Rain and Revelation

There is something that is completely satisfying for me to be in my home on a gray day with the rain coming down. I like the ebb and flow of the sounds; the rise and fall of rhythms syncopated by God. I like watching the rivulets of water flowing from the downspouts and dispersing on the lawn and hearing the gurgling noise of air and water working out their gravitational ballet.

From my bedroom I can hear the wind occasionally lifting a loose piece of vinyl siding. I kid myself and think that one day I will go out and identify the offending piece and have it properly secured. Truth is, I like it. I had my landscaper trim the crepe myrtle bush outside my office because it was scraping against the window and threatening to lift the gutters off the west side of house with its unruly branches. I miss their song. It's like I removed the string section of the orchestra during the sonata or the sopranos from the cantata.

I actually enjoy cleaning my house during a good rain. Not a lot motivates me to do chores. Normally I would rather do anything else and I am pretty accomplished at formulating excuses. Before too long I should go out and harvest the last of the chard from my garden. It's the lone survivor from the few cold snaps we have had and the weatherman says we're going from 70 to 28 degrees tonight. I suspect we may get a clap or two of thunder with a drop like that. I am looking forward to it. I hope I am not disappointed. I am doing laundry and putting some split pea soup together in anticipation of the colder weather. What better food is there on a cold rainy day than a thick hot soup? Maybe I will put some cornbread together to go with it.

I've had a rough couple of days. November is difficult for me as it marks the anniversary of the passing of several loved ones. It also ushers in the holiday season. I loathe the holiday season. My disappointment with my life is never so painfully clear to me than during the holidays. I have certainly made a mess of things. If I could I would warn you to avoid the pitfalls that got me, but they were custom made for me. You have your very own. I wish you the wisdom I lacked and a faith stronger than mine so that you can avoid the pitfalls that come addressed to you. Remember though, making good decisions doesn't necessarily mean you'll have a comfortable life. It just means you won't have as many regrets.

I love the rain. It's cleansing. It reminds me that God reigns. It causes me to be thankful for the shelter He provides during life's storms. It motivates me to get clean and nudges me toward hope. Even my regrets were redeemed at the cross.

Revelation 19:6
Then I heard what seemed to be the voice of a great multitude, like the roar of many waters and like the sound of mighty peals of thunder, crying out,
“Hallelujah!
For the Lord our God
the Almighty reigns." ESV

Spiritual Aphasia aka Senseless Theology

I was recently asked why I read theology and follow theological debates. "It's all just words and opinions." Words. Words on a paper, words on a blog. Words that travel invisibly through our airwaves and our minds. What would our inner monologue consist of without words? Harsh words, gentle words, untrue words, and solid you-can-die-behind them words. They have secret lives in the depths of our souls. They overflow in torrents of grief and joy. They seep out of our character flaws, wearing down the weak convictions that hold them back until they contaminate all those around us. All of us are stained within and without by the raw sewage of unkind words. Our souls are in jeopardy for want of The Word. Jesus Christ. The Gospel. The Good News. Words matter. Doctrine matters. Theology Matters. What you win them with is what you win them to. I study theology because I was lost too long in a world that scrambles truth with its own ideas and preferences. I was fed a diet of tosse

Super Church a song for the Emergent-sy

In the early 70s I was in a youth choir at my church. Our youth pastor was a musician and his way of connecting with us as a group was through the choir and music. Somehow there was an affiliation between him and The Continental Singers, New Hope and Jeremiah People. He was worked with Moishe Rosen of Jews for Jesus too, I think. Are any of these names familiar to you? Though I remember the church fondly I was a profoundly lost and troubled young woman during my years there. That and time have muddled the memories quite a bit. Today I was digging through some old paperwork and one of the books to the musical we did. It's Getting Late For the Great Planet Earth, a folk rock oratorio by Cam Floria. Yes, that's right. Cam Floria put Hal Lindsey to music. There's a lot to laugh about and some to groan about but as I was looking through the songs and remembering, I found this little ditty and I only wish I could sing it for you. Just remember that this is circa 1972 and even th

What if.....

...what if I just need a place to let some words spill out? What if they spill out in bouquets of bright colors and pleasing scents but their frames are made of snakes and lies? Will you the reader be able to tell? Will it matter? When words smell like lilacs and honeysuckle do you care what lies beneath them? Perfumed syllables cover the stench of hope's decay. A violet or two will fool most surface dwellers, allowing them to pass by quickly and unaware. Is that what words are supposed to do? What if my aesthetics with words are similar to Morticia Addams' with flowers? What happens when luscious blooms are discarded? When the ragged silhouette of thorns is all that remains will you still see the beauty? Perhaps we'll find out.

rambling rosemarie

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