Subtle Cues

"Don't tell the horse walk...just think walk," said Jill.
The student looked dubious, but sat, heels against the horse quiet and still, and thought "walk."  Lady walked forward.
"That's creepy!" she said, "How does she do that!?" She repeated the thought commands a few times and Lady always moved forward at the approporiate time.
"Subtle body language is cuing her," said Jill, "She can tell when you shift your weight slightly, lean forward, or turn your hips. The horses here can read the body cues, but they are lesson horses. They know most of the people on them are students who don't know what their bodies are cuing the horse to do so most of the time they ignore those cues with students."
Subtlety in cues. This is something I could use some work on. I am definitely a more "smack you over the head with a message" sort of person. There is a lot to be said for subtlety.

I think God is a subtle God. He doesn't have to be. He can part the Red Sea, make a bush burn without being consumed, turn water into wine, walk on water, raise the dead....but most of the time, He is less obvious. Why? I am always wondering why. If the goal is to draw the world to Him, why not smack us all over the head with His presence?

There is a story in the book of Luke in the Bible of a man condemned to Hell who begs for just a drop of water from Abraham, who he sees in Heaven. If he can't be given that, he begs that God would warn his loved ones so that they don't end up in the same place as he.
Abraham tells the tormented soul that they have been warned- they have the warnings of the Bible prophets.
The tormented man cries out that they won't listen to that, but they would listen if someone from the dead goes to warn them. Abraham tells the man, if they don't heed the warnings of the prophets, they will not listen even if someone rises from the dead.

Subtle cues matter. And they are always there but maybe we have learned to ignore them. And worse still, we miss the big smack you over the head cues as well with hearts hardened in disbelief.

"I feel so bad for her!" cried the rider.
"It's ok," said Jill, "When you learn how to let your body relax and just do what you subconciously know to do, she will respond and you won't need to force her at all."

Luke 16:
¹⁹ “There was a rich man who was dressed in purple and fine linen and lived in luxury every day. ²⁰ At his gate was laid a beggar named Lazarus, covered with sores ²¹ and longing to eat what fell from the rich man’s table. Even the dogs came and licked his sores.
   ²² “The time came when the beggar died and the angels carried him to Abraham’s side. The rich man also died and was buried. ²³ In Hades, where he was in torment, he looked up and saw Abraham far away, with Lazarus by his side. ²⁴ So he called to him, ‘Father Abraham, have pity on me and send Lazarus to dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue, because I am in agony in this fire.’
   ²⁵ “But Abraham replied, ‘Son, remember that in your lifetime you received your good things, while Lazarus received bad things, but now he is comforted here and you are in agony. ²⁶ And besides all this, between us and you a great chasm has been set in place, so that those who want to go from here to you cannot, nor can anyone cross over from there to us.’
   ²⁷ “He answered, ‘Then I beg you, father, send Lazarus to my family, ²⁸ for I have five brothers. Let him warn them, so that they will not also come to this place of torment.’
   ²⁹ “Abraham replied, ‘They have Moses and the Prophets; let them listen to them.’
   ³⁰ “‘No, father Abraham,’ he said, ‘but if someone from the dead goes to them, they will repent.’
   ³¹ “He said to him, ‘If they do not listen to Moses and the Prophets, they will not be convinced even if someone rises from the dead.’”

Tragedy Averted

Normally, I don't use this blog for book reviews, but this is a book that has an important message. I have been reading a classic by Theodore Dreiser, An American Tragedy. It is considered one of the best examples of "pathos" in literature. That is putting it mildly. I had to read it holding it at arm's length while peeking through my fingers. It was compelling and I couldn't put it down, but it was wrenching, as well. In short, it is about a man who plots to murder one girl after falling in love with a second. Christianity is mocked through most of the book, but in the end, in a rather shocking turn around, it is the devout mother and a selfless pastor that are able to finally bring the villain to a true understanding of what he had done, repentance, and peace. No other character in the book shows really any admirable quality. I suspect Dreiser didn't intend that to be the case, based on his sentiments about devout Christians through 9/10 of the book. But in the end, the only character I would want to be were the two Christians who appear at the end of the book.

