On Nature and Love of It

I’ve read several books about getting lost, or almost dying, or just full of joy, in the wilderness. Proenneke, Childs, Kingsolver, Abbey, Krakauer and all their kind have a special place in my heart.

There is a powerful reason to read this stuff. 

It is living. 

I can read twenty theology books in a year, and grow with them. 

But Childs and his lot – a single story of theirs – are talking about breathing and moving. I think this is the meta of life, like the Diné he is talking about in his book, The Way Out.

Walking is required to see and believe that we are created and have life. The soul is a dead thing if it only knows four walls, AC, and heavy books with nothing to communicate about putting one foot in front of the other, or for grasping a rock with one hand to keep steady while looking out on the bat expanse. 

Maybe part of the Fall is that we’ve increasingly wandered from creation. The Lord set us in his garden temple, and in rejecting him, we rejected his temple. Now we create our own profane temples of concrete and smog and screens and busyness. 

If a tree falls in the wild, God is glorified. If a man witnesses the tree falling in the wild, God is more glorified. The arena in which we were designed to walk and breathe is still here, but we’ve made up every way to avoid and forget it. 

Perhaps the Devil’s work is fracture. Truth is scattered and some hold books, some art, some nature and some invention – none really grasp all or even a decent aggregation of the world God made. We like to revere the aboriginal man, the native, monk, the Old People. They actually do have something we Western Intellectuals do not – they have a piece of what is generally lost: a place in creation, feeling what God intended in making the soil and flora and fauna. The People don’t have True Religion, as many have so foolishly assumed. They do have the living and breathing part, though, that so many of us have perpetually migrated away from. In hating God, we hate his creation. We despise breathing and drinking and feeling what he made, preferring or conditioned, treated, and smoothed hubris that we think we have made, that we think is an improvement on what he made.

Here’s the insidious part. If confusion and fracture are the things of the Evil One, he’s most likely lounging happily, applauding the results of his efforts. Christians may have lost their sense of smell. And the world in general too, wrapped up in every religion that doesn’t know nature. And those that do love nature? They’re wrapped up in everything that is not eternal, not filled with hope of redemption. What a miserable product, most effective to distract from both truths – that God made the world and it is amazing – and that God made his people for relationship with him. It’s not one or the other, much as it may seem these days, and to the books I’m reading about nature.

These authors are mostly naturists, or atheists, or modern humanists in their writings. They don’t really go for the Christian God. Can’t blame ’em, since we Christians don’t have much of a reputation for writing what they write about. We’re more interested in “loving God and loving our neighbor.” We’re right, of course – I won’t argue that at all – I am obsessed with this loving thing as well.

Someone might say, “You folks have no love for nature. You seem to hate it, or at least only love it so much as you can use it for fun, for boating and skiing and youth camps – a break from your routine, mundane, work six days and worship on the seventh.”

“And look at your Holy Scriptures. There’s nothing talking about what I know. I see God in nature; can meet with him there. Why go to church when I can get him out in the dunes or on a mountaintop?”

I point back to my starting lines above. And I would love to point you to why the Scriptures don’t talk about nature the way you do.

Nature is displayed all through Scripture. Read Job, for starters. And Psalm 92. See the beauty implied in all the statements about nature in just these two places. Read Genesis 1 and 2, and Revelation 21 and 22, the bookends of the Bible. Read Song of Songs and even Ecclesiastes, that most pessimistic of books (until you read the end). All of these attest to the writers’ understanding of the significance of creation and man’s relationship to it. And the writers understand its impact on their readers.

Why isn’t there a book in the Bible about getting lost in the desert and lauding its glories? There are two main reasons I can find.

First, the Bible is not about this nature thing, as hugely important as it is. Nature, its beauty, scope, danger, and diversity, its ability to cause your heart to stop or leap for joy, is not God’s special revelation. The Bible is about God revealing himself to men in his plans and intentions – his first and last things. The emphasis is on love for him and for his image-bearers, our neighbors. It’s social, and it’s about redemption. The earth is passing, though I’m convinced there will be a new, perfected, even better rendition when the last day passes for us all. God is communicating the eternal things in the pages of Scripture.

