A Word from the Field - Bill Valley

Ambitious,  envious, suspicious...
Chosen.
Uneducated, smelly, profane...
Apostles.
Light from undeserving, unlikely lanterns.
Truth from willing, but imperfect vessels.

Faith Promise - Bill Valley, 4/27/14

The pendulum swings:

      marriages

                 and

                   baptisms

        then wakes

                  and burials.

Life has many flavors.

Wanted: laborers for the harvest,

                        definite call required.

Convinced, but not converted,

           the desperately lost

                    need desperately to be found.

Then the celebration begins:

                 euphoria – wild, crazy-happy.

Your love, oh Lord,

          is so much better than wine.

Let me taste it once again...

The Hinge of Faith, Tim Knipp, 4/20/14

HE IS RISEN!!

The Hinge of Faith, Tim Knipp, 4/20/14

Everything hinges on it.

Preserving the chain of evidence,
    Paul passed it on.
The dead Messiah -
   to many, a contradiction in terms,
           an oxymoron if you will -
               an acceptable sacrifice. 
His body entombed,
          that final period 
              at the end of a life's sentence.
This same body
       transfigured, yet recognizable,
               rose from death's clutches,
         shedding mortality
             and winding sheets.
Hundreds witnessed
     His presence post-death
            and marveled.

Reason cannot comprehend
                the science of it;
                  mass hallucinations
                        or madness were considered
           but discarded.
Evidence beyond a reasonable doubt
          confirms the impossible.

Do I really believe this?
      
 Everything hinges
           on my answer,
                for if it is true -
       factually true,
               not theologically
                   or mythologically
               or philosophically,
but actually true,
     then
breath catches,
      knees weaken,
            and awe enfolds me.

I will step across the 
                    threshold
                          with Him,
           eyes wide open,
no looking back.

The Master's Last Supper

4/8/14 by Carol M. Hansen (with input from Carlo Furlan)

The room was musty with the smell of body sweat 

  and stale smoke

         as we prepared for the Passover.

I recalled the reckless splendor 

    of the alabaster vial poured over the Master’s feet

        just the day before –

how the sweet, heavy scent 

       burst through the dank air 

               like a joyous reunion.

What was it He’d told us?

           She was preparing His body for burial?

      What were we supposed to make of that?

Was this another one of His parables?

When evening softened the heat of day,

we jostled into the small upstairs room – 

         more like a closet, really -

                our voices muted but cheerful.

Stretching tired legs, we reclined on elbows

          with grunts and sighs

but then the Master came with water 

to wipe our feet –

         our stinking, dust-coated feet!

Shocked into silence,

           only Peter protested, but Jesus persisted,

          patiently washing

                and drying each filthy foot,

                       head bent humbly to the servants’ task.

When He spoke it was to tell us 

we should do as He did:

“Love one another, as I have loved you,” He said,

 with that same confidence he always had when

presenting some audacious idea.

Everything in me rose up in protest

            at the idea of debasing myself like that,

and yet … 

did I think I was better than the Master?

As He settled in among us about the table,

     His face saddened as He ominously predicted:

                    “One of you will betray me.”

We glanced at one another in disbelief –

                  Who could it be?

                          Was this another riddle?

He nodded to Judas and instructed him

          to act quickly so

                      Judas rose stiffly and

swiftly blended with night’s shadows.

                      What could this mean?

The room was abuzz with

         speculation until Jesus began speaking,

saying that the shepherd would be struck 

         and the sheep would be scattered;

where He was going, we could not go.

His voice ragged with sorrow,

He continued to give us many warnings 

and predictions 

and reminders.

They swirled through my mind 

and I tried to grab

as much as I could 

to tuck away for later contemplation:

“In my Father’s house are many dwelling places…”

“I am the way, the truth and the life; 

          no one comes to the Father

but through Me.”

“Greater love has no one than this, 

            that one lay down his life for his friends.”

“Heaven and earth will pass away, 

                 but my words will not pass away.”

At one point during the meal, 

            He reached for the bread, saying,

“Take, eat; this is My body, broken for you.”

By this point, my mind was numb – 

                something wasn’t right,

but I couldn’t grasp what it was.

I watched the bread crumble in His fingers as He broke it,

heard the dull snap – His body?

The Master could be so baffling sometimes.

When we had each broken off a portion,

He lifted the wine and spoke again, 

               looking at each of us in turn:

“This is my blood of the covenant,

               which is poured out for many.

Drink from it, all of you.”

           His hand trembled as he passed the goblet,

And we in turn passed it from hand 

to rough hand in silence.

It was a somber moment, tinged with sorrow

and puzzlement,

             for our hearts were darkened

                and we could not grasp what we had heard.

We let the sweet wine slip down our throats

            knowing somehow that this moment –

                this meal –

          was much more than it seemed,

more even than the Passover 

it traditionally celebrated.

In awed silence, 

we waited

and wondered.

Arrival in Jerusalem - Tim Knipp, Apr. 13, 2014

The path to destruction 
      is wide
          and many walk it 
      blindly but willingly.

Pebbles shift under sandals,
  dust coughs
           and settles,
              coughs and settles.
Crowds swell,
            jostle, and chatter.

The entrance matters:
             seated humbly on a colt,

                     trodding
          a multi-colored carpet
                       of cloaks
              as foretold long ago.
  Recognition dawns,
        Hosanna's rise
            above the masses
      of swaying palm fronds.
Cautioned to quiet the mob,
          He weeps
                for blinded eyes
         that refuse to see.
    
I will cry for you,
         my lost one,
              my foolish child;
       determined
           to wander in dark alleys,
               confronted
                  with stubbed toes
           and heart sores.
I will weep for you
        because you have chosen
           destruction
              over peace,
         and death
over life.

On the Way to Jerusalem, Luke 17-19; Christian Anderson, 4/6/14

Expectations simmered for eons,
      waiting
               - for justice
           - for deliverance
                - for glory.Tension in the air,
     the long-oppressed
         anticipating
          sweet freedom
              in the form of a hero.
Along the way
        He stopped
                  again
                     and again
for
         - the unclean
                  - the youngsters
                       - the reviled.

The revolution is not
in strength
         or intellect
              or wealth
                     or influence.
Power comes
   from obedient dependence
     on the Holy Spirit.

Weakness became power
      as Jesus breathed His last -
           foolishness to some,
                         power to us.
The bloodied intersection
           of rough hewn wood
          became the symbol of a new
             revolution:
power in giving up
         our rights
              our safety
                  our life.

On the way to Jerusalem -
       to the ultimate battle 
               of the centuries -
Jesus took time for
           - lepers
              - children
                   - rich rulers
                        - tax collectors.
Who should I stop for
             along my way?