Reflections on a Winter’s Night

Posted on January 2, 2015 by Doc Arnett

A three-quarter moon at the half point of night
throws its bright light across the frozen grass.
I walk out past the concrete sidewalk
into the shadows of the birches
crumpled on the leaves and small broken branches.
A northwestern wind sends a deeper chill
along the path to the barn.

The horse stands
in the slightly warmer shelter of the shed.
Eager to be fed, he paces the pen
as I bend the stiff shape of the hose
in between the rails and lift the steel handle
to release the streaming plunge of fresh water
into the heated hold of the electric tub.

From inside the barn, I rub his neck for a moment,
then scoop up his tiny ration of sweet feed,
drop it into the needs of a hanging bucket,
fill the small rack with hay.

On my way back to the house,
I remember science’s point about the moon
being nothing more than a mirror,
simply reflecting the light of the sun.

I reckon when it’s all said and done,
no beggar cares much whether or not
the love in a bowl of hot soup on a cold day
makes its way to her directly from the Source
or has bounced from one screen to another.

Seems better to reflect a greater light
than to live in the night of absorbed darkness,
and whatever rises to the needs of others
is far better than an icy indifference,
no matter how much it glitters and glimmers
in the shimmering of its own admiration.

H. Arnett
1/2/15

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Blessing for 2015

Posted on January 1, 2015 by Doc Arnett

May this New Year
find you near to those you love;
even though the miles may keep you far away,
may you be as close as light is to day
within each other’s hearts.

May this New Year
bring you wisdom and peace,
and may they both be gained
through the least pain possible.

May this New Year
teach you the most needed lessons,
and may they come in the ways
of grace and kindness,
and may blindness never be curse or cause.

May this New Year’s Day
give you pause to remember the year just past,
and may you find a soothing healing for all of its pain,
a humble gratitude for all of its gains,
and a deep, rich warming from every smile.

May this New Year’s Day
not be some brash beginning,
a blind believing in the solution of resolution,
but rather a faith-and-hope-anchored continuance
of good-becoming-great,
and the polishing of some well-used traits
founded in the fineness of your better nature.

May this New Year bring you:
renewed courage to be a blessing—even on your worst day,
renewed determination to forgive—especially those who do not deserve nor desire it,
renewed commitment to love—yet with wisdom and discretion,
renewed depth of hope—especially when mornings dawn cold and gray,
renewed vision—to see the unseen yet not be blinded by grandeur or plainness,
renewed power of faith—that never lets the path determine the destination.

And may you bring to and throughout this New Year
the best of all that is beautiful
within your heart, mind and spirit.
And may you treat all others
as you would be treated.

H. Arnett
1/1/15

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Turnabout

Posted on December 16, 2014 by Doc Arnett

If you happened to catch me in one of my rare moments of honest introspection, I reckon I’d have to admit that we’ve been spoiled a bit lately. Unseasonably warm weather in the last week of autumn will do that. When you can go out in your shirt sleeves and comfortably mosey down to the horse barn, lollygag around with the feeding and stop to pet the cat on your way back to the house, you have to admit: yeah, we’re getting spoiled.

Now some folks appear to have a moral censure sort of response to spoiling, well at least when it’s someone else’s spoiling, they do. They see it happen with a toddler at the mall and they tsk, tsk, cluck their tongues, shake their heads sadly and are absolutely convinced they are witnessing the decline of the world’s current version of the Holy Roman Empire. They see some little brat throwing her bat or glove during a ball game and it’s the same thing; “Now that right there is what’s wrong with this country. Somebody needs to take that little missy out to the woodshed and teach her some manners.” Just for emphasis, they might feel the need to spit a clutch of tobacco juice on the ground right where you’re standing.

I do have to admit that the sight of someone else spoiling their kids, their grandkids, or adult children is just absolutely sickening. It is thoroughly disgusting to see someone else getting undeserved favors for which we’d happily trade our neighbor’s eye teeth or other treasured parts.