Second, since nature is God’s general revelation, there’s no real value in interrupting the message in the Bible with a massive discourse on the significance of nature. Honestly, there really is enough as is. Nature is a message unto itself, readily accessible to anyone who sets foot in it. The book of natural revelation writes itself on our hearts, and as so many places in the Scriptures illuminates, it also points to God, that there is One and that he is active, engaged, loving, and all-powerful. The harshness of nature points to a holy God who is sovereign, just, and far, far above our comprehension.

Psalm 19 cries out with the declaration that all of creation declares the glory of God. This presumes that creation is glorious. God himself, in person, said “It is very good.” That’s a pretty positive assessment from the best source.

So go touch grass. Believe with all your heart that men have locked themselves up in concrete closets with flickering displays, lame parties, dimly lit brothels, and absolutely insufficient simulations of what’s already out there in the fresh air for anyone and everyone to touch with their senses.

For those who are rabidly religious about preserving the world, or particular species, or eliminating stinky air. Go for it. I mean, the place will be gone in fire eventually, so you might take that into consideration and look for the eternal stuff. But keeping our deserts and mountains, tributaries and trees, bears and bees going for as long as possible – that’s a noble cause, and I hope you make an impact. I’m with you. I think us Christians miss out on a lot when we forget that God made all the glorious green and brown stuff first, and that it was our first holy temple in which we walked with God.

Review of Created for Communion with God by Harrison Perkins

I had the pleasure of getting to read the latest book by my friend, Harrison, prior to release, just for the price of a review. Full title: Created for Communion with God: The Promise of Genesis 1 and 2. I’ve posted it on Goodreads and on Amazon. Below is my write-up.

Dr. Perkins has written a wonderful little book with a bigger heart than the pages can contain. In such a short text, he shows us what might not be expected in a book about the first two chapters in Genesis: the Gospel. He makes the case quite logically and naturally that these seemingly dusty passages really do have powerful meaning for us. This book points us to Christ, the perfect image-bearer of God, who is the Saviour we so desperately need. In seeing our original design and purpose, then encountering the truth of our failure to fulfill our role, our gaze is directed outside ourselves to that Saviour who took on our nature and not only did what we can not (keep God’s law), he paid the penalty we owe for not doing as we should (he died in our place).

Perkins encourages us to take on common misconceptions and abuses of Genesis and discover the rich theological implications of Genesis one and two. He gathers a harmonious chorus of insights, solid exegesis, and citations, both ancient and modern, to show us that the opening scenes of Genesis are not primarily technical science, rather are written to establish the reasons for, and structure of, our existence as image-bearers of the God who made us. Perkins is giving us the great narrative of humanity’s relationship with God, our fall from it, God’s solution for us, and how we can live, restored to our relationship with him in hope and comfort.

It is my pleasure to give Dr. Perkins high praise and to commend his work. Harrison is first and foremost a pastor, and his writing here shows it. His emphasis throughout is to give everyone rich, understandable theology, comfort and assurance for Christians, and to communicate the need of all for a faithful Saviour. Finally, Lexham Press has crafted a real gem of a book out of this exceptional work. Book covers and design are not superfluous, and the artwork and graceful style of Created for Communion with God invite the reader to expect enjoyment in the reading. Lexham provided this book to me for free but I was not required to provide a positive review in exchange.

I liked this book enough that I pre-ordered a couple of extra copies to share with friends and family. It’s that good.

Every Tear

Pray with Peter, with Mary, with Lazarus, Ruth, and Rahab, and with Fathers and brothers and sisters and Mothers.

Maranatha. Thy will be done, on Earth as it is in Heaven. Let the incense from our bowls, lifted high, be a sweet aroma, a sweet, sweet sound, a song in the glorious halls of eternity, an echo in Your throne room. In Your mercy, hear our prayer.

Save our children. Remember to them, and to us, the promise You made in Your waters. Make us whole, save us, in Your Word and by Your Spirit.

Give us the joy of works of thanksgiving – this very supplication – and from this meager fount, our steps and our words and the work of our hands. May they ever please you and shine before our neighbors, our beloved ones, the sparkle of the beauty of Your Son – Your Faithfulness.

Deliver us from the sorrow and the fear of this cold, cold vale of tears. Bring Your people round us. Embrace us in Your people, in this winter of our loss and our impatience and our yearning.

Heal Your people. Bind our hurts, our tired, weakling hearts. Rock of Ages, we cling to Thee. Maranatha. Thy will be done.

