Category Archives: brokeness

Dark Day Revealed

when heaven and earth shuddered

It happened on the ground we inhabit. It was the darkest of days. And all the ugliest of sins, the sorrows of every other day humans have ever suffered fell into the heart and onto the scourged back and the thorn-crowned head of the King of glory. David’s promised son, Job’s Redeemer, Abraham’s expected Seed, Daniel’s foreseen “son of man” and “Messiah the Prince” took on not only our common flesh but also our death sentence. He took it in full. He said “it is finished”.

The burial cave could not hold Him, the forces of evil around and above could not defeat Him. He beat them clear through their own gruesome strategy. Meekness has a way which hits the Serpent sideways and rises unscathed.

Don’t miss what happened here in history. It still is a stake in your ground. But like a prince dressed as a pauper you wont see Him unless you are are looking with hungry eyes yourself. What God bought here is priceless, and it is still being offered. Some see while the madding crowds around walk on by. Listen to how an old man recognized Jesus when he was only 8 days old: “God, you can now release your servant; release me in peace as you have promised. With my own eyes I have seen your salvation. It’s now out in the open for everyone to see: a God-revealing light to the non-Jewish nations, and of glory for your people Israel.” (Luke 2:29-32)

Later in Revelation, the victoriously risen Jesus said to the quasi-concerned: “I advise you to buy from me gold refined by fire, that you may become rich, and white garments, that you may clothe yourself, and that the shame of your nakedness may not be revealed; and eye salve to anoint your eyes that you may see.” (Revelation 3:18, mirroring Isaiah 55:1-2).

This painting I recently finished, is not yet visible elsewhere on my site. “Stake in the Ground” is currently hanging in Jonesborough, TN at a show, but it will be taken down next week. I don’t claim sight or skill better than others. But I feel an urgency to use my hands to express His matchless offer, given at great cost. Read the reliable accounts for yourself, learn of Jesus, who says He holds the keys. He’s the One to listen to, and He makes it simply clear.

Share

take hold

“From the ends of the earth I call to Thee when my heart is faint; Lead me to the rock that is higher than I. For Thou hast been a refuge for me, a tower of strength against the enemy.” Psalm 61:2-3

This simple alcohol ink drawing recently sold, but the image and the thought behind it remains mine. Since this handmade impression and the words inscribed around it spoke to another, it seems apt to share it here now.

Recent events, and the trauma for so many in peril has awakened me to lifting prayers in the middle of the night. I have heard others say the same. It is now our reality, worldwide, where some need desperately to hide, and others look for any alternative tower of strength they can find. There are enemies, surely there are. Hearts are faint. But fear and sadness will not grip me, though it visit me, and I have consequential response while I have breath for others. For there is One who hears every plaintiff cry to Him. He is often symbolized as “a rock” in the Bible, and yes, this One is higher than we are. Further, He is a willing refuge for any who seek Him.

“For the eyes of the Lord move to and fro throughout the earth, that He may strongly support those whose heart is completely His. You have acted foolishly in this (said an unknown seer to a dithering King). Indeed, from now on you will surely have wars.” 2 Chronicles 16:9

So take hold to this One who sees and knows, grasp on from your heart, trusting these given words, trusting also the perfect Son, Jesus, “the rock”, who bought your ticket of access before God by His atoning death and resurrection. If you trust Him, He will know it, and He will shelter you.

Share

look up

My very first remembrance of a sense of hope was when I looked up. Somehow, without knowing much else, this was a reflexive wonderment at where the changing light was coming from. Later, at a camp in Ontario, I remember the vast, punctuated mysteries in the dark skies. One particular night, this was even a rather private worshipful reckoning. What was going on? This camp was not religious at all; and no one prompted my looking up, but there I was grappling with the idea of something I sensed but could not see further. Later someone read Psalm 8 out-loud and the question posed there made deep sense to me: “When I consider the heavens, the work of your fingers…what is man that You (God) take thought of him/me?!”

Years have passed and I still marvel at that question, and the sense of knowing that came from simply pondering upward.

What is man…and isn’t his/my value all the more significant placed in context under such displays above?