Now just in case we folks here in the midst of the mildest bit of December you could ever hope for might be starting to arouse some of that ill will that is usually reserved for folks in southern Florida during January, I just want to let you know that you can relax a bit. You can re-direct that resentment toward some vastly overpaid CEO, professional athlete or other entertainer.

With the wind howling out of the northwest and our morning temperature at approximately one-third of what it was yesterday, I can assure you there was absolutely no lollygagging during the morning feeding today! But we might want to ask ourselves, is it really godly to resent someone else’s good fortune and feel a wee bit of secret pleasure when some sort of ill comes their way?

H. Arnett
12/16/14

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Green Pastures

Posted on December 15, 2014 by Doc Arnett

For the past couple of months, we’ve been pasturing the horse in the southeast pasture. If his range of vocal expression more closely matched ours, I’m pretty sure he would debate the definition of “pasture.” Since the hard freeze we had back in early October, there has been a serious degrade in both quality and quantity of grass in the field. With his close grazing and the lack of fresh growth, there’s not much left. Basically, the one-acre field is a blotchy mix of tall dead stuff he won’t eat, absolutely bare spots where his pacing hooves have eliminated all vegetation and the in-between of tasty stuff nipped nearly to the root. The only pasture-like aspect at this point is that he does have room to run.

On Saturday, we moved Journey back over to the north pasture, which hasn’t been grazed since September. It’s not lush but compared to the other field, it’s a virtual smorgasbord. As soon as I led him in through the gate, he gave a little buck and snort. I was going to lead him around the field and review the boundaries. After that little bit of enthusiasm, I decided I’d just turn him loose and let him supervise his own re-acquaintance. Roping yourself to a happy horse carries a certain level of risk that I chose not to make a part of my weekend.

After I unclipped the rope from his halter, Journey dropped his head and started nipping at the fine-bladed bluegrass growing at the fenceline. Then he whirled and kicked and started chomping on the brome and orchard grass. He moved quickly, sampling one clump and another. Then he came back up toward me and grabbed some more bluegrass. Suddenly, he whirled on his backquarters and then launched himself out across the field, bucking and blowing.

As he galloped toward the northeast corner, I hoped that he would not just run straight through the thin strands of poly-wire and keep going. The way he was running, I thought me might not slow down till he got to Omaha. He veered off, though, and ran underneath the low branches of the big spreading walnut tree on the north line and circled back around toward me. For a few seconds it looked like he might just run headfirst into the utility pole standing near the southwest corner but he skirted around it, slowed to a trot and came back up toward me. He grabbed several mouthfuls of greenish grass and then tore off on another run, this time checking out the southeast corner of the small pasture.

He’d walk along, taking wads of grass and then moving on to another section. It seemed as if he was overwhelmed with the sudden abundance and wanted to be sure he was eating the very best stuff available. So, he had to sample as much as he could as quickly as he could.

Sometimes, I suppose our excitement can lead us to behavior that amuses, confuses or just plain annoys others. Sometimes they can’t see what the big deal is or why we seem to be so irritatingly happy about it. Maybe they don’t understand what it was like where we were; maybe they can’t comprehend the degree of blessing that we suddenly feel. Maybe we shouldn’t worry too much about their lack of insight and understanding.

Without being boastful or snobbish or arrogant, simply in the sheer joy of appreciation, we ought to celebrate our gratitude to the Lord. Sometimes, we may simply bow our heads in quiet confession of our blessing. And although it should never be for show or from arrogant indifference, when we really truly consider the sheer magnitude of what God has given us, the beauty of his blessings, how can we keep from kicking up our heels?

H. Arnett
12/15/14

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Fools and Angels

Posted on December 12, 2014 by Doc Arnett

We often make our choices semi-consciously, leaning toward the customary response. Sometimes, we are confident of the choice, trusting that things will work out as we hope. Other times, we waver for a while, then opt for the “safer” choice, which is a good thing when a different choice is likely to result in exercising the death or dismemberment clause of an insurance policy. Sometimes, though, “safer” actually means “cowardly” or “less inconvenient” or “I just don’t want to bother with the effort it will take.”