On the Rest of Belonging

Behold what manner of love The Father has given unto us, That we should be called the sons of God

Adoption – the truest communication of belonging. The orphan is alone, unwanted, does not belong, does not fit, and faces a lifetime of all of this. Of abject misery.

And all this darkness is suddenly light when the Adopter comes. The words for the orphan are now,

You are wanted, not alone, you belong

This should be the life of Christians, once orphans: ask not, give instead, the lovingkindness of the Father, to all our neighbors.

The body they may kill

God’s truth abideth still

Grace and peace.

____

This is integral to the church’s mission. All who come are orphans of at least one sort. For however long someone stays – a week, a lifetime, some years, the people should adopt them as the Father has adopted the people. Visitors may not know the Father, or may have been ripped from their families, or from their own church, or of any other sense of belonging.

The orphan is un-grounded, shuffled between fostering spheres, knows she does not belong. Condemned to a life of endless wandering, striving without goal – how could she know what belonging is, really?

But the adoption completely alters this. The orphan is given rest from striving, refuge from the force around her that crushers and tears her apart. Peace is made. The orphan can rest – and should know the reason for this, so she can remember and continue to rest.

Remember what you were – so you may rejoice anew in what you are. Rest in what God has given you and, in the promise He has made to keep you.

Take, eat, remember, and believe 

Christian, you hear this every time you come to the Table of the Lord.

Consider Ruth’s struggles. Imagine Rahab’s mind and heart. What of Peter’s view of his adoption? Or of Paul?

It should be no wonder that the great stories and songs document belonging, the search for it, the loss of it, the gaining of it. And so the Scriptures’ narrative of it.

Lo Ami

Not Lo Ami

We’ve been raised in the West (Americans, certainly) to want and preach “the whole self” realized and self-sufficient. “You gotta be okay with you before you can be okay with others.” – with friends, spouses, whatever. Detect the fallacy.

You’re never alone, not really

But do we belong?

Of the Christian slogans, “You were created for fellowship” is most preeminent. It features in the two great catechisms in prominence.

“…and enjoy Him forever” – Westminster

“…that I belong…to my Faithful Savior” – Heidelberg

Yet with Christians, is this the first sense encountered? Can we savor the sense of belonging exuding from contact with another of The Adopted?

I will rejoice in my [adoption]

Restore to me the joy of my [adoption]

Behold what manner of love the Father has given us that we should be [adoption]

O' the Father's Love begotten
That kissed me at my adoption
Lo ami, I had no home
The salvation of the Lord has shown
I shall ne'er again be alone

P.S. Rest In Prayer

This is a post-script for the previous post Stop Praying For Patience.

P.S. Why I think this is a reasonable proposal for me.

Job,

tore his robe and shaved his head. Then he fell to the ground in worship and said:

“Naked I came from my mother’s womb,
    and naked I will depart.
The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away;
    may the name of the Lord be praised.”

he sat among the ashes. His friends joined him. In this place of rest, Job grieved, mourned, and waited.

they began to weep aloud, and they tore their robes and sprinkled dust on their heads. Then they sat on the ground with him for seven days and seven nights. No one said a word to him, because they saw how great his suffering was.

The Psalmist cries out to the Lord in his suffering and fear and misery, and yet manages to rest in the incredible promises of his God.

Paul calls us to be at peace.

If possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all.

Angels tell their audience to be at peace in Luke 1. Jesus says the same in Luke 24.

I’m taking the risk to presume all these things and their corresponding passages are informing me that a position of rest (resting in the peace of God that surpasses all understanding) is the locus of all my activity.

If I understand this concept rightly, it is a means of dealing with existing suffering as well as being prepared for that which inevitably comes. I can be settled, grounded, and centered in a life-style that promotes peace and stability that enables me to do a number of essential things which are hard and need to be done.

I am grieving deaths.

The death of my marriage is so excruciating that I mostly pack it away in the closet. Yet I’m surprised most times when the pain comes back up. There is so much – shame, fear, loss, regret, and just plain grief in the tincture of my completely failed relationship that if I don’t find the means to do what Job did, and what the Psalmists do, I don’t think I can bear it.

And the death of my relationship with my child? What about that? It might be even worse than the marriage.

