paper several years ago. I have it in my “icons” collection on this website because the image, and the idea behind it, serve as a simple reminder into a most auspicious visitation: Jesus. He spoke urgently and at length about things to come in the book of Revelation, the very last book in the Bible. The Greek word in the first sentence is apokalupsis, which means “the disclosure” or literally “to take off the cover” “the appearing of Jesus Christ” as the sentence and then entire book continues.

Most people I know are afraid of this book. It is daunting, no question. But there is much that is beautiful in how Jesus prepares any willing reader to understand, to even be blessed and to be prepared. It is clear in the 1^st chapter that Jesus, “the alpha and the omega” “the living One” “who holds the keys” is the giver of the words that his last remaining disciple scribes. John sees and details Jesus as He now is, with the cover off.

Jesus walks among the churches, in the beginning chapters with knowledge, with “eyes of fire” and gives them words: some of comfort, much of challenge with very specified warnings.

The 7 lampstands, as depicted in my image, were historical churches, each different, some are soon to loose their standing (and did). Jesus knew and He gives direction before all hell breaks loose, for any who would simply take heed. In aiming to understand better these churches and the particular warnings given them, I recently did a series of 7 paintings that correspond, attempting to simplify and to symbolize what I read in chapters 2 and 3. My collection of paintings will be opened tonight at a local arts center. You can see a preview here. My hope is that any viewer of the work will find themselves curious enough to look into the words that have moved me for themselves. Jesus spoke, John wrote and I painted so that some would have the willingness to pay attention.

Listen to how the old man John was moved. Here is his dedication in the 1^st chapter: “to Him who loves us and released us from our sins by His blood.” John died holding onto this dedication.

Even if you consider this just ancient literature, can you give me one good reason why you would hide in ignorance from such a diligent last accounting?

What goes down (goes up)

It is simple and yes, it is scary; but only if you will be honest about what you cannot escape. Your only alternative is to dismiss or pretend for a while — in arrogant assumptions: “there is no God!” “no one sees” “I’m in charge here” “you’re an idiot” “there’s no dialogue” “we’ll enforce this, for the power is ours and we’re on the right side of history”… You may be comfortable for some time this way, but in the end, a higher reality will overcome you. What will you say then?

You have no explanation for why every single human, in all human history goes down, one same direction: down, back into dirt. In this we are all the same. Your body has a shelf-life which betrays every ultimate supposition. The wise grapple with this; for raw honesty is the only way that leads to a scrap of hope.

I am compelled to put these morbid words down. For kidnappings in Nigeria, assassination in Haiti, beheadings in Indonesia, torture in Afghanistan and every hidden thing done in certain American clinics, and in certain Chinese wards has me sorely vexed. I cannot just shrug off what’s going down. I am one voice, from one soul in the same time period as you are. But I am calling it out with real concern.

This is what holds me: God sees it, He sees it all. God hears it. And God hears me. My blood and your blood has something in it that answers back to Him, even if the embodied owner of each DNA code could or never would talk to his Creator. The blood cries up. It did at the very first spilling of just one body ripped open. It is generations of sound waves now. This will not end well for those who won’t address Him while they yet have time to do so here.

“But they will be held guilty, they whose strength is their god… and though it (the Lord’s answer) tarries, wait for it…” Habakkuk 1:11 and 2:3

In contrast to this waiting, I saw a large banner in an upscale American town which proclaimed, “Rage against Hate”. This makes shortsighted sense to some. Human rage always has its reasons, but it is blind to the multiplied effect; and all the collateral damage is worse than any deadly virus. I heard a young woman proudly say recently “burn it all down” and she sincerely thinks that somehow what will arise from the ashes will be productive for the powerless. Tit for tat only ever expands the sorrows.

So, one prophet, instead of raging with men, actually took up his case by raging with the God of justice (worth reading the whole account). He later recorded this and I echo it often:

“Lord, I have heard the report about Thee and I fear. Oh Lord, revive Thy work in the midst of the years, in the midst of the years make it known; in wrath remember mercy… I heard, and my inward parts trembled. At the sound my lips quivered. Decay enters my bones, and in my place I tremble. Because I must wait quietly for the day of distress… Yet I will exult in the Lord.” (Habakkuk 3:2, 16,18) The prophet does not get there easily, but he got there.

Here’s what I say to myself and encourage as prescription for anyone. In your recognized vulnerability, take your case up. Life cries to LIFE, better sooner than later. All blood cries up for an account anyway. What’s in your blood is consequential metabolically but also spiritually, regardless of what you have assumed about God or yourself. Blood travels upward though it is heavy, even buried in the ground. That’s what this image is about.

For what goes down does go up.

when the glass was shattered

This icon hangs prominently in my studio space. It’s an important personal memory, but also a much broader symbol for any other pilgrim. It’s like a “memento mori” which was a visual signal in medieval art, often a skull placed in the picture as a reminder of the reality of everyone’s end. My subject here is more than that certainty, but rather a still shot reminder of the lingering time I have until I also drop. I titled this “Lingering Moments”. This is a monotype, a one-off impression made on paper with an etching press. I printed this in 2006.