We do this individually and collectively. Churches and other civic groups, corporations and collectives, unions and organizations. Sometimes, depending on which of whom it is, we trust in God, karma or luck and take the bold route. Sometimes it seems to be a matter of faith and sometimes it seems more like blind arrogance. Conversely, some people seem to expect the sky to collapse above their heads at any given moment. Emotionally, figuratively and literally, they miss out on thousands because they don’t dare risk a nickel.

Taking stupid risks often leads to early demise, for individuals and organizations. But it is also true that fear can masquerade as prudence and cynicism as wisdom. God has always called on people of faith to take risks but “risk” becomes an oxymoron when we understand the power of faith and the true nature of the things that are seen versus the things that are unseen.

I think it would be good for us to keep in mind that when we decide between faith and fear, we not only choose our journey, we also choose our destination.

H. Arnett
12/12/14

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Failure Is an Oxymoron

Posted on December 10, 2014 by Doc Arnett

I can’t think of any human endeavor, no matter how trivial or majestic, that doesn’t carry with it some degree of opportunity to come up a bit short. Even raking the yard can turn out to be harder than we thought it would be and a few leaves hidden in the branches of the shrubs end up shaking out a day or two later.

Of course, it’s easier to convince ourselves that we’ve done a perfect job when we’re working with inanimate objects that have no ability to resist our efforts. Even with that, though, I sometimes feel that a particular piece of oak or walnut is somehow actively working against me.

When it comes to working with humans, we have even less control. Teachers, judges, supervisors, parents, counselors and garbage collectors, along with the rest of the hominid population of the planet, know the frustration. Our best efforts, our greatest attempts, our wisest workings all may from time to time, or even seem like most of the time, to be without fruit and without visible result. That can be mighty frustrating.

There is a compounding risk in such things as this: in the event of apparent success, we may tend to take more credit than is due. While we know how hard we’ve tried, how much effort we’ve put into a certain person or project, there may be others contributing to the cause that we don’t know about. And, of course, there are additional forces at work as well.

The apostle Paul endured many afflictions and preached the gospel to thousands. His efforts were often met with severe opposition. He suffered various modes of punishment and abuse, including imprisonment, stoning and beatings. He established several churches, developed an extensive network of supporters and saw many people saved because of his work.

Yet he kept a keen awareness of the source of his effectiveness. In writing to the Corinthian congregation (I Cor3:6), he said “I planted, Apollos watered, but it was God who gave the increase.” Paul knew that the blessing of positive results was out of his control. He knew that he was called to share the gospel but that he had no control over the responses of those to whom he preached.

Regardless of the manner of ministry to which we are called, whether from the pulpit, the workbench, the grill or the blackboard, we must remember that it is about fulfilling our calling, not about celebrating our success. Also, we must remember that as long as we do our work with integrity and honor, we cannot fail.

We do not control soil or sun, only whether we do our duty or run from it. We are called to faithfulness, not to effectiveness. And as some poet has said, “Many a seed sprouts unseen.” We will not know this side of heaven how much fruit has grown from the seeds we have sown.

H. Arnett
12/10/14

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Patience, Determination & Humiliation

Posted on December 9, 2014 by Doc Arnett

I suppose there are a great many ways that humiliation can come to us; I’m pretty sure that don’t I really enjoy any of them. Even the most private forms aren’t all that much fun and the public ways can be just downright painful.

I’m not sure there’s a connection but I’ve also strived for excellence in just about everything I do for as far back as I can remember. Whether it was doing homework, preparing for a spelling test, building a replica of an Early American maple desk or remodeling a house, I have tried to make quality a key part. I’ve failed a number of times, succeeded more than once and continue my quest. Academically, socially, professionally. Whether it’s a small informal session with faculty or a presentation to hundreds at an international convention, I try to make it excellent.