In a different and desperate time similar to ours, midst the company of ubiquitous liars, the ancient writer of Psalm 120 detailed his private agony under the sun. He cast out a prayer, but his focus was downward evidenced in all his words. However, in the very next Psalm 121, the writer looks up, past all that is material and into the trust of a bigger keeper or guardian. He names and describes that Keeper. This is his turning point. It is no small thing.

But this small thing is not an easy thing for us; for not only are there contradictions on the outside, but also within our own hearts. God self-describes as Holy; and we are not. Our default is independent, even haughty and so we must fear or even just refuse any true thought of Him. How is this ever resolved? In another Psalm, the writer despairs; then the same voice later says “when will you come to me?” (Psalm 101)

He did.

In Jesus, Creator came; and this was the crux in human history. Your maker came gently dressed in a pauper’s robe, and purposefully took the full hit for every single one of us. Take this in. “…for the son of man has come to seek and to save that which was lost” The Maker of the cosmos above and the wonders below came and entered into our sorry space to finish the problem, and set the access between His holiness and our great need, between justice and mercy. And obviously there is some clean-up action yet to be done down here. He’s got the plan for that. He set the beginning and the end. In between, the time you yet have to consider this is mercy for you. So, look up meaningfully toward Him. You can do that on your own, and if you do, He will see it.

Jesus said, “when you see all these things begin to take place, straighten up and lift up your heads for your redemption is drawing near.”

an added note after watching much present “news”: We have reason for despair. We must therefore realize greater reason for looking beyond the ground. To look up is not denial, but rather an informed and necessary choice, and once you do that, there are others who need your earnest prayers.

Share

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.

Share

A Vehement East Wind

In my Images on this website, the category “Icons” pulls up a collection of meditative symbols that have moved my expression, and to me they still speak. Employing various media from collographs to monotype, from drawings to collage, are suggestions of themes which are universal as well as biblical. Each of these works, as a stand-alone visual, is an offering toward the pondering of ultimate things that matter. If the images intrigue, titles may suggest further. And in future posts I may elaborate on a couple more of these with some detail.

So this month, I want to highlight the predicament of one troubled sage. It’s a true story of how unbelievers were moved to trust the true God in contrast to the dismal character of His prophet.

Jonah’s story is found in the Hebrew Tanakh, in the last portion labeled “The Writings”. In the Christian grouping of the same writings. Jonah is called one of the “minor prophets”. He lived and labored in the 8th c. BCE . Anyone can learn much through his struggle. Even the Quran takes lesson from the tale of this Hebrew. His is a short 4-chapter drama, worth your read.

The single image I drew from Jonah is the tension left unresolved at the end of his story. Jonah himself is long gone from earth, and what he did in response to God’s words and God’s obvious compassion is unknown to us. Yet his quandary  — which mirrors so much of real life  — can be a rich mine for so much more. Jonah leaves us as he broods, sitting under the meagre shade from a wilting gourd vine, having to decide what he’s going to do with what God has said to him. Herein lies the crux of the whole matter inside his own sulking heart.

Jonah’s problem is as current as today’s news. In fact, I read this week in The Times of Israel, writer David Horowitz’ description of their current situation: “I get the sense of time stopping, of a fateful moment — a balance that can swing either way, in the Old City and beyond”.

My work here, aims at that same pregnant tension. I titled it “A Vehement East Wind” taken from words in the 8th verse of Jonah’s 4th chapter.

An east wind is an unusual shift in the natural order. Normally winds and weather approach us from our West. The reason for this is that the earth we stand on has an axis, rotating rapidly from what we call east into west from any point on the globe. Like the trails that slide over the hood of a moving car, the atmosphere meets and moves contra the direction we’re traveling. But east winds are a strange and often violent reversal, almost like an ambush coming from behind. And biblically, east winds portend danger. Isaiah said “Thou dost contend with them…with His fierce wind He has expelled on the day of the east wind.” Job agrees “The east wind carries him away…for it whirls him away from his place.” Drought is indicated by Hosea’s east wind (13:15), and Ezekiel’s as well (17:10).

