Storm Warnings

Storm Warnings

“Jesus also said to the crowds, ‘When you see a cloud rising in the west, you immediately say, ‘It is going to rain’; and so it happens.… You know how to interpret the appearance of earth and sky, but why do you not know how to interpret the present time? And why do you not judge for yourselves what is right?’”—Luke 12:54-57.

I sit and watch a storm come up the beach in the early morning. The sun is out, with blue skies to the east, but the sky is grayer to the west. Clouds move overhead. Sometimes, this dark overhead carpet seems so close that I can touch it. Fishing boats return to port to weather the coming storm. Birds take shelter. The great blue heron moves inland. The pelicans are nowhere to be seen. The mighty osprey is the last to give up looking for one more meal before returning to her nest. A violent wind precedes and announces the pivotal event, almost horizontal driving rain.

Jesus reminds us that we see signs that indicate storms may be coming in our lives. Our children act out, or their grades at school drop. We get random hints that a project is not going well, but we are too busy to take care of that matter right now. Later. Too many other things going on. We remember how a particular food affected us in the past, but we eat it anyway. Our clothes no longer fit, but we do not change our eating, exercise, or lifestyle. We ignore pain, a sign that some body part needs attention.

The same is true in our spiritual life. Our prayer life seems dry. We cannot remember our dreams. We can no longer write. All we read appears dull and uninteresting. We think of every excuse not to attend corporate worship. We stop going outdoors. It is too hot. Too cold. Too sunny. Too cloudy. We stop talking with friends. We isolate ourselves. 

In medicine, a sign is an outward or objective appearance that suggests what is going on—like the red butterfly rash across the nose characteristic of lupus erythematosus. On the other hand, a symptom describes something subjectively experienced by an individual, such as lupus fatigue or pain with a urinary tract infection, which requires some interpretation.

We are constantly given signs and experience symptoms in our outer and inner lives that can direct us. God never abandons us. We are called only to keep ourselves “in tune” to see and hear. Spiritual directors, spiritual friends, and spiritual practices are all gifts that can help us along this journey. They assure us we are not alone, and that a directional move or change in course may be needed in our outer or inner life.

My own experience, however, is that I am so much like that osprey, waiting until the very last minute before I surrender to something greater than myself.

patti martin

Hound of Heaven

Hound of Heaven

“The name is strange. It startles one at first. It is so bold, so new, so fearless. It does not attract, but rather the reverse. But when one reads the poem, this strangeness disappears. The meaning is understood.”—

J. F. X. O’Connor, S. J., in A Study of Francis Thompson’s Hound of Heaven (John Lane Company, 1912), p. 7.

Once a week, I meet with friends who share how God works in their lives. I attend this meeting on Saturday morning because I believe in miracles, which are always affirmed by what I hear and see. These are people once caught in addiction who thought there was no way out—but somehow, through the grace of God and with the help of community, found a new life. I give up my Saturday morning to meet with people I have seen for years and others I have never met. There are people from all walks of life, many of whom I would not have known otherwise.

People often talk about when they realized there might be a way out of their old lifestyle. They call it a moment of clarity. Many were desperate. Some knew this was not the path they would ever choose, but there they were.

They were all uncomfortable when they came to the group for help initially. I went to this 12-step group around Thanksgiving for the first time. I can remember seeing posters about a Thanksgiving potluck. I remember thinking, I don’t enjoy being here, and goodness knows I don’t want to eat with these people either! Today, over thirty years later, most of the people I go out to eat with are those I met through this community!

Many talk about how they did not understand what gave them the courage to attend this meeting. Story after story reveals that there is something greater than all of us—caring, loving us, and calling us to become the persons we were created to be. I also see this phenomenon in people who come for spiritual direction. Something is calling us out of our God hole—the God, the Christ within us, who, deep down inside our being, makes us aware that we are unconditionally loved.

In 1893, Francis Thompson wrote this 182-line poem about his experience of being “hounded” by God and called it The Hound of Heaven. I could not have given a better description.

Another reader, Don Follis, reminds us about his experience with The Hound of Heaven.

“The Hound of Heaven is relentless, patient, tenacious, and, thank God, good!”

Don also sent a quote from C.S. Lewis’ The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe.

“Aslan is a lion—the Lion, the great Lion.” “Ooh,” said Susan. “I’d thought he was a man. Is he quite safe? I shall feel rather nervous about meeting a lion”... “Safe?” said Mr. Beaver, “Who said anything about safe? Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good. He’s the King, I tell you.”

Joanna. https://www.joannaseibert.com/

There is a 12-step Eucharist at St. Mark’s at 5:30 in the chapel every first Wednesday of the month.

 

 

 

July 4th Anthems

 July 4th Anthems

“America! America! God mend thine every flaw,

confirm thy soul in self-control, thy liberty in law.”—Katherine Lee Bates

This week, we had a patriotic hymn sing-along at church for the Fourth of July. One of my favorites is the music of Katherine Lee Bates’s poem, “America the Beautiful.” “O beautiful for spacious skies for amber waves of grain.” Bates wrote the hymn after she arrived in a prairie wagon on top of the 14,000-foot Pike’s Peak near Colorado Springs in the summer of 1893.

I connected to the poem and the hymn when I helped plan a pediatric radiology meeting at nearby Colorado Springs in 1994. I took a six-month sabbatical from Children’s Hospital to plan the international pediatric radiology meeting. I had much help from people all over the world, but I also had a touch of what Parker Palmer calls “functional atheism,” believing I was the “only” one who needed to get most of the work done.

After a year of planning and everything was ready, I vividly remember sitting in a board meeting in May at the event hotel just before the conference began. I looked out of the adjacent wide bay window and observed, to my horror, the beginning of the last winter snow in May! I had planned in detail a multitude of outdoor activities that now would never see the light of day. I now keep a beautiful picture of snow on the tulips in front of the hotel to remind me how little I can control in life.

There were a multitude of other hiccups. We recorded speakers for a meeting video. One speaker did not like his recording and required us to redo his filming at least five times. I will always be indebted to Marilyn Goske, whom I had casually asked to watch over the video of the speakers. She patiently stayed with the speakers and missed the whole meeting to get this done.

Another hiccup was our evening entertainment after dinner. We had scheduled the Air Force Academy Cadet Choir. Then, without warning, they were called to maneuvers. Our meeting planner booked a local children’s chorus. I worried this would be amateurish and poorly performed. But, as you might expect, they were the most charming, talented, and poised children performers I have ever seen. They ended their concert by going to individual members of the highly educated, sophisticated audience, holding their hands, and singing directly to them. We all gave them a standing ovation through our tears, remembering that the children we serve as physicians can teach us so much about life and “American the Beautiful.”

I also learned from this meeting that no matter how hard I try, I am not in charge, and that God provides fantastic people around me who will take over overwhelming situations. I especially learned at the dinner that when a door unexpectedly closes, the next door that opens often is surprisingly magnificent.