The impetus for my imagery here was the sight/memory from my television screen, five years earlier, of papers flying out of many broken windows in the twin towers in New York on 9/11. The horror on the ground, and behind those windows could not be seen nor heard on the tv. That was a mercy, a veil at least for us glued to our screens trying to grasp what was really happening there. But I was fixated on these floating bits, as if they were what the Japanese call ukiyo-e = “pictures from a floating world”. That day, what was actually floating were fragments from meeting agendas, spreadsheets, architect elevations, love notes, hand scrawled grocery lists…whatever had been in minds just earlier for thousands of people…and now an ephemeral randomized conglomeration cast into the air.

There was a strange lightness that masked the horror. Five years after that my heart was still etched with the memory. When talking about this with a friend, how to adequately illustrate the import of that day, he said more time would be needed before any sensitively viable imagery could be accomplished… 20 years out my heart-etch remains, and so today, I make an attempt with words.

The flying papers were stand-ins for the gravity of it all. The papers represented particular individuals, doing common work, with unique histories now all jumbled into a common national tragedy. And there was time in the falling of these fragments. That was what struck me: the slow articulation full of weight, like last rites prayers, moments for reckonings on one September day no one ever anticipated.

The papers all fell and turned to dust, but while they wafted in the air there was some time, precious little, yes, but moments just the same between impact and finality.

Time, if even just the minutes it took for the papers to lay down on the dirty street, has long seemed to me a mysterious grace. Whether it is 70 plus years assumed from first breath to last, or just 39.37 hours, or 3 minutes and seven seconds — the time any of us have individually is as if a slow-motion camera has been turned on. The moments we have provide a serious possibility for when clarity can pierce through. Let…a sober…wisdom…pierce, my friend. Time is an ephemeral resource toward that end, it’s a declining dash, a whisper of terminus for each of us. Attend to that whisper — with all your beating heart.

remember

As we enter the very last triplet in this series called The Psalms of Ascent, we are hearing more than a brief plea, but rather now a treatise of important national memory. We’re moving from the personal to the corporate. In Psalm 132, we are in the longest Psalm in the collection of these Hebrew traveling songs. King David’s written and very personal prayers we’ve recently encountered. 132 is an older Psalm from the same era; but it broadens to a corporate call forward. Psalm 132 looks back, but also importantly ahead to a very sure God-promised and covenanted future, and specific promise made to David. We are peering currently here into the world-wide importance of Israel’s story, which is highlighted in so much of the Bible’s macro-story. Inform yourself, especially in our own times at hand, as to what is yet coming for all earth dwellers. What has gone before is pattern for what is yet to play out. To know this is to know the way forward.

Why would an American gentile, born midway in the 20^th century have any interest in these words? If it weren’t for a Jewish friend who spoke of Abraham to me personally 52 years ago, I would have remained oblivious and blinded to most important things. Have you not yourself seen enough evidence in current events to hunger also for someone to speak to you about what is real, true and lasting?! Eugene Peterson wrote poignantly in 1980 “A Christian who has David in his bones, Jeremiah in his bloodstream, Paul in his fingertips and Christ in his heart will know how much and how little value to put on his own momentary feelings and the experience of the past week.” (!)

These are traveling songs: as has been outlined in my previous 12 postings. These entire 15 psalms concern the journey of celebratory return. They are arranged and patterned out for the sons of Israel, on their way up to Zion. The language is clear about this throughout. Those of us who are not of the Hebrew tribes can take instruction from these at least as symbolic parallels, as watchwords; but the words themselves were written by and for Hebrews, especially in this very last triplet before us now. I may not live through the fulfillment of what these Psalms point to, but it is possible you will, my friend.

As already detailed, every triplet in this series followed a certain cadence (1. distress, 2. reliance, 3. resolution). Here in this last triplet we see the very same. Psalm 132 is the distress of longing, memory and urgent appeal. The last two psalms yet coming will quickly and very concisely move like staccato beats to the corporate national finale. Like in a fireworks show, you will know it when you see it! The full throated unified reliance and then joyous resolution is yet coming, but not before some detailed distress. This has been long promised in all of the Book.

Mature direction pays attention to history; any wise counselor, gentile or Hebrew knows this. The best questions I ever heard were given by the angel of the Lord to a distraught woman in Genesis 16: “Where have you come from? And where are you going?” Without a clear-eyed sense of what went before and what is yet coming, we are at the mercy of whims and lies. You have enough evidence of that kind of stupidity all around you. Don’t stay there paralyzed in media fog, speculation, political manipulation, empty promise and bias. You are being lied to and your gut already knows it.

In my illustration of this important historical Psalm, I aimed to give a sort of timeline sense of the historical darkness which existed before Israel ever came into the land of promise, and the darkness and destruction which came upon them later from both the Babylonians and then later the Romans. The ladders in the middle reference Jacob’s dream repeated in the human aspirations of every other wrangler who aimed for what he was after without relying on God’s good direction. But there is a way given, “even for Jacob” .

Remember the God who still promises. He is the bigger point in all these Psalms. In the end, He alone is the golden sustainer.

The singers of these songs were not the first to seek after God’s sure presence in a walking trek, nor would they be the last who will seek Him with songs of remembrance. Why don’t you consider joining them?