Dear Grandma

    Dear Grandma,
    I remembered you this morning as I was up, too early with a kind of pregnant, sleep-deprived loneliness that I'm sure you would understand. I was looking out at our Sea, God's gift to us while we've been living in Azerbaijan (it may as well be ours, we can look at it every day as much as we like). It has a funny character and I knew at once you would want to know what it was like.
    This morning at first the Caspian Sea was just pretty. It was sort of mute while the sky took the stage with its peachy pink and thin blue you only see in early mornings, which seems like it would disappear in a puff of smoke, or tear its sheer veil if you put your hand out to touch it.
    But the sun retreated  behind clouds and began to play with its reflection on the water; for a moment the water was a gingerbread cookie, crinkled and dark.
    Then as I stared it began to glow (bright, bright, BRIGHT, remember?) and suddenly the portal opened into that Living Fire Land of Bism, a place at the Bottom of the World where gold is alive and jewels are drinkable if only you have the courage to throw yourself headlong into the burning chasm before it shuts forever. It scintillated in my vision like crushed tin foil that got mixed with the burning pile, glowing and crackling rough
    (In Azeri, "bizim" means "ours", and the national symbol is flames of fire, which in some places here actually does spring from the dead ground of its own accord, always burning but never burning up. "Aslan" is the word for "lion" as well. I begin to wonder how much Lewis knew of this tiny land.)
    But then I saw the camel, and realized the sea was actually a desert sunset, that was why it was shining so gold. A lone dromedary was standing, stock still in against the glowing heat of the sand.
    (Must I explain? Well, perhaps... it was a water tank high up on stilt legs, silhouetted dark along with the domed roofs of the houses on our hill.)

    I miss you, Grandma! Thank you for always being interested in the way I saw things. I'll try to keep on keeping my eyes open for your sake (although I'm sure you see them all much clearer from your vantage point now).
     Your loving granddaughter,
                                                      Polly

On deaths

It's midnight-o-six at the end of such a week. I should be asleep, but now something inside is scratching to get out. Sixteen hours ago one of the kindest men I have ever known got to see God. And the day before, I played the violin for the last time for the man who perhaps appreciated it most, our irrepressible friend Steve.

   "No man ever saw God and lived. And yet, I shall not live till I see God; and when I have seen him, I shall never die."
    --John Donne

This I know. I can't begrudge my dear grandfather the sight of His Savior, Whom I could hope to nothing sweeter than to see, even tonight! But as I said here, nothing can quite prepare one to see a man's widow and five daughters shoveling dirt onto his coffin, or your father (who didn't always even get along with him) to surrender to an agony of unashamed weeping...nor to watch your brother carry out your grandfather wrapped like a mummy in a sheet. I closed his eyes with my own hands first, a final touch to his dear face which was so beloved to me. They were empty by then. Every time I thought I was done crying, I cried again.

Is it even grief? When you're soso happy that HE'S happy at last? That he can see, hear, taste, chew, walk, run? That his skin is clean, his ankles not swollen, and his mind clear again?

That he is now like Jesus?

"For when He appears we shall be like Him, for we shall see Him as He is". Actually, that's not really sad.

Somehow it seemed like I recuperated too fast. Is it even OK to at first be nearly ill, so I can't walk up the stairs without breathing hard, like I might just faint at any moment, I was so happy-sad -- and by evening to be enjoying a light-hearted meal with the family, and a kiss from my beloved?

"I say to you, unless you are converted and become as little children, you will by no means enter the kingdom of heaven".

We can't stay grown-ups.

Quick takes

--I am lip-syncing a rap today for Bible School graduation. Europe had changed me.

--Seeing pictures of my nieces on FB makes my heart hurt.

--Seeing pictures of my fiance on FB makes my heart hurt.

--Graduating today makes my heart hurt.

--I celebrated the 4th of July by serving a three-course dinner (complete with VERY SWEET iced tea and Mississippi Mud Pie) to European/Asian/African staff over an American flag while the Marine Band played Gershwin...but no fireworks.

--I'm coming home. In THREE DAYS.

--And then I'm getting married.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

My Jesus, my friend.

