Holding to Hope

Posted on April 17, 2012 by Doc Arnett

There is, sometimes,
a fine line between hope and madness,
a keen edge between the ledge of despair
and believing
that it is something more than air
that holds us safe from impending disaster.

But when we have seen,
time and again,
all of reason confounded
by unbounded belief,
seen the hopeless set free
from the fangs of fate,
the powerless triumph over the great.

When we would strive
to hope against hope,
let us know
that submissive faith,
which holds that no calamity of this world
can separate us from the love of God
that is in Christ Jesus,
faith willing to endure
whatever God allows,

it is in such faith as that
that hope is set free
to work its wonders,
to triumph over all fear and chance,
and set us above the pinnacles of life,
no matter the depth
of our circumstance.

H. Arnett
4/17/12

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An Ill Wind

Posted on April 16, 2012 by Doc Arnett

After several minutes of encroaching claps of thunder, the strength of the storm erupted in the early hours of our Sunday morning in Kansas. A hammering of rain came in surging strains, ratcheting against the glass and walls. Water drove in through the cracks in the second-floor door that opens out over the flat-roofed porch, leaving a small pool in the kitchen below. A much larger pool blew in around the storm cellar door into the basement. All in all, nothing to compare to the damage done in other places, but unsettling, nonetheless

An omen of sorts, I suppose, to the copy machine that wouldn’t work at church, the printer that wouldn’t print, the lyrics to the praise song left at home, but beyond all that, the phone call from my daughter in Kentucky during Bible study classes.

 

She’d had an emergency C-section on Tuesday, two blood transfusions on Wednesday. She and the baby had gone home on Friday. Now, after two days of acute soreness in her calf muscle, Susan was experiencing shortness of breath. “Get to the hospital,” I told her, recognizing the symptoms of DVT and the likelihood of a blood clot that had moved to the lungs

We prayed for her at church and made it through the singing and the preaching. At home, I checked for flights from Kansas City to Louisville. Nothing available that would get me there before the next day. I decided to stay and wait for further news from Susan.

When it came, late afternoon, the news was good: no blood clot. Exhausted but relieved, she went back home to the baby.

I believe, but can’t prove, that the Lord took mercy on Susan (and the rest of us) and dissolved the clot. Whether that be the case or not, I will thank him and give him praise. And I will pray that the ending of this week will be far more restful and relaxing than its beginning.

H. Arnett
4/16/12

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Spring Morning

Posted on April 9, 2012 by Doc Arnett

Spring Morning

In the ebbing darkness of an April night,
the bright circle of the moon
holds full and warm
above the ridge.

Day comes slowly,
taking hold around the roots of the sky,
a faint glowing of calming color
beyond the east.

The least bit of light
leaches into the north,
where woods and timber
turn into the distant arc of the earth.

In the constant change of seasons,
time after time,
year after year,
life after life,

there is witness of wonder
beyond the hubris of human,
comprehended in delicate flower
and in the raw power of the storm:

we are formed by something
greater than us
and held by grace more tender
than we can comprehend.

H. Arnett
4/9/12

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Something Else

Posted on April 4, 2012 by Doc Arnett

In the aftermath of the University of Kentucky’s recent victories over Louisville and Kansas, many alleged fans in Lexington went on a binge that could hardly be called “celebration.” In a disgusting demonstration of the excesses of alcohol, fanaticism and mob mentality, they set fires, overturned vehicles and destroyed property that did not belong to them.

I’m sure that certain sociologists and the loyal tribesfolk of the “It’s Always Someone Else’s Fault” clan would attribute the despicable behavior to various economic and socio-political forces. Add in some deep-seated repression and frustration and surely in some way or another, it’s the fault of their parents, the current president, the former president and the long-term effects of capitalism, socialism and television.

Maybe, just maybe, and I know I’m going out on a long, shaky limb here, it’s because, deep down inside, these people have failed to grasp hold of morality, integrity, respect and responsibility. Maybe, just maybe, it has nothing to do with supporting any particular team or school and has everything to do with a lack of decency, self-control and maturity.