So when Jonah, late in the day of his return to God’s business, finds himself insulted by an east wind, we know this is not a gentle eastern breeze but rather a sign of significant trouble.

You might empathize with the man. He tried to ignore God but that proved mercifully impossible.

In all this, I was moved to tears, and moved again even as I re-read Jonah’s account today. For God cares more for pagans than we do; and He knows how to get their attention. And in the harder end, He speaks into our angry hearts, quietly awaiting our own response! There is beauty in the wilting gourd, if only Jonah could see it. The poet John Moriarty says of his own coming to clarity that it was like being “shattered into seeing”.

In my image, it’s like a still shot in this moving drama. What am I going to do with God’s words and with His heart?

This piece was selected and now hangs in my United States’ Congresswoman’s office.

Share

in entropy

en·tro·py   (ĕn-trə-pē) n.

1. Symbol S For a closed thermodynamic system, a quantitative measure of the amount of thermal energy not available to do work.

2. A measure of the disorder or randomness in a closed system.

3. A measure of the loss of information in a transmitted message.

4. The tendency for all matter and energy in the universe to evolve toward a state of inert uniformity.

5. The deterioration of a system or society, especially when it seems inevitable: city activists who fought entropy by organizing neighborhood groups.

[German Entropie : Greek en-, in;  + Greek tropē, transformation; see trep- in the Appendix of Indo-European roots.]

(cited from the American Heritage Dictionary: https://www.ahdictionary.com/word/search.html?q=entropy&submit.x=48&submit.y=13)

Entropy is an important concept to understand for it describes the very time in which we’re living. I offer not only basic definition here but also some explanation through my own work, for I think it informs our moment.

I learned the meaning of “entropy” in a physics class; it marked me immediately as a truth. Not “my truth” (oh, please don’t bore us!) but universally recognized reality.

Entropy is a thermodynamic law, the Second Law, in fact. This means it is intrinsically true for all and has been observably tested through time. You can’t get away from it anywhere on earth. Entropically all material things degenerate. Bouncing balls left alone return to lower and lower heights, metal corrodes, soil depletes, smiles fade. As a high-schooler I had seen enough to know that things weren’t right, that breakdown and disappointment of outcomes was plaguing each and every one. I am not a philosopher, but as a chronic melancholic, learning there was a stated “law“ for this was actually a huge relief! Someone had identified and spoken the Truth out loud. Admitting this, it seemed to me then, at least maybe we could get somewhere meaningfully even in the midst of such harsh goings on.

That recognition was before I even cared about spiritual things, but I do think it was an important beginning point. One has to admit the universally bad news before any transcendent good news is even relevant!

Just recently I was pulling older work out of my flat files and re-discovered this large mixed media piece: “In Entropy”. I have entered it into my Icons gallery here, for its timeless significance. I accomplished this in 2006, and it was included in my MFA (graduate work final) show. This is a large collage pasted together from science text snippets, a photograph I took in Asia, and some hand-inked brayings onto good printmaking paper. I then layered in encaustic wax overlays.

What moved me here, and still moves me, is that in the midst of all the deconstruction going on all around, there are sure hints of pattern observable in forms and waves, in repeats and cycles. Pattern reveals a plan and a planner for those who are hungry to look into the back story. Scratchy lines (seen in so much contemporary work) are a symbol, as are sine charts which suggests process in time. We are all heading somewhere even in the dim.

I made this visual as a statement: that ultimate plan is bigger than breakdown, that hope has reason outside our narrow system, that beauty is a sign even in the dissipation, and that the Maker, the ultimate Planner is not at all perturbed. The prophets all spoke of when and how He will intervene in the mounting chaos. The time is His. Listen to Habakkuk quoting God’s words in his second report (2:3) “For the vision is yet for the appointed time; it hastens toward the goal, and it will not fail. Though it tarries, wait for it; For it will certainly come, it will not delay.” Jeremiah a couple decades later describes his own crushing trauma in Lamentations, but then he also grapples with the only One who could intervene into his particular pit “and therefore I have hope…“

Slice through or tear apart what is and what will be any way you wish. But if you dare to care, you may notice hints of promise shining through the fragments of ruin, for what Creator started, He will certainly also bring to resolution.