The book was also compelling because the events were staged in upstate NY where I grew up. My hometown is mentioned, as was the very small town where my folks had a lake house. The hero, who is simultaneously a villain, starts off discontented but very likable. Throughout the book, I am rooting for him, even when he makes horrible, immoral choices. I keep praying he will change, seeing that he is spiraling downward into deeper and more consequential sin.

However, he never sees it, not till the very end of the book when confronted with a loving and uncompromising Christian. I almost threw the book aside in disgust as Christians were mocked, sin was rampant, and undesirable characters seemed to win the day. But now, having finished it, I am so glad I stuck with it. In the end, God wins. And Dreiser was a magnificent writer, somehow making the despicable main character one I sympathized with, struggled with, and prayed would overcome his significant frailties. I think it might be a book everyone should read, because it shows as well as anything I have ever read how small sins balloon into a life of sin. And yet even after a ruinous descent to becoming the handmaiden to Satan, God was there in the end to exhort, rebuke, uplift, and ultimately forgive.

In interviews during his lifetime, Dreiser said that , "Life is an accident from the beginning." He also believed that Christianity might keep our daughters virtuous and has some value for that reason, but it would never last. He could not accept or believe that the teachings of Christ were eternal. I find this very consistent with what I saw through 9/10 of his book, but it cheers me to see that in the final outcome, even this brilliant writer,  at best an agnostic cynic, could only find peace and redemption for his character through Jesus. I am again struck how ultimately, unwittingly perhaps, we all end up proclaiming the power and glory of God .

Isaiah 1: 16-20

 ¹⁶ Wash and make yourselves clean.
   Take your evil deeds out of my sight;
   stop doing wrong.
¹⁷ Learn to do right; seek justice.
   Defend the oppressed.
Take up the cause of the fatherless;
   plead the case of the widow.
 ¹⁸ “Come now, let us settle the matter,”
   says the LORD.
“Though your sins are like scarlet,
   they shall be as white as snow;
though they are red as crimson,
   they shall be like wool.
¹⁹ If you are willing and obedient,
   you will eat the good things of the land;
²⁰ but if you resist and rebel,
   you will be devoured by the sword.”
            For the mouth of the LORD has spoken.

A Flood of Music

The groundhog was drenched and huddled on a broken piece of lumber that was wedged in some sticks on the edge of the flood driven waterfall. The poor creature shivered, its soaked matted hair dripping. It clung to the small plank, with no escape. I watched this footage of the Owego Flood on a youtube video. Then the scene switched to nearby railroad tracks, which were as far as the flood waters rose. The groundhog stood somewhat dazed, but alive, on the tracks.
"We saved this little guy, " said the caption, on the video.

"How's the flood patrol?" I texted my brother, who was still ensconced in his flood zone home. It would still be a month before his family would be able to return, but he would not leave it to be robbed or violated any further than the flood itself had done.
"Great! We have heat, water, and electricity now!"
"Hooray!"
"And I got three Stakmore tables!"
"How many people did you have to kill?"
"None! I just sweet talked the nice lady at the Stakmore factory. Christmas came early to Owego!"
"Did you get enough chairs for them all?"
"No...  :( "
"Well, I suspect with residents returning your prime looting days are over."
"Yeh, probably. You know, truth be told, we made out like bandits on this flood."
"Yeh, if it weren't for that $100,000 deductible on your flood insurance...."
"Well, it's only money.  We can make more of that. You know it is the love of money that is the root of all evil...not just having money."
"So I've heard...I wouldn't know from personal experience."