Nothing decent and respectable is celebrated by destruction, violence and vulgarity. These people have shamed their team, their university and their state. The supporters of other teams, including those who would have done the same thing if their team had won, will demonstrate deserved contempt for these whose actions leapt to the pages and sound bites of yesterday’s news.

Overlooked, forgotten or deliberately ignored will be the respectful exuberance of the hundreds of thousands, perhaps a million or two of other Wildcat supporters. Instead, many will remember the livid faces of the rioters.

It is very much like the way that the millions of gentle, compassionate, loving and decent Christians have their lives and faces too often replaced in public perception by those others who wear the name but not the image of The Carpenter.

H. Arnett
4/4/12

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A Whisper of Faith

Posted on April 3, 2012 by Doc Arnett

Cool air eases in through the window,
something less than a breeze,
just a soft flowing of the night.

The light of the moon
seems incredibly bright,
angled from the high corner of the window
between the post of the bed
and the slant of the sill.

I lie still for a while,
remembering the smell of cut grass,
the feel of the sun impossibly warm
on an April day,
the sheen of the horses
grazing in the brome.

It is more than this
that makes a home,
just as faith is more
than what is believed:

it is the collective
of memory and meaning,
an interpretation of the future
that exceeds the glory of the present.

It is a quiet soothing,
a gentle stirring,
a calm fire
that conquers all ragings.

H. Arnett
4/3/12

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Purpose Driven Life

Posted on March 28, 2012 by Doc Arnett

The winter was so mild
that the roses held some leaves
even through the light snows
and hard freezes.

Spring has surged
so green and sudden
that the Bradford pears
have already gone
from bloom to leaf.

Tiny white petals
float on the surface
of the horse trough,
pushed by the breeze
toward the northeast corner.

The crabapple
to the corner of the garage
is flooded with its
delicate, pinkish blooms.

Just north of the house,
the ornamental peach tree
is so saturated with the deep pinks of blooms
against dark branches
it seems that it could not possibly keep itself

from bringing forth fruit.

H. Arnett
3/28/12

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A Dark Blue Dawning

Posted on March 27, 2012 by Doc Arnett

The sky has the look of storm to it this morning, a forming in the night of dark shapes and deep shadows. Long clean lines of dark blue come across lighter hues and tumbled arcs, haphazard and pushing into one another. Every now and then, a patch of light color seems to show a hint of something calmer, a notion of unthreatened sky beyond.

Off to the east, a thin slice of dawn breaks through between the heavy-hanging rim of the front and the horizon. A vibrant red-orange glow shows that even in this warning of darkness, there is still the sun, still the cycle of the earth and its seasons.

I will remember that beyond the ill-timed nights of this world’s risings, there is The One who formed me in my mother’s womb, who brought me forth. I will remember that He has delivered me through darker storms than these and has held me even in those times when I did not seek Him. I will remember, too, that even should He choose not to keep my body safe through the surge and whirl of the screeching wind and snarling storm, He has prepared for my soul a place of rest and comfort.

And will welcome me there.

H. Arnett
3/27/12

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A More Challenging Pattern

Posted on March 26, 2012 by Doc Arnett

A couple of weeks ago, I wrote about an encounter we’d had with removing old wallpaper. Such encounters are often testimonies to determination and persistence, occasionally involving opportunity for repentance, as well. Sometimes, the repentance is for the expressions of frustration. Other times, we repent of the attempt itself. Regardless of all that, a friend of mine who has dedicated himself to excellence in both thought and spirit responded with a short testimony or two of his own.

He had stripped paper from an old high ceiling on one occasion and on another had spent most of a day trying to remove paper from a wall. After a series of courageous attempts, all ending with various degrees of humiliation, he spent more time in investigation than in instigation. His conclusion was this: he’d spent the day trying to remove wallpaper that wasn’t wallpaper; it was paint!

At the conclusion of his sharing, he’d invited, or perhaps, challenged me to make some use of his experience. I’m always glad to substitute someone else’s experience for my own, particularly in the cases of less than pleasant experience.