It’s been said that the death of someone who is still alive (i.e. divorce, exile, disowning) is worse than the Final Death of someone who literally stops breathing. Because the dead one is still breathing. I don’t know about that, since I’ve not experienced that kind of Final Death of a loved one on a thoroughly personal level. But I know plenty who have that in their lives. My grief and the complications from all that has happened to me (including my own evil) are basically unbearable. Something must be done – but there’s no magic potion to ingest. This much is true whether the person is gone in death or in broken relationship.

I think that at least I can order my own life, God willing, and to the best of my ability, around the promises and comfort of Christ. And this ordering is why I wrote the previous article. From a place of rest, I can receive better that which God has provided, and I can face better those things I must face.

This is a position of repentance. I have made a choice to face my misery with intentional attention to the promises of God. I have made a choice to turn from the conflict-oriented, impatient, and [honestly, un-trusting] controlling tact of my life. I do not wish to harm another, and that includes bashing them with “good theology” to grind them into belief. Peter says,

but in your hearts honor Christ the Lord as holy, always being prepared to make a defense to anyone who asks you for a reason for the hope that is in you; yet do it with gentleness and respect,

Paul says,

to make it your ambition to lead a quiet life: You should mind your own business and work with your hands, just as we told you, so that your daily life may win the respect of outsiders and so that you will not be dependent on anybody.

May grace and peace be my movements and words. I want my prayers to exude this. I want my actions and conversations to be all of this. I don’t want to be the one who brings the hammer to a peaceful arena. I don’t want to hurt someone in my efforts to heal them – that betrays my motive anyway – for in spiritual things, Christ is the healer, and in the mundane, all things should point to the grace and peace that are in Christ.

The wrangling is better wrangled in prayer, wherein is found the God who resolves all hurt and conflict and strife and misery. Blessed are the peacemakers, not the punishers. And I surely hope I’m getting this right, because I’m too aware that I’ve failed miserably as a punisher – success of making somebody a Christian (or even a better Christian) at the rate of zero.

If I bring hostility everywhere I go, and if every house-guest of mine comes expecting a brilliant verbal whipping, I have erred. Doesn’t matter how orthodox my well-read Reformed theology is. I want those around me to feel safe, to be able to trust, and to want to be in places like that, and for them to want to have what I have – peace in Christ. But if I’m not living in it and living like it is real, then a) do I really have that peace? and b) who in the world is going to believe I have it?

Instead, kiss-of-peace. And “grace and peace be on this house.” And finding the one in the deep well of misery, climbing in with them, and suffering with them.

Job’s friends meant well. They absolutely didn’t do well. And Job probably should’ve also kept his mouth shut. Just sayin’.

Q. What is your only comfort in life and in death?

A. That I am not my own,
but belong—
body and soul,
in life and in death—
to my faithful Savior, Jesus Christ.
He has fully paid for all my sins with his precious blood,
and has delivered me from the tyranny of the devil.
He also watches over me in such a way
that not a hair can fall from my head
without the will of my Father in heaven;
in fact, all things must work together for my salvation.
Because I belong to him,
Christ, by his Holy Spirit,
also assures me of eternal life
and makes me wholeheartedly willing and ready
from now on to live for him.

Stop Praying For Patience

Instead, form my remaining years into a normal operating state (posture) that is resting. Foremost, this rest is of the spiritual rest we have in Christ and His church. “not a hair shall fall…” “Even though my conscience accuses me…” “The Sabbath was made for man.”

As we are designed for eternal rest, and re-designed in our regeneration for it, the most sense is made in assuming a primary state of repose.

And then to let that rest (trust) flow out into the other aspects and conditions of living. This reminds me of my long-standing life philosophy of inaction until the moment of action arrives. This was initiated by some of my most beloved stories. Melanie Rawn’s character, Rohan, in her book The Dragon Prince always waited to make the great decisions of his life until circumstances revealed the correct course of action. Mike, the hero in Heinlein’s Stranger in a Strange Land taught his family, “Waiting is.” And I do not find these themes (and plenty of others) to be random or coincidental, nor surprising that I might be drawn to them in all my reading. From a spiritual posture (which is fact, not choice, and state, not practice) it seems perfectly reasonable (and biblical) to realize this in emotional, mental, and physical orders of living as well.

