The votes are cast; the election is over. I feel lost. Not because of changes in me, but in my context. Who am I now? Which way will I go? What about tomorrow?
I want to plead with God for a different outcome. But heaven is silent. The votes were cast, and the election is over. Read the rest of this entry »
From the moment I saw the daily prompt, I couldn’t get it out of my mind: Abide. One of those old-fashioned words I learned early in life. Not in school, but from singing a beloved old hymn over and over, “Abide with me.”
Stay with me. Dwell with me. Don’t leave me alone. I need your presence, especially now.
Is it my age? Possibly. But it’s more than that.
It’s Advent. I can’t get out of my mind the image of Jesus coming to abide then and now with us as human beings. Especially in times of distress, change and upheaval. A baby comes to abide with a family he didn’t choose and never met before birth. As a young man he gathers a group of children, women and men, perhaps hoping they’ll abide with him until he meets his end. Indeed, one of them promises never to leave him. And yet….
It isn’t just that I feel better when someone abides with me. It’s that I don’t want to be abandoned in this life. At any point along the way, and especially at the end. Anyone will do. Anyone who will abide with me, even for a little while. Jesus understands this longing, this need for other people willing to be present, to remind us physically that we’re not alone. Especially, but not only during hard times.
And so this old hymn resonates for me. There’s One who is already there for me up to and beyond my farewell to this earth. My head knows this. My heart yearns to see what I cannot see. Touch what I cannot touch. And so I sing….
Abide with me: fast falls the eventide;
The darkness deepens; Lord, with me abide;
When other helpers fail and comforts flee,
Help of the helpless, O abide with me.Swift to its close ebbs out life’s little day,
Earth’s joys grow dim, its glories pass away,
Change and decay in all around I see;
O thou who changest not, abide with me.I need thy presence every passing hour;
What but thy grace can foil the tempter’s power?
Who, like thyself, my guide and stay can be?
Through cloud and sunshine, Lord, abide with me.I fear no foe, with thee at hand to bless;
Ills have no weight, and tears no bitterness.
Where is death’s sting? Where, grave, thy victory?
I triumph still, if thou abide with me.Hold thou thy cross before my closing eyes;
Shine through the gloom, and point me to the skies;
Heaven’s morning breaks, and earth’s vain shadows flee:
In life, in death, O Lord, abide with me.Amen.
Words: H. F. Lyte, 1847
Music (Eventide): W. H. Monk, 1861Text copied from The Hymnal of the Protestant Episcopal Church in the United States of American, published by The Church Pension Fund 1940, 1943
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 10 December 2016
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Abide
Here a short poem from Emily Dickinson. Appropriate, I think, for the second Sunday in Advent. My personal response follows.
To fill a Gap
Insert the Thing that caused it –
Block it up
With Other – and ‘twill yawn the more –
You cannot solder an Abyss
With Air.c. 1862
Emily Dickinson Poems, Edited by Brenda Hillman
Shambhala Pocket Classics, Shambhala 1995
Irreplaceable loss. The Gap can’t be disguised, no matter how hard you try. Denial magnifies gaping emptiness, draws attention to it. The missing Thing is one of a kind, Irreplaceable.
Emily’s poem reminds me of my vain attempts to ‘make it better.’ Or worse, Read the rest of this entry »
For over two months I’ve listened to and sung along with the old hymn below. I’m a teary person. It doesn’t take much to open the floodgates. Even so, I’m taken aback by how deeply this particular old hymn moves me.
Here are the lyrics. My comments follow.
King of glory, King of peace,
I will love thee;
and, that love may never cease,
I will move thee.
Thou has granted my request,
thou has heard me;
thou didst note my working breast,
thou hast spared me. Read the rest of this entry »
The Lost Drachma, by James Tissot (French, 1836-1902), Brooklyn Museum
Spiritual formation is an up and down journey for me. An unrecorded map of possibilities, choices, decisions, practices, good intentions, getting lost and forgetfulness.
I’m a fairly organized person, though not allergic to clutter. When it comes to spiritual practices, however, Read the rest of this entry »
What will I do with the rest of my life?
Weeks ago my pastor preached a sermon on this. The topic was both amusing and serious. Amusing because there isn’t that much left of ‘the rest of my life.’ Read the rest of this entry »
Interpretive tapestry by Lee Porter — Hospitality, Thou Preparest a Table III
This memory still makes me smile. It also challenges me to think about my voice and how I use it now.
It was fall 1993. I’d just been promoted to full professor, and was the designated speaker for the seminary’s fall academic convocation. I worked on my address that summer in the context of angry national and local rhetoric about racial diversity. Read the rest of this entry »
Dear Friends,
This week was a roller coaster. Highs and lows one after the other. Still, I wrote in my journal and will post some pieces later. The picture is messy. Not because it’s ugly, but because it isn’t logical or sensible.
In the midst of the ups and downs I’ve followed George MacDonald’s sonnets for May. Some keep drawing me back for another read. Not because they’re profound, but because they’re simple and speak to my heart and situation right now.
Here’s one I’ve read over and over the last few days. It comforts me during this extended, unexpected Sabbath rest.
May 26
My prayers, my God, flow from what I am not;
I think thy answers make me what I am.
Like weary waves thought follows upon thought.
But the still depth beneath is all thine own,
And there thou mov’st in paths to us unknown.
Out of strange strife thy peace is strangely wrought;
If the lion in us pray—thou answerest the lamb.George MacDonald, Diary of an Old Soul
Augsburg Fortress Press 1994
I identify with every line, every word, every nuance. Especially the contrast between what I am not and what I am. Not because of myself, but because of the way God answers me. Not in kind, but in ways only a little lost lamb understands.
Stubbornly (!), God keeps responding to the little lost lamb. Taming my anger, showing me who I am in God’s eyes. Reassuring me, like waves that keep washing up on the shore, that God is found in the depths of the ocean. Not in the wearying repetition of my human effort to make a mark on life.
Elouise ♥
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 28 May 2016
Image found at cityviewchurch.com.au
This sonnet by George MacDonald took me back to childhood struggles with public prayer. Especially public prayer in front of my father when we had daily Bible reading and prayer after breakfast. My child’s prayer follows MacDonald’s adult prayer. Read the rest of this entry »
Do you want nothing but the best? If so, George MacDonald tells us exactly how to get it. My comments follow his sonnet. Read the rest of this entry »
Telling the Truth 