In this one, I am reminded that we may, from time to time, find ourselves in the sublime pursuit of some goal or another that seems to elude, evade and otherwise overcome our finest efforts. We should not forget that in some of those situations in which it seems that what we are trying to do is quite impossible, there may be a simple explanation. It may, indeed, be quite the truth that what we are trying to do is an impossible thing. Sometimes, wisdom is the better part of valor and the much better alternative to stubbornness.

And in those finer moments when we find that we simply have no choice but to do the impossible, we must give due credit to determination and persistence. But I have found, in those finest moments of getting done what could not be done, it was faith that played the greater part.

H. Arnett
3/26/12

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Covering the Point Spread

Posted on March 16, 2012 by Doc Arnett

I’m sure there are many people who could care less about the NCAA tournament. Some just don’t like sports, some see basketball as another senseless manifestation of humanity’s continual preoccupation with the trivial and others are deeply offended that something as useless as bouncing a ball and running back and forth has interrupted their normal television viewing routine.

On the other hand, there are those who are mesmerized by the drama, the thrill, the excitement and the immeasurable pleasure of seeing some high-and-mighty university humbled by a small regional college. There are probably deep and complex factors of human psychology and sociology involved in this slight perversity but I prefer to think it’s just an ancient primal joy in seeing the little guy sling the rock into the forehead of the braggadocios giant.

Aside from those games when our vicarious identity is completely wrapped up in one of the two teams playing, we like that unexpected thrill. We like the storyline of the unheard-of team taking the title with the off-balance, hands in the face, double-teamed smaller guy’s last second shot. There’s the sense of oppression thrown off, humiliation ended and the ultimate justice that it has nothing to do with reputation or privilege and maybe, just maybe, not as much about talent as it is about heart, determination and teamwork.

Yeah, I like that, all of it.

But not nearly as much as I like the story of an ancient carpenter who took on the powerful, the rich, the influential, even the very ruler of the powers of this world. Looked them all squarely in the eye, called them a bunch of snakes and liars, confronted all the self-righteousness, the indifference, the hypocrisy and the secret sin. Let them beat him, mock him, whip him, scourge him, abuse him , insult him and bang him onto a cross and watch him die in agony.

And then, when all of them were sure that they had destroyed him, blew the door off The Lie of Death and walked out wearing the ultimate title: Lamb of God.

Yeah, I love that, all of it.

H. Arnett
3/16/12

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Beyond March Madness

Posted on March 14, 2012 by Doc Arnett

I can’t tell you where Iona University is located. In fact, I don’t even know if it’s “Iona University” or “Iona College” or “Iona Chrysler.” What I can tell you is that I had picked them to win their playoff game last night and that they apparently sent two different basketball teams to the same tournament game against BYU.

The first team, in the first half, scored fifty-five points and led by as much as twenty-five points. During half-time, they switched teams. Now, they may have been using the same bodies in the second half, but they were not the same team.

The team that came out on the floor after the half-time break missed at least eleven consecutive shots and scored a grand total of fifteen points in the second half. They fumbled the ball away, gave the ball away, kicked the ball away, passed the ball away. I haven’t seen that many turnovers since Simmons’ Bakery closed.

Although it hardly seems possible, Iona’s shooting was even worse. They threw up brick after brick after brick, mostly from twenty to thirty feet away and with no one in the immediate vicinity of the basket so as to offer some hope of an offensive rebound. Which, in retrospect, didn’t really matter, either; they also couldn’t hit a short jumper, a runner or a layup.

Granted, Brigham Young University played tough defense. Apparently, the Iona team somehow played its way to the verge of the NCAA tournament without ever having encountered a two-three zone. Actually, they looked like they’d never encountered a defense of any kind.

Nor, apparently, had anyone ever explained to them that it was permissible to penetrate, pass and shoot close shots. They kept throwing up those threes as if the wrath of God would fall upon them if they did anything else.

It was so maddening that I began to wonder if I was watching a parable of my life!

H. Arnett
3/14/12

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