I thought of the video John had sent me. His son, Greg and he had gone wandering the flood receding streets, where piles of belongings were strewn on every curb. Then he passed a piano. John stopped as Greg filmed. John began playing simple tunes on the water damaged piano, battered and ruined, dumped on the street of the flooded city. It didn't sound as awful as you might think. In fact, it was a victorious melody, of sorts. A car slowed, stopped, and honked, waving a fist. The video closed with John laughing, and waving at his new comrade, forged in the wake of disaster.

Those two images kept popping up in my head all day- the shivering groundhog clinging to a plank while water raged around him, and my brother playing the ruined piano. I wondered how the groundhog had been saved. The water was rushing violently around him, on the edge of a waterfall. I can't imagine he was saved without some risk to his savior. I think Salvation always involves danger, and suffering for the Savior. It must have seemed  like pretty grim chances of survival to the groundhog.  As soon as he dried out, lifted miraculously from the flood, he would have two choices. He could cry out in anger to the world that had so suddenly shifted beneath him and allowed a flood to carry him so far from his comfortable place...or he could play a metaphorical piano, lifting a melody of comfort and gratitude to a species not accustomed to music in a flood.

Psalm 6 : 1-9

 ¹ LORD, do not rebuke me in your anger
   or discipline me in your wrath.
² Have mercy on me, LORD, for I am faint;
   heal me, LORD, for my bones are in agony.
³ My soul is in deep anguish.
   How long, LORD, how long?
 ⁴ Turn, LORD, and deliver me;
   save me because of your unfailing love.
⁵ Among the dead no one proclaims your name.
   Who praises you from the grave?
 ⁶ I am worn out from my groaning.
   All night long I flood my bed with weeping
   and drench my couch with tears.
⁷ My eyes grow weak with sorrow;
   they fail because of all my foes.
 ⁸ Away from me, all you who do evil,
   for the LORD has heard my weeping.
⁹ The LORD has heard my cry for mercy;
   the LORD accepts my prayer.

Helmets in season and out of season

On the record near hottest day of the year, we went shopping for snowboard helmets. I always do my winter shopping in summer. I usually save 50-75%. Presuming this isn't the end of the world, much as recent events would suggest it might be, Asherel needs a snow board helmet. She had been wearing her bicycle helmet the past two ski seasons, but sport helmets are specialized for a reason. The number one reason is, of course, that the helmet companies want to make money. The second reason is that a bike helmet covers only the top of the head, but a snowboard helmet circumnavigates the skull.  Lining the helmets of various sports up against each other, it is easy to determine which sport is most likely to shatter one's skull into tiny fragments.

We found a helmet that was 50% off because it was a 2010 model. It fit Asherel, was a pretty  1970's countertop green, and the price was right.
"You should get a helmet too," said Asherel.
"Why? My bike helmet is fine.... Wait.....Do I embarrass you skiing in my bike helmet?"
"Oh no," she said quickly, "Why would a 50 year old woman skiing in a child's pink with purple flower bike helmet embarrass me?"
I bought a snowboard helmet at the sharply reduced rate as well.

Truth be told, I hate wearing helmets. They never quite fit my small head correctly (which is why I wear a pink child's bike helmet) and they rub my hair and pull on it. However, I do realize that helmets are a safeguard, and sensible, and it is foolish to take up a high speed, crazy sport like skiing or snowboarding without wearing a helmet.

And, helmets are biblical. God warns us in both the new and the old Testaments to "put on the helmet of salvation."  Helmets protect the head, the part of the body that thinks, sees, hears, smells, and tastes. If we want our senses and our thoughts to be safe, we put on a helmet of salvation. Evil lurks as real to the believer (or anyone...) as the likelihood of a fall lurks in the day of a snowboarder. Only a fool refuses to wear a helmet, or pretends he will never fall.

Putting on the snowboard helmet was easy, once I found the right size- xxs.  How does one put on a "helmet of salvation", however?  Fortunately, we don't even have to do that ourselves. If we believe in Jesus, He does it for us. And fortunately, we don't even need to wait for a sale on salvation, out of season. It is always free!