This is my re-entry song :)

Happy Birthday Will!!!

To my favorite man in the whole world.

Enjoy your day!

:D

Thinking about heaven

    "No man ever saw God and lived. And yet, I shall not live till I see God; and when I have seen him, I shall never die."
    --John Donne

PETER

This piece was written for school as an attempt to get inside the mind of Peter the Apostle during the time before Jesus’ death. Highlighting a few encounters with Peter from the book of Luke, I want to understand better how Peter responded to Jesus in his hidden man—perhaps we would call it the subconscious. Feelings are often hidden, and the thoughts that make them are even more subtle. I will of course take some liberties with the small amount of text that is descriptive of him, using much personal interpretation of his inner workings. Jesus has a profound and searching affect on all those who know him, “judging the thoughts and intentions of the heart”. My intent is not to vilify or cheapen the character of this mighty man of God (as he became) or to make him “casual”, but by examining (and making assumptions about) his interactions with Jesus to be challenged in my own heart to acknowledge sin and be changed by the Son of God. I hope it may do the same for you.

 

(Luke 5:1-11)

So this spiritual guy was interesting. Peter really respected the way he taught the people, cutting to the practical realities of life, not making up a lot of extra rules to keep. He seemed to see past appearances and be concerned with authenticity—Peter liked that, and didn’t mind lending his boat for Jesus to sit away from the pressing crowds. (“He knows a good boat when he sees it, too.”) But then Jesus stops talking to the crowds and starts telling him how to fish! That was slightly amusing. Jesus was great at preaching, but now he was entering Peter’s sphere of work—one more cast of the nets after an entire night of catching NOTHING! “Why does he care about my business?” But Peter was game—to prove Jesus wrong, perhaps. (“Maybe he’ll find out he should leave the fishing to the fishermen. Not that I’d mind getting a few fish today after such a rotten night…”)

Then whammo! FISH! (“What in the world?? That’s a lot of fish! Heheey…Wait a minute. Isn’t he a carpenter? How does he know about fish? And how did he know they would all be just there just then—especially at this hour of the morning?! We never got this many even at night! This is creeping me out…Who IS he??” Peter forgot the groaning nets and collapsed to his knees—“Go away from me, Lord; I am a sinful man!” But Jesus was full of surprises. Not a “thank you very much for finally noticing how amazing I am”. He didn’t let Peter stay long in his state of shocked worship, but hauled him up. “Don’t be afraid”. (“Darn right I’m afraid when I see a catch like that come in at eleven in the morning! He’s got some kind of power I’ve never seen before and he’s standing in my boat! He doesn’t know who I am—I’m a pretty rough-and-tumble guy, and…well, religion isn’t my favorite subject…”) “From now on you will catch men.”

Ok…??? Admittedly, Jesus had a head on his shoulders, and strong hands as well. He really seems to care about normal hard-working people—and he could work hard himself, helping pull in all that load of mackerel. (“And didn’t he go and help Rachel’s mother when she was nearly gone? That wasn’t so long ago. She’s been a bit different since then…What a kind thing to do. He really means business, doesn’t he? Business with real people…business with me…? Now he wants me to follow him. Why?? I don’t understand him very well, but he’s got something I want.”)Whatever the strange affect Jesus seemed to have on him, Peter couldn’t be content not to find out more. “I’m coming!” 
 

Fast-forward…the ministry honeymoon was over…(Luke 22:21-24)

That was some kind of a strange dinner. Not a typical Passover, the way Jesus had talked about blood and flesh…He’d been acting stranger and stranger this last week. And now he had just made a frightening prediction that one of these twelve would betray him! Treason was on the minds of all the disciples now. They began to discuss “could it be you, or you—or me? Who will it be?” and then the conversation turned to WHY it wouldn’t be each one himself… (“After all, don’t we all have these things in our favor? Don’t we all have amazing characters? This one has bulldog-ish loyalty, that one is very reasonable and never angry, this one is very religious, that one is such a hard worker…”) Each one was secretly thinking his own personality was really the best for everyone. Hadn’t they all given up everything to follow Jesus? And they all began to compare their own merits to the others’, assuming none of them could actually be the traitor…Rather, indeed, “Which of the should be the greatest”?

(Luke 22:31-34)

But Peter had a shock indeed when the Lord turned to him; “Satan has asked to sift you as wheat. But I have prayed for you, that your faith shall not fail; and when you have turned back, strengthen your brothers”. He had just been talking about his betrayal (in rather ambiguous terms). He didn’t name any of the others, but now he singled out Peter! Did he then mean that Peter was the one? “Denial, even three times!” No wonder Peter protested. Nobody wanted to be That One who would do such a shameful thing. Yet here Jesus was already talking about when Peter would turn back to him. (“What do you mean, turn back? I’m not going to leave you in the first place, I swear! Gah, why do you have to accuse me of such a rotten thing! Are you trying to make us do something terrible?”) But he was beginning to tremble a bit inside… What if he was right? He quickly covered up that frightful thought with braggadocio. “I am ready to go with you to prison and to death!” And the nerve of Jesus, to be talking already about praying for him, strengthening him, protecting him… (“He always sounds so holy; why must he expect the worst of me? I’m not so bad—and certainly not THAT bad! I’ll show him, just as soon as I can, that I am loyal.”)

(Luke 22:47-51)

The time has come! Yes, admittedly Peter had already fallen asleep while trying to pray. Even after that little confrontation with Jesus earlier about loyalty…It was a little embarrassing when Jesus came back and was so disappointed with them all. (“But honestly, Jesus has always seemed a little over the top with prayer! He can’t expect everybody to be as dedicated as that!”) Oh well, Peter was a practical man. Spiritual stuff always left him a little dry. Besides, he already left his wife and maybe a bunch of kids to have the Passover with Jesus! Who does he think sacrificed the most to come and be with Jesus, particularly on this special night when most families were together—the singles or the family guys? (“He ought to appreciate the effort we’ve all made for him so far!”)

But now! Something is happening. Wha…WHAT did Judas just do?! God—was that it? It was! That was what Jesus was talking about at the table. (“Why that little rat!”) The others were panicking as they saw what was about to happen, helplessly looking at each other. “Jesus! Say something! Should we fight?” but Peter didn’t wait. (“Boy am I glad it wasn’t me after all. Jesus sure scared me with that bit about Satan sifting. Now I know it was Judas all along!”) His hand flew to his sword—at last, something he knew how to do! A moment to prove his ultimate loyalty. (“He ought to know I will follow Him anywhere—go to jail with Him, even die with Him!”) But he didn’t go for the soldiers. (“Seriously. Those guys are tough.”) And not for the high priest. (“That might lead to some serious trouble!”) Rather just that little twerp carrying a torch—thwack. (“I can fight for Jesus if he won’t fight for himself!”)

And what did Jesus do? “Hey! Peter! Put away your sword. (You little yapping puppy)…Here, let me fix that, young man.” Peter could hardly believe his eyes as Jesus quickly passed his hand over the youth’s bloody head and the ear was restored. Well, Peter had seen him do things like that—but Jesus was always concerned with faith before! Not a word about that now, he just did that on purpose to contradict what Peter did. (Barker 1985, 1552.)

(“What in the world. What a frustrating man! Why does he have to be so …passive? Why does he just LET these self-righteous, intolerant religious people walk all over him? We all know that’s the best man that ever lived—even more, the Son of God! I know who he is. He’s got true religion, not they. God, if He would just defend himself—or at least let US defend him! Why does he have this infuriating death-wish when there is so much potential?! I love that guy more than anybody I know, but he bugs the life out of me. Here I am trying to protect him—I’m not a traitor like that idiot Judas—and he goes and makes a fool out of me in front of our common enemies! Doesn’t he know who his friends are?”)