And though I am weighted (each day now) by the gravity pulling us all, my hands and my heart exult (every day) in the One who is truly coming as He promised. What He made He cares about, He sees how things are being handled. He will set right what concerns Him. Wait for it.

Share

a Vision and a Prophecy of UNITY

A song of ascents; by David.

133 Look! How good and how pleasant it is
when brothers truly live in unity.
2 It is like fine oil poured on the head,
which flows down the beard—
Aaron’s beard,
and then flows down his garments.
3 It is like the dew of Hermon,
which flows down upon the hills of Zion.
Indeed, that is where the Lord has decreed
a blessing will be available—eternal life. (NET version)

We’re in the home stretch now with this short burst of a psalm. Like when a marathon runner makes his last turn and can see the stadium up ahead, there’s a final push to make it in. There’s expectation here, but also a necessary reach.

In every triplet of this series of 15 ascent Psalms. we’ve seen specific need expressed in the middle psalm of its set of 3. The theme of each triplet ascends this way in the whole series. From ENTRY to TESTING to FRUIT to PERSECUTION and finally now to the dream of FINISH; the anticipation is heightened. But this last effort is the hardest. And all the more so because this is not a solitary song. It is not a singular race. This whole last triplet is a corporate expression now. Here it is a group, a family, a nation that needs to make it in together.

The Bible is honest about human effort, and especially the track record of brothers getting along well — not a pleasant picture! From the first set of brothers (murder), to Jacob’s sons (treachery), from David’s brothers and his sons to Jesus’ own brothers before His resurrection, we have conflict repeated. Unity is not a facile thing; it cannot be superficially pronounced especially for those who have to “dwell together”. Jews say about themselves “two Jews, three opinions”. How then does any group, hammering out differences, come to any place of real unity?

Unity is not one group silenced or cancelled so the other can claim peace. Coerced unity is the enemy’s game. True unity is hard and courageous work. It is the last battle, and was most on Jesus’ mind for his followers — and what He asked of His Father before He was arrested. Jesus’ torch, and His prophecies have been passed to us — wether we also get arrested or not.

Dr. Martin Luther King said it this way: “We must learn to live together as brothers or perish together as fools”

Unity means not to live in one’s own monologue but rather a teachable dialogue. And according to Rev. King, it takes the oppressed to have to bring the issue up. The ones comfortably in power won’t care to know otherwise. When a news anchor (former political strategist) says there aren’t two sides to the story, he is advocating for his monologue and has lost his way as an open minded “journalist”. Unity happens when two sides do the hard work of listening, of trying to respect, and coming to some kind of reasonable understanding.

“Come let us reason together” says the Lord. Think of that! Why would God even care to listen to our argument, our problem! And this is the key: no unity is possible without God’s help.

This core truth is evidenced in Psalm 133. The solution to our problem of unity only comes through Him, and when it does it is a true wonder. That’s why the Psalm begins with an exclamation of astonishment and humility. The resolution toward unity has to come from a source higher than any human’s meagre position.

Just as life is sustained by the material sustenance of water from on high, so also unity is sourced from above: a spiritual anointing from God. Both the material and the spiritual are illustrated in parallel here. Then Aaron is referenced: he was the first priest to the Hebrew nation. The human priest was simply not effectual until he was anointed by God with oil, and then symbolically that sustenance flowed from him to the group.

Simply and urgently put: human unity does not happen apart from God’s entrance into the situation, and our recognition of need so that He does, invited.

Mount Herman, Israel. A symbol of Unity

In my rendition of this Psalm, I tried to suggest Mt. Hermon, the highest height in Israel. Jews and pagans would look to the heights for answers (cf. Psalm 121). But if their expectation was only in the natural realm there would be no real help coming. In this Psalm however there is a picture of lasting spiritual blessing with God. For only with God is true unity possible.

Share

the crucible

In the previous Psalm of this series the writer has been hit broadside. You can hear it as he flails around in focus between the pain, his long history with this pain, the ones causing the pain, his recollection of the Lord’s justice and his imagination at what observers might say…

Psalm 130 follows and this is where the writer gets way more effectively focused. It is fitting that such singularity would happen here, for remember the triplet rhythm we’ve already seen 3x in this whole collection of 15, even as we sit now in the middle of its 4th triplet. Every time this rhythm was walked through (1. Distress, 2. Reliance, 3. Resolve) the middle Psalm of each triplet was the pivotal expression, or the necessary bridge between the problem and the resolution.

We don’t know how much time has passed between the writer’s experience of the pain of Ps.129; but by the time in his own life that he voices 130, the pain is excruciatingly worse. It is internal now, personal; it is between him and his God now, and some things have had to get clear to him in focus. Observe how he does that, how he pivots, and how he makes a direct appeal:

A song of ascents.

130 From the deep water I cry out to you, O Lord.
2 O Lord, listen to me.
Pay attention to my plea for mercy.
3 If you, O Lord, were to keep track of sins, O Lord, who could stand before you?
4 But you are willing to forgive, so that you might be honored.
5 I rely on the Lord.
I rely on him with my whole being; I wait for his assuring word.
6 I yearn for the Lord, more than watchmen do for the morning,
yes, more than watchmen do for the morning.
7 O Israel, hope in the Lord, for the Lord exhibits loyal love,
and is more than willing to deliver.
8 He will deliver Israel from all their sins.

It’s commonly easy to bail on God at any broadside hit. I love how the scriptures, in many places, are downright transparent about this. We flounder, we fret, we complain bitterly, then we look for a fix. Too often that fix is our own quick pain-relieving strategy: “out of my way, let ME handle this” (read Jacob, read Peter…). But to stay with God, to trust His character through our own tears, to wait on His solution is by far the better (even if immediately more painful) choice. Can you hear the excruciation going on here? “deep water” “pay attention”! “who can stand” “rely on Him with my whole being” “wait” “yearn” “He will”…

A crucible is defined by one dictionary as “a situation of severe trial, or in which different elements interact, leading to the creation of something new”. I find that fascinating, for there is mention even by definition of an elemental interaction before we can get to the something new. And consider this: apparently the latin root, crux, references back to the cross. In the medieval period, a “crucible” was a night lamp which illuminated that cross as the main point in the darkness.

Now, I wasn’t thinking of the cross when I painted this piece (though that reality certainly is prefigured in this Psalm 130: “willing to forgive” “loyal love” “sins” “deliver”. I was thinking of my own Psalm 129 type pain, which is spoken also in Psalm 42 “Why are you in despair, my soul? And why are you restless within me? Wait for God, for I will again praise Him For the help of His presence, my God.”

Both these cries were voiced and recorded by a God follower hundreds of years before the cross. Both of them were experienced on the cross. And both of them have been my experience. But like the focus forged inside the Psalmist’s heart, I have had to learn to look to the only fix that is solid and worth waiting for. Look at the mud color in my rendition of this hard place. The black and red intrusions show the pressure, and the paint application is fluid. There’s a linear mark indicating the cry upward, and in the distance, something comes clearer to focus on. That something is detailed by the Psalmist’s words about the abiding character of His God.

This to me, is the most important pivot in the entire collection of 15 Ascent Psalms. A lot of journey has been covered already. But there is nothing “automatic” about making it to the end intact with a heart that has stayed hot toward God. The choice of Psalm 130 is where that aim gets exampled.

Share

ambush

Where the reward took time and trust, we are suddenly thrust now into a reversal of fortune. The movement from Psalm 128 to 129 is the most drastic change in all the flow of this progression. Psalm 128 was enjoyment around a table of blessing. Psalm 129 is a cry of pain, and the scariest reality encountered in this entire 15 Psalm series of Ascent.

The fact that this can happen, and so suddenly begs some closer examination. What is the real nature of good things we enjoy? Good is typically something ‘organic’, that is, it grows with cultivation and care. Evil is like a car crash; you didn’t see it coming until it hit you.