I also want to be an excellent pastor and therein lies the rub. Every Lord’s Day morning I am faced by what seems to me to be overwhelming evidence that I must be downright lousy at building a church.

When I first started preaching at New Life Church, there were only about thirty or so showing up each Sunday. Within six months to a year, we were routinely having eighty to ninety people show up. Naturally, I thought my preaching must have something to do with that; I was so excited!

Now we’re back down to thirty to forty. Not quite as exciting.

I know that at least some of those who left did so because of me. I suspect it was actually every one of them. Every Sunday when I go up on the platform to welcome the group, I am reminded. Every time I look out at the audience from the pulpit, I am confronted by this vivid evidence that I just don’t have what it takes to make this church grow. After four years of my preaching, our sanctuary has five times more empty seats than people present. Even though I’m not quite conceited enough to figure I deserve a hundred percent of the blame, I’m also not quite dense enough to believe that I don’t get the lion’s share of it.

I still strive for excellence in my Sunday School class and from the pulpit. I still search the Scriptures to find that passage that “jumps off the page” at me, my own sense of confirmation that this is the message the Spirit is leading me to share. And those who still come encourage me, tell me that they appreciate the lessons and the sermons. I like these folks; they’re good people. I also like the ones who left; they’re good people too and I miss them. I wish they all could still worship with us and enjoy it and grow.

It is much easier to preach at a growing church, much easier to continue because of the pleasure than because of the duty. It’s much less stressful when you don’t worry whether or not your next sermon or next leaders’ meeting or casual comment is going to provide the spark that leads someone else to depart. The truth is, the only Sunday mornings in the past couple of years that I didn’t start my day off with intestinal distress have been those Sundays when I wasn’t preaching. Yeah, that’s how much it gets to me.

You see, there are two things that keep me going. One is that I just flat out love to preach and teach. Another is that diarrhea is nothing compared to the distress that grips a man’s life when he knowingly steps out of God’s will. I’ve known that gut-wrench before.

Been there, done that. I’m too old for that shirt.

H. Arnett
12/9/14

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Laying Out the Fleece

Posted on December 8, 2014 by Doc Arnett

The story comes from the Book of Judges, Chapter Six. God calls Gideon to lead an army against the Midianites. “Sure, God,” Gideon replies, “but let me be sure about this, okay?” (Yes, I’m paraphrasing here.) So Gideon takes a hunk of wool, and prays for God to confirm his calling. “If this really is You calling me to do this, let the fleece be wet in the morning and the ground all around it be dry.”

So, in the morning, the ground is dry and Gideon wrings out a bowlful of water from the fleece. Ready to go to battle now, right?

Not quite. “God, please don’t be irritated with me and strike me dead like you sometimes do to folks when You’re irritated with them.” Then he goes on to ask for a second confirming sign with the fleece: an invert of the first request.

Next morning, the fleece is dry as a hermit’s humor and the ground is soaking wet. So, Gideon takes the original Three Hundred army and busts up the Midianites like they’ve never been busted up before.

I’ve heard and read preachers busting up on Gideon for his lack of faith and what a sorry example he is for folks today. “God speaks directly to you and then you turn around and ask for a sign?! Shame on you. Shame on you!” Then they go on, “You’ve already got God’s Word right here in the Bible; you don’t need any more messages from Him.”

Of course, every one of those preachers wouldn’t hesitate in the slightest to go out and lead an army of three hundred against a few hundred thousand enemy troops. God whispers in the night and they’re ready to go right out and conquer every mountain, face every peril, endure every affliction without so much as a clarifying comment. Me, I’m more with Gideon.

Before I go out and face an overwhelming force of swords and spears while my buds and I are armed with trumpets and flashlights, I’d really like to know for sure that I hadn’t just imagined that God had spoken to me. You see, sometimes, God does call folks to conquer, to march victoriously against overwhelming odds. And sometimes he calls them to martyrdom.