(Luke 22:54)

No wonder then Peter followed the captors at a distance. He can’t seem to do anything right in Jesus’ eyes, whether he’s talking, trying to pray, trying to be practical...Everything he does is wrong somehow. And there’s still this ominous prediction lingering in the back of his mind; “you will betray me three times”… (“What does he expect me to do?! None of this makes sense. I’m just a fisherman and I’m doing the best I can but he makes everything so difficult.”) So he stuck around, but not too close. He was beginning to wonder if it was worth it to support Jesus much longer. Sure, Jesus had shown such amazing power in those days of ministry—feeding four and five thousand people, healing crippling illnesses, expelling demons with a word…What happened to that confident, laughing man who called Peter out of the boat to walk on the water? (Such a crazy fun time! Was that even real?) And the authoritative judge with a whip giving the boot to the temple money-changers, denouncing the Pharisee hypocrites? It didn’t seem like the same person who was now being led away in the darkness without lifting a finger. What happened to the vision of restoring justice? Setting up this Kingdom he’s been talking about, defending the poor, delivering the captives, setting everything to rights? Why…is he just walking away??

(Luke 22:55-62)

There stood Peter, watching the sickening story unfold, waiting to see what would happen now at the high priest’s house. In his helpless situation (he’d done all he knew how to do in the garden already, and Jesus backhanded him with a rebuking “shame-on-you!”) he felt useless and incompetent, angry with himself for not being able to rescue Jesus, angry with Jesus for not letting him… And enraged with Judas, wishing he could just get his hands on that faithless traitor! (Although it also didn’t make sense why Jesus just let him do what he wanted if he knew it ahead of time! He could have avoided this whole scene. “Or at least he could have told us! We would have taken care of that scoundrel! Why didn’t he tell us who it would be?” There it was again, that unnerving quietness of the Lord heading doggedly to his fate…)

He had already forgotten Jesus’ words to him just after predicting Judas’ treachery… “you too, Peter, will deny that you even know me!” He could see Jesus standing inside the house surrounded by dozens of angry men cranking out lies against him. Peter was tired of thinking about this mess. “There’s nothing I can do any more; if he wants to get out of this fix, he’ll have to do it himself. I’m finished. And I’m freezing.” He moved toward the fire they had lit in the courtyard.

And then the accusations began. First it was an annoyingly intense doorkeeper gal with too-big eyes, staring at him… Piquantly she remarked to her companion, “I know that guy. I swear I saw him with the Nazerene rabbi!” Peter heard it and cringed inside. He quickly tried to hush her up, “Oh please, I don’t even know who the guy is! (Why does she have to bring it up right now? This is not exactly the time I want to be associated with him, he’s making me so mad!)”  But it didn’t stop. Another, and still another spotted him and called out, “There’s one of that Jesus’ tagalongs! Look, he’s from Galilee too!” Every word was a prick on Peter’s wounded ego—that name especially was about the most irritating sound he could think of and he was SICK of hearing it! “I don’t know what you’re talking about! Would you just leave me alone!!” he exploded, with all the frustration and disappointment that had been roiling around in his insides for the last six hours since Jesus called him out on the servant episode.

The people sat in shocked stillness for a brief moment, and in the silence one decidedly ordinary sound suddenly pealed into Peter’s consciousness—the crackling adolescent crow of a nearby rooster. Jesus. Dear God! The supper, the warning, the prayer…it all came flooding back. He wheeled around toward the house and could see Jesus also turn his head, oblivious to the confused arguments flying about him, and for one moment lock eyes with Peter.

That look—so quick. One second of horrific realization of those simple words he had just uttered. They had come so naturally he hadn’t noticed…so easy. And the blinds fell from Peter’s eyes. That was just it. It was so natural for him to turn on his best friend. As if he didn’t care what happened here in the most critical time. Had he really just said he didn’t even know this radically loving man? What WAS he inside if such an atrocity could wander so easily from his mouth? (“Somebody just kill me now. GOD—I can’t stand myself any more!”) Now he knew. Judas wasn’t the only one to betray the Lord.  No, Peter never turned his hand against the Lord. Only, in the end, his words… Was there really any difference? Didn’t Jesus say something once about denying before his Father anyone who denied him before men? Peter saw the blackness of his own horrible choking Sin spreading like spilled ink over his entire being and there was no escaping its corruption. This was him. The big fisherman cracked and wept with all his soul.

 “I have prayed for you, Simon.”

(To be continued…)