Good is a crafted re-making. It’s participatory also: some one is involved with some stuff, and this emerges with grace (see the entire triplet just before 129 crashes into the story). Evil is autocratic, at its entry you had no say. This contrast was very evident in the beginning (read the 1st 3 chapters of Genesis). And both these realities, good and evil, have shown themselves as exhibits A-Z throughout all of human history. This is so anyone with eyes to see and a hungry, struggling heart can make up their own mind from their own experiences with good and with its opposite about which place they want to call home.

I’m calling it out: this obvious contrast between good and evil, and I am doing so because I don’t like to see what happens to people stuck in Psalm 129. I’ve hated, just viscerally hated being there myself. And I am bearing a deep sadness for a couple people I know who are there right now.

In this series of 15, we have now plunged into the 4th triplet. I’ve named it TRIAL. It begins hard and it becomes harder until some release at the end of this triplet. It is the most difficult to experience and the harshest visually. In my rendition you can see this with color, line and cords of pain. But paradoxically, this triplet (Ps.129-131) includes my very favorite and most practiced prayer. We’ll get there soon; but for now, don’t deflect the excruciating reality of this harsh place, it must be walked through before more can be realized.

Jesus carefully warned his intimates, in the last week of his life here about harsh times coming, saying that for many their “love will grow cold.” And hundreds of years earlier the prophet Habakkuk saw the same on the horizon “and I fear”.

It is an act of faith for God-followers to voice, out loud and to Him, when things get really tough, being honest with the One we say we trust. If He is real, then an expectation of justice is reasonable. If He is not real, then any words, and any expectations are entirely meaningless.

In the Jewish Talmud, Ben Bag-Bag said: “Turn it over, and [again] turn it over, for all is therein. And look into it; And become gray and old therein; And do not move away from it, for you have no better portion than it.”

I will just add (and it’s on good authority that I can) to Ben Bag-Bag’s wisdom, that the better portion is yet coming. Jesus and Habakkuk spoke of that also. This place of despair is not the end; it is only the voicing in the distress. We’re not finished yet. Even in Psalm 129 this expectation is hinted at, even as it trails off in sadness.

Psalm 129, a song of ascents

“Since my youth they have often attacked me,” let Israel say.
2 “Since my youth they have often attacked me, but they have not defeated me.
3 The plowers plowed my back; they made their furrows long.
4 The Lord is just;
he cut the ropes of the wicked.”
5 May all who hate Zion be humiliated and turned back.
6 May they be like the grass on the rooftops, which withers before one can even pull it up, 7 which cannot fill the reaper’s hand, or the lap of the one who gathers the grain.
8 Those who pass by will not say,
“May you experience the Lord’s blessing!
We pronounce a blessing on you in the name of the Lord.”

(NET version)

Share

announcing the score, Psalm 124

We’ve entered the test, but it has only gotten harder — not easier on this journey.

The image here and the words inspiring my painting come from Psalm 124. Imagine the scene “when men attacked us”, “would have swallowed us alive”, “anger raged”, “overwhelmed”, “as prey to their teeth”, “current”, “snare”. Though these words are 3000 years old, we can supply our own ready images from the nightly news. As Solomon said, ‘there is nothing new under the baking sun’.

But, take heart time-traveler, for true to form and following the rhythm established in this 15-piece masterwork, this Psalm is a pivot. It’s the Reliance Psalm right in place between Distress and Resolve. The trouble is present here, it’s new and it is intense, but the reliance spoken of is also new and real while coming from of old. This pivot is a mid-triplet turning point midst the three Psalms that 124 sits within. We’ve already seen the journeyer is in Distress in 123. The Resolve will follow in Psalm 125. But in between is the crucial Pivot which announces this turning point.

Knowing how important the Pivot point is in my journey, your journey, and in any substantive move forward, I looked to see what could possibly be indicated as exemplary pivoting when the writer is so embattled. I was focusing on, even painting the trauma and could not see the point. But the writer’s Pivot is hidden in plain view in his very 1st words. It is almost too simple to appreciate. He tells the tale of trauma, but he announces the Victor in his first breath. “If the Lord had not been…” then later “the Lord deserves praise” and lastly “Our deliverer is the Lord!”