Ephesians 6:16-18

¹⁶ In addition to all this, take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one. ¹⁷ Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God. 

Isaiah 59:17

He put on righteousness as his breastplate, and the helmet of salvation on his head

1 Thessalonians 5: 8-10

⁸ But since we belong to the day, let us be sober, putting on faith and love as a breastplate, and the hope of salvation as a helmet. ⁹ For God did not appoint us to suffer wrath but to receive salvation through our Lord Jesus Christ. ¹⁰ He died for us so that, whether we are awake or asleep, we may live together with him. 

Stumbling through a Silent Night

I carefully screened all the notes- we knew all of them!
"Asherel!" I exclaimed, "We can play Silent Night!"
I plopped the guitar book down in front of her, terribly excited.  I had learned to read music as a child by playing a Christmas song. I think it was Hark the Herald Angels Sing (one of my young kids had asked me who was Harold and why was he singing....). Whatever the song, the notes had predictably climbed up and down the staff so that I could connect the key on the organ with the code on the music page. That somehow unlocked music reading for me. (Maybe it was The First Noel....as usual, my memory fails me....)

Anyway, Asherel is taking guitar lessons and I am a sucker fish, sitting in on her lesson, since I am the chauffeur, and absorbing as much as I can without having to pay for my instruction. When we get home, Asherel always sits me down and patiently practices with me.

"I can't do it!" I cried, banging my head on my guitar.
"Yes you can Mom, you are getting better!"
"No, my fingers can never find the g or the e, and forget about the f or the c. It is impossible!"
"Mom, stop being negative. It hurts the teacher's feelings."

I glanced at her. Cruel , cruel world that makes children mirrors! I must have used that line many times in home school for it to spring so easily from her lips. What other teaching methods would I soon be subjected to?

"Would you like to do the chords for a while and I will finger pick?" she asked gently.
I am good at the chords....well, the F twangs and vibrates a bit unmelodiously but it is getting better. I rock at the C and G, and sound like a pro on E minor. 
I sniffled, "Okay."
She finger picked while I strummed "Silent Night."

There was no snow, but the Christmas tree was decorated all in white snowflakes and crystal icicles. It shimmered in the next room as my daughter and I slowly and somewhat inexpertly strolled through the song, the night no longer silent. The halting, but quietly beautiful notes of the hopes for humankind settling around the peaceful scene of another mother and child filled the room and our hearts.
"Good!" said Asherel with an encouraging lilt in her voice as the last chord slowly dissipated in the air.

We might have the song down by Christmas. Asherel certainly will. She is a very quick study, and her fingers seem to find the notes easily, and her memory allows her to have a song firmly in her brain after playing it just a few times. I, on the other hand, will have to play it every day, several times a day for the next month, and am pretty sure even then, I will not have memorized the notes, and my fingers will probably still stumble on the A and E.  But what I will have fully absorbed is the message. I never remember specifics, just like my fingers never seem to alight on the right string the first time, but I always remember what I am playing and Who I am playing it to. Fortunately, God honors the offering of the weak, and in this I will never disappoint Him. We stumble along, halting in speech, infirm, blind and lame in so many ways.... but God accepts the most despicable and imperfect soul as easily as the refined. 
"Just come to me", He beckons," I will give you fingers that will find the A and the E, and I will give you songs that sparkle in the silent night just as brightly as the stars that I have placed there to guide you!"

Psalm 37:24
"though he stumble, he will not fall, for the Lord upholds him with his hand."

Psalm 92

 ¹ It is good to praise the LORD
   and make music to your name, O Most High,
² proclaiming your love in the morning
   and your faithfulness at night,
³ to the music of the ten-stringed lyre
   and the melody of the harp.
 ⁴ For you make me glad by your deeds, LORD;
   I sing for joy at what your hands have done.
⁵ How great are your works, LORD