So, as I face outward from my church and home, both being my places of origin, I want to be moving from wellsprings of rest. By this I mean, not of decision, of busy-ness, of activity, anxiety, or pressure. These places should be comfortable, comforting, calming, and inviting. They should be formative of, conducive to, a restful posture in all aspects, and should be sustainable in that state.

Action and decision should be my abnormal state and should be informed by the calm, rest, trust that are in my normal posture. Therefore, I want to make effort to emulate those who best represent the posture of rest (peace, patience, compassion) when gathered with the saints – with the goal of becoming like them.

And I want to build an environment that is conducive to rest. One of comfort, peace, beauty in the home and other spaces as possible.

And I want to practice activities which advocate or are conducive to rest. Practice mindfulness. Act in silence. Move purposefully and be still intentionally.

Seek music that brings peace. Read paper instead of screens. Minimize screens, especially the attending media found in them. Consume more beautiful, Noble, peaceful, careful products from the screen.

Obviously eat well and avoid unhealthy consumption of foods and drinks. Exercise – but with care for the body in such a way that fosters peace, patience, and rest (tai-chi and hiking instead of CrossFit and ultra-running, for extreme instance).

Be intentional – always asking “why,” and “how” before asking “when.” Spontaneity can be a part of this, but not the kind that is thoughtless and frenetic. A posture of rest can lend itself to spontaneity because it has no inherent “no” due to excessive busy-ness, loaded schedules, and meaningless exhaustion.

Exhaustion should be honestly achieved. Because the cause was valid, considered, limited in scope, and taken for the right reasons. I want to strive to avoid the exhaustion that comes from “I should not have…”

I came up with this rudimentary “points for life” list after a few days of pondering this life as rest concept. It’s not exhaustive, or even particularly thorough, but it makes sense to me.

Rest - act from a posture of rest, rest from action
-God designed man for rest
-Think before doing
-Tired means rest
-Mindfulness

Replenishment - replenish supplies and assets that have been used
-Word and sacrament
-Nutrients
-Hydration
-Mindfulness

Restoration - Restore mind and body to normal state of function
-Forgiveness is integral to restoration. Repent. Forgive. Pray.
-Breathe
-Touch - grounding - centering
-Mindfulness

Recreation - Be re-creative in engaging cognition, skills, and imagination
-God made man to make things
-Art (making or consumption)
-Games and puzzles
-Mindfulness

I want this to turn into a series on the subject. We’ll see how well I stick with it (greatest challenge for me – sticking with a plan). So I wrote a second bit, attempting to add some explanation to fill in some blanks: https://coldcoffeeandflannel.wordpress.com/2024/12/14/p-s-rest-in-prayer/

A Theology of Patience

I’m reading The Patient Ferment of the Early Church, by Alan Kreider. It is prompting a lot of good thinking in line with the theology I have grown into over the last several years. What follows is not really about the book but I wanted to set forward the main influence, both because credit is due and because I really recommend this book, both for the value of Kreider’s historic work as well as for the valuable look into the theological stance and practice of the early church.

A theology of patience is a system that can be developed not just in theory, as in theologies of glory or of suffering, which at best offer a stance, or posture in which one might stand or from which one might operate, but can be actually taught and practiced – a discipline. Once can grow in patience, which can’t really be said appropriately about the other two.

It lends itself implicitly to the Orthodox theology of suffering and certainly opposes that of glory. Even In action, patience commends the other classic proximate biblical qualities of character such as humility, self-sacrifice, and gentleness. And this is not just a Christian system of thought.

In our inclination (Christian or not) to portray ideas, themes, and movements as black-and-white, many Christian statements seem to say that “the world” or unbelievers all have a theology of glory and that of patience or suffering are not accessible. I think we should reject this in the light of God’s Law being declared in nature. Patience and suffering in themselves are not redemptive. This is evident in modern as well as historic cultural obsession with the graceful, persevering, magnanimous, and forgiving. While there are certainly overtly glory-centered cultures (stereotypically Rome, Murica, etc), there are always beliefs and practices that reject (ex- or im-plicitly) in favor of patience, suffering, etc. Take a look at Buddhism, or a number of mystic systems. They aren’t all about taking over the world or claiming victory in one’s personal life.