I thought of when I took a really hard test in college, then walked glumly into the building where the scores were posted. If my test score had been poor, I would have stayed quiet, but when I saw a victory, everybody had to hear about it whether they cared or not! Such the same here: “escaped” “help” “had it not been”!

David the warrior King of Israel, is the one who wrote these words in Psalm 124. Scholars who have looked at the history of the writings about the Hebrew Kings, and the transcriptions after the exile, suggest with good evidence that the entire 5th Book of the Psalms (107-150) was compiled as a final last volume into the Psalter, after the Hebrews had returned from Babylon. In other words, David, who penned this Psalm 500 years before, provides by his example the timeless pivot into the TESTING triplet in this compilation of Ascents. David knew by much personal experience what it was to turn his mind and his heart after God. And here, as in his storied life, he turns his heart to the Victor even in the trenches.

We’ve all had tests; especially so do God-followers who are traveling uphill against the current of culture in every age. But when God is seen, named and relied upon midst the struggle, the test-taker announces where any victory comes from.

A song of ascents; by David.

124 “If the Lord had not been on our side”—
let Israel say this.—
2 if the Lord had not been on our side,
when men attacked us,
3 they would have swallowed us alive,
when their anger raged against us.
4 The water would have overpowered us;
the current would have overwhelmed us.
5 The raging water
would have overwhelmed us.
6 The Lord deserves praise,
for he did not hand us over as prey to their teeth.
7 We escaped with our lives, like a bird from a hunter’s snare.
The snare broke, and we escaped.
8 Our deliverer is the Lord,
the Creator of heaven and earth.

Share

traveling songs

I have just finished a long envisioned series of 15 traveling songs illustrated on square 14’ cradled panels with oil paint. I am celebrating today with this post, and will continue in the next 14 postings after this to show you the results.

Purposeful progressions, particularly those given to God-followers captivate me. Jacob had a dream of a ladder, and that vision kept him going even when he was heading away from home. The patterns in nature, like the enlarging chambers of a conch shell reveal a mysterious developing plan at work, enhanced by the mathematical symbolism inherent in the fractals. Oh, I could go on and on!

But instead, I’ll add my own historical reason. When I was a young canoe trip leader in the wilderness of Canada, we always made up songs to sweeten the tedious rhythm in the long hauls. Our songs made the journey swift, informed with memory, dreams, laughter and community. And so, when I learned some years ago that there is a progression of songs in the Psalms for travelers, I was interested. These walking songs were originally for pilgrims heading up the dusty climbs to Jerusalem for their yearly feasts. The trek might take days, and so the songs were likely memorized as they were stepped out. And what is fascinating is that there is a rhythm, a pattern in each triplet that gets more developed as the 15 (5 sets of 3) come to a grand conclusion.

I’ve been thinking about these 15 songs for years, and what they could mean for us. You may recognize phrases from a few of them. I’ve studied them, looked up original wording, charted the whole, sketched ideas, read commentaries, and envisioned doing the entire set made large (in my dreams) about 25 years ago! I did a smaller gestural set on paper of the 15 songs about 3 years ago and then started into oil panels until I got intimidated and quit.

But now I’ve accomplished all 15 in a way that satisfies both the whole concept and the individual parts.

Here is Psalm 120. Translated from its original Hebrew into simple English so you can consider it for yourself. This woeful complaint begins the journey.

In my distress I cried out to the Lord and he answered me.
I said, “O Lord, rescue me from those who lie with their lips
and those who deceive with their tongues.”

How will he severely punish you, you deceptive talker?
Here’s how! With the sharp arrows of warriors,
with arrowheads forged over the hot coals.
How miserable I am.
For I have lived temporarily in Meshech;
I have resided among the tents of Kedar.
For too long I have had to reside with those who hate peace.
I am committed to peace, but when I speak, they want to make war.

And as is typical of any hard slog, that first step, even as half focused as it may be, is critically decisive. A Chinese poet said something similar: “a journey of a thousand miles must begin with a single step”.

The image here is my finished visualization of #120, oil and encaustic with embedded text, enhanced with flame.

Share