And while I agree that martyrdom is also victory, it sure changes the hero’s experience of the parade. I don’t think God would mind if once or twice during a lifetime or so, I wanted to be sure that I was doing what He wanted me to do, serving where He wanted me to serve.

And I suspect that sometimes we ponder that and pray over the fleece, asking that it be dry in the morning and hoping it’ll be wet. Before you go praying to God for direction in your life, you might want to stop and consider how you’re going to feel if His answer is for a different direction than what you wanted. If you’re just going to go ahead and do what you want to anyway, it’d probably be good to just skip the praying. It’s really hard to fool God.

H. Arnett
12/8/14

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Choices & Challenges

Posted on December 5, 2014 by Doc Arnett

It’s been the kind of week that you never wish for, not for yourself or for anyone else unless your heart has been perverted by some deep pain or some shallow pleasure. At the earlier part, there was the middle-aged friend whose niece was found unconscious. She continues in a coma, bleeding internally, with neither cause nor cure established. She and her mother had been providing the bulk of the care for the grandmother.

In the middle of the week, another friend attended what would have seemed to be a rather routine hearing in family court. I don’t know a lot of people who have had the opportunity to enjoy the hospitality of family court but every one of them have reported it’s very much like playing Russian Roulette, except the stakes are higher.

As a species, judges in this nation appear to have more raw power and less supervision than any other group that I can think of and it’s virtually impossible to predict what they’re going to do at any given point. I knew one who once ordered a separated couple to exchange their children at noon on Christmas Day, even though the estranged pair lived three-hundred-and-fifty miles away from each other. Neither parent had asked for anything even remotely resembling that; the judge either forgot or didn’t care about the distance between them.

At any rate, our friend left court being directed to pay fifteen hundred dollars for a “home evaluation” before the next hearing and being not one whit closer to resolution of any issues.

On the same day, a young friend of ours, a ten-year-old boy, hit his head when he fell at school and suffered a brain injury. Fortunately, it didn’t require surgery and he appears to be recovering nicely at this point.

Yesterday, I got a text from my daughter Susan, who lives in north central Kentucky, that she’d had to hospitalize her not-quite-one-year-old son. Little Jeremiah has pneumonia and RSV, a pesky little respiratory virus. He’s had a history of health challenges of one type and another. Any parent or grandparent who has had to stand by the hospital bed of a small child and stare at that tangle of tubes and wires knows a very particular pain.

It’s not that the challenges my friends and family are facing are greater than those of others; I know some struggle with graver choices and longer trials. It’s not that I think there’s some sort of unfairness going on here; life is arbitrary and if you’re looking for “fair” you should try the county seat in July. But we are all united in knowing that this life is not stable, not easy and not guaranteed. Accidents happen, tragedies unfold, choices are made. We don’t control circumstances, only our responses to them.

But I also believe that prayer has the power to make both choice and circumstance better. And I also believe it is better for all of us when we are united in that.

H. Arnett
12/5/14

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Morning Rising

Posted on December 3, 2014 by Doc Arnett

A long line of cold dark blue
wedges the view of the eastern sky,
hovering just above the slight ledge
of pale light breaking into dawn.

Yard lights bite their way through
the lines of dark branches
rising from the barren blackness
and stretching thin lines above the fields.

Headlights of the occasional passing car
flicker stars through the winding fencerows
alongside Route 36 as it works its way
through the river bottoms near Blair.

Just above that hard smoky slate to the east,
the least bit of blue deepens
into slightly darker hues,
unbroken by smooth-edged fronts,

suggesting that these clouds
will move on their way,
leaving us with a day much brighter
than its beginning.

Regardless of forecast or foresight,
the cold of night or bleakness of day,
of what we think we know,
it is good to hold to hope

and to believe that the direction of our lives
is anchored to something
less fickle than views of weather
and the current affections of talk show hosts.

H. Arnett
12/3/14

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