It is simple enough to distill this theology of patience from God’s Word. “How long, Lord,” cries the Psalmist far too often. The Decalogue hints strongly, if you read the Bible historically, at impatience being the root of the theft of reality. #1 Calm down and just trust me – I AM. #2 Calm down and just trust me – you don’t have to work to worship me – #3 Calm down and I will handle the violent language just like I’ll handle the violent actions. #4 Be patient – rest on the day that I’ve given you – it’s your nature etc… Patience does not steal, cheat, malign, or disobey – it is born out of trust and forgiveness in every case.

What should I do in my patience? If I am patient, rejecting a theology of glory, or trying to assimilate that biblical theology of suffering, what does it look like?

A likely source for answers might come from the common philosophy of those who are in the midst of suffering – who have lost greatly, or are in great pain otherwise. See Job for both good and bad examples of this, as well as Jonah, and other wisdom literature in the Bible. Take a look at what is routine counsel for those who are suffering:

"Rest in the Lord" 
"Do the next thing, and don't take on more than that"
"Do not accept the burden of things you can't control"
"Practice mindfulness"
"Practice self-care"

Take a look at the things that inspire impatience, worry, and all that steals reality from the mind. Modern news, social media, commercials, traffic, and trends. Maybe a way to locate this might be to quote Robert Heinlein, not remotely Christian, from his famous social satire Stranger in a Strange Land:

“Remind me,” Jubal said to her, “to write a popular article on the compulsive reading of news. The theme will be that most neuroses and some psychoses can be traced to the unnecessary and unhealthy habit of daily wallowing in the troubles and sins of five billion strangers.”

Theft of Reality

I started Susan Cain’s book, Bittersweet for a second round. She asks a question in the introduction, “How did a nation founded on so much heartache turn into a culture of such normative sunshine?”

What if this might be an explanation:

Adoption of the unreal. The revolution violently rejected English rule. Not only did it defy a king, it defied the concept of king. This is problematic in my mind, appearing to be a rejection of something that is a biblical concept – there is always a king. If the breaking of the ninth commandment is theft of the unreal, the Revolution was an act of grand larceny.

Secondly, an overdeveloped sense of “city on a hill,” fueled by the dissonant euphoria of the liberation found in adoption of the unreal, permitted a powerful theology of glory that transcended the pious into even the basest un-Christian masses.

Thirdly, these two foment a terrible forgetfulness. America’s heritage dis-included so many centuries of defining, personal history that it was most rapidly a nation that had learned to forget. Forgotten suffering, forgotten the “misery” of where we came from , and for those to come, forgotten the suffering of regular life. As the individual was no longer ruled by a king, the individual could no longer be ruled by anything. Now one rules oneself by choosing euphoria. To the abyss with things like story and song that recall the past and all its mix of joy and sorrow that combined into a real perception of the Real.

In the Christian view, though not exclusively, but especially so, suffering is Real. The Curse is real and historic, preceded only by the un-framed joy of perfect communion that was lost. Shadows are everywhere and to live in rejection of this is to live on the beach of the unreal, perpetually sunburnt and desiccated.

Oddly enough euphoria of the unreal produces a misery that fails to frame suffering correctly. It is a misery of pride and glory. It is the hopelessness of “I am better than you,: and of “I can fix this – overcome it, even.”

The humble, meek, brokenhearted, they inherit the earth, and realize the New Heavens and Earth, because they are able to differentiate the artificial, the Unreal from the Real. God’s natural law is sufficient to fuel this view of reality, however it is insufficient to supply the fullness required to embrace this reality. The suffering Savior, God’s Special Revelation, is the foundation, keystone, capstone, and bridge of this reality, and He is the only (bridge) way through it.

“Joyful, Joyful, we adore Thee…” out of our sorrow You have met us and drawn us into the blessed Joy of Your salvation.

From Another Journal

DECEMBER 2, 2015
Writing Prompt.

Today stayed the same throughout, for the most part. I found satisfaction in contemplating my next journal entry. Menial tasks at work which took little thought or effort comprised the day. Came home to reasonable peace and quiet.

I am to write about a favorite space, working from me outward. From feelings to line-of-sight and back. Here it is:

I am calm, quiet, savoring the first sip of coffee and anticipating the drawing, lighting and first scent of my cigarette. I’m mildly excited at the pending arrival of my friend. The smell and feel of the quiet morning is like a balm, a tranquil wrapping that I am most thankful to have before me every day. No one is stirring, not a car on the road. The sky is almost always clear and the place is fresh with the grass smell, old woods and dust.

The front porch is cool in the dawn. In the shade, with the mist lurking just over the grass, it’s cool enough that I have to draw my sarong tight around my knees, keeping my arms close to my chest to preserve what warmth I have. Being rather set in my ways, I rarely wear more than the sarong around the house, occasionally a t-shirt. Never mind that. Coffee is enough to keep the chill at bay.

And then she appears. My little friend who never fails to slink round the corner, moving without a glance at me, heading for the porch, and me. She easily bounces up beside me and, with a casual skip, arranges herself in a hunched ball on my knee in that familiar sphinx pose. I scratch her ear and can finally light my cigarette.

We sit in silence, both scanning the yard, the street, the houses across the way, the birds on the lines and the big sky. I always sigh at about this moment. All is right with the world, just for these minutes. The chill gets to me, but goes unnoticed. I and my friend are in a fine space that cannot be violated by discomfort. Funny that, in all the times we’ve been out here, not once have we been interrupted. I never realized how much I loved that. Yet, again, I think maybe I did – just didn’t need the concentration to be aware.

You know how you just know, without the effort of thinking, that something is how it is? Pleasant-not-awesome, just a fine thing that needs nothing as focused as evaluation. That’s what it was. Best thing about it is that it was such a routine, a daily event that repeated itself so many times and for so long, that I can recall it almost as if I was back there.

Then I put out my cigarette and my friend jumped from my knee and strolled away round the side of the house. And I stood up, stretched and turned to the front door. Everything just as usual.

That was my last time on the porch. I left that place that day, never to see it again. I like to think my partner, my little friend of years ago, said goodbye that morning, though nothing was any different from any other morning. But I like to think she knew. And I can easily imagine she’s still there, wandering around, and passes the porch from time to time. And she remembers looking out on the world from my knee with tobacco smoke curling around her ears, coffee steaming nearby and an occasional, idle scratch at her neck.

Seeya, Hutchie. 1999 was bittersweet for us.

How Do Christians Live?

Notes on James’ Letter to the Church

1:1-17: Live in wholehearted trust (faith). See Heidelberg Catechism Lord’s Day 7 (Question 21)

1:18-27: Live in the Word, depending on it to change you and guide you into good works. This always stems from a consistent and persistent return to 1-17. Works without faith are worthless – religious babbling (v26) is not a mark of faith. A coherent and sensible confession (profession) of faith is accompanied by a humble and sensible life that desires the good of others (love your neighbor – v27)

1:27-2:16: Live in humility, knowing that the rich and the poor of the world, when they are joined to Christ’s church, are all of the same caste – poor in spirit, etc (see the Beatitudes) and do not have precedence over each other

2:17-26: Live in validated faith. Justification here is defined as vindication, evidence that justifies a claim. Faith is demonstrated, or validated, by a life of good works (See Heidelberg Catechism Lord’s Day 32)

3:1-4:12: Live in humility and meekness. Believers do not seek power over others, or status, or any position of superiority. All are made of the same cloth. A ruler in the church does not elect himself or impose himself as a leader

4:5: The Word is the rule and all are submitted under it to the Spirit of Christ

4:5-17: This is an exposition of v5. God is sovereign over the fortunes of men. We may not steal His Providence or presume upon His lovingkindness

5:1-6: Two meanings can be found. 1. This is a doom upon the rich who live without faith. 2. Live a life of repentance – the rich who have found themselves destitute and humbled before God have possibly the hardest life to endure (consider the camel and eye-of-the-needle)

5:7-20: Live in faith-filled perseverance, trusting that the Lord is indeed coming (He Keeps His Promises) and even so, as the Father’s providence and lovingkindness are sufficient to preserve His people, live in prayer, trust, and bear one another’s burdens as is fitting for the suffering church that is exiled in the dispersion (wilderness)

Additional comments. James does not know “cultural transformation” or works in the world. This is a highly personal letter, aimed at individual belief, though never separated from the corporate (you shall know them by their works). While James provides a series of marks by which the church can identify her children, the aim is to move individuals to greater concern for their own wholehearted trust and consequent evidence. This letter is conveniently adjacent to Peter’s letters. Reading all three in context with each other should be quite sufficient to help with the fairly traditional problem with James, which has been often abused to promote a works-based righteousness that opposes the Gospel and comfort of the believer’s peace with God.