Growing Old #1
by Jane Tawel
Fidget and Bust
And feel the gears rust.
Irascible waste,
Mired in one place.
But wearing which groove?
Can I still choose?
And wearing which crown?
Digging down
Digging down
So daunting to move.
Category: Uncategorized
Happy Moment to You
Happy Moment To You
by Jane Tawel
January 1, 2017
I began the new year today at 3:00 am and soon hit the road to take my daughter to the airport to catch a return flight to Virginia. Under the klieg lights of LAX — rubbing tears into my eyes, giving my daughter a sharp hard hug… or two… all right maybe it was three… and then heading back into the dark, black but for the blinding headlights behind and oncoming, searing all colors from the landscape and impairing my vision. If I look at my life, bitten off whole, it can often seem like that – lots of dark, black but for the blinding lights. Blinding lights can hurt. Blinding lights can frighten. Blinding lights can keep you awake. Blinding lights can save. Christmas is a season full of different colored lights –and One Light that was Blinding and yet can save.
I began the new year today driving home, listening to what they call an alternative radio station and wishing there were an alternative. Coldplay’s “Yellow” came on and I thought about how my favorite color used to be yellow and how Coldplay singer guy’s mother died with yellow skin. Things happen in life– to people– and I feel fake at my age liking the color yellow. I wish I could be one of those cheerfully accepting purple -hatted red- dressed old ladies or whatever that was then, but when people ask me I tell them I don’t have a favorite color. Well, it depends, doesn’t it? Are you talking favorite color for a couch or favorite color for a sweater? Do I need a favorite color for a potato? Or a couch potato? Or a favorite color for a cleaning rag? What is your favorite color? For a sunset? Or a rainbow? Or your favorite color for understanding? Or for a memory? Or for a hug? Or your favorite color for a moment?
I started the new year today driving silently on rain-teared freeways and wishing the stain-teared world a “Happy New Year”. But what a silly thing to do. Because there is no such thing as a happy new year. What color the year will be for you or for me or for any one remains to be seen and it might not be one of our happy favorite colors. And yellow can change its meaning from favorite to sad. Every year is guaranteed to be full of lots of contrasting colors for each of us. In fact, there is no such thing as a new year at all. There is only this new moment. I acutely realized that this new morning as in the blink of an eye, I laid on my horn to wake up some one’s father or sister or child going 90 miles an hour, and to prevent me and Polly Prius being hit and pushed into the semi-truck on my right side. I just had that single solitary moment in which to live. No more. We all – the someone’s crazy -driving relative, the semi-driver, and I –just had that instantaneous moment. To live. To choose. To breathe. To think. To yell into the dark. To pray. To thank the Lord. One more moment. Not one more year. Never a whole year. Not even a whole week. Not even a whole day. No one has that. We all just have One. More. Moment.
I began my new year with just one more moment to get home and text my daughter waiting in the airport for her one more moment. I texted, “I’m home. Praying for you. I love you.”
In this new moment, as I sit and type, my husband and other children are still asleep. In the next minute I plan on getting up and if I do, I’ll pour my second cup of coffee. I am thankful to have this moment to hear The Beloveds still breathing– Still alive in the rooms that contain our now stale Christmas decorations and half -eaten boxes of candy. The Christmas colors and lights surrounding me in this new dawn, remind me of all the happy minutes in the past week. I am so full of sweetly-remembered minutes I want to clutch them tightly to hold onto and never let them go. I want to hoard them like a new box of Crayola crayons and get them out just to look at from time to time. They are all such pretty colored memoried moments.
But some of life’s moments aren’t all that great. Some of life’s moments aren’t pretty colors at all. In this same moment in this same city my friend sits in the hospital by her daughter. In this moment, while I pour my second cup of coffee, she has one more moment of blindingly agonizing fear and pain. While my daughter crams her bag in an overhead compartment, my friend’s daughter is crammed full of tubes. The color yellow looks different under my dining room’s glowing lights; yellow seems different under the airplane’s muted lights; yellow feels different under the hospital’s blinding lights. Blinding lights can hurt. Blinding lights can frighten. Blinding lights can keep you awake. Blinding lights can save. I hope and pray in this. one. moment. that the One True Blinding Light will change the colors for my friend and her daughter.
I began my new year thinking about all the people in all the world who can’t remember their last happy moment, and all the people who won’t have one more happy minute, let alone a whole Happy New Year. I began my new year thinking about the cascading waterfall of all the happy minutes of my life. So many moments dancing like rainbow-hued water drops reflecting The Light. Just like a favorite color, I don’t have a favorite moment. And in this world, strangely, moments need contrasting colors to make sense, don’t they? Otherwise it’s like driving in the dark. Or into a blinding light.
It’s hard to say what color a moment truly is. Like a prism, a life lived out and held up to The Light, in the perspective of Eternity, changes every moment into something new. And each moment becomes its own Infinity Box of Crayola -colored Eternity fulfilled.
Right now, only Now, I have this gloriously joyful emerging-colored moment. It could be someone’s idea of a favorite colored moment. But I am in fact, living in a completely new undiscovered –until- this- very- heartbeat, new moment’s hue.
I shall name my newly discovered color: Enough.
And this moment is henceforth called, Enough. It is enough. It is meant to be enough. It is Created Enoughness. It is a Universe of Enoughness.
I began the new year with just one guarantee– No guarantees. Not for a happy new year, at any rate. Not even a guarantee I’ll live another minute in this world. But right now I could guarantee myself that I can live this eternal moment and it can be deemed Enough. In this moment, I can accept and embrace Enoughness. One whole moment of Enoughness. One moment to breathe deeply. One moment to smile. One moment for a tear drop. For a belly laugh. One moment for a song. For a thought. One moment to see. One moment to listen. One moment to reach out to someone. One moment to be home. One moment to risk. One moment to explore. One moment to wait. One moment to pray. To ask. To praise. To thank. One moment to say, “I love you.”
And that is more than enough.That is every thing. This moment is a many-hued kaleidoscope of Eternity’s Enoughness. I can guarantee you — I think it is going to be one of my favorites.
Happy New Enoughness to you and yours – in this very moment. Period.
The Sky Is Indeed Falling and There are Wolves in the Woods by Jane Tawel
The Sky is Indeed Falling and There are Wolves in the Woods
by Jane Tawel
My husband and son call me “Chicken”. I have somehow lost all my other nicknames, including “wifey” or “mom”. And now that I am the sole female left to live amongst my two men, their daughters and sisters having moved to different Dreamlands, I am beckoned or lovingly teased by being called “Chicken”.
Raoul and Gordon tell me I have achieved this moniker because I am always, and they mean ALWAYS, screaming. Shrieking, they claim. Hence, I am a “chicken”. Evidently I not only scream during scary and violent movies, which I am now forbidden to watch in their presence, but I am told I also scream, when in the passenger seat; when someone quietly comes up behind me unexpectedly; when some thing bangs in the wind; and I scream, when, or so I am told, a fly lands on the counter, a kitten walks by, a child sneezes, an ant passes in front of me, or someone silently nods their head unexpectedly. I am a Chicken.
I have lately been called, I think “Chicken” perhaps by many of my friends and family. Perhaps not to my face, but, there is definitely the feeling that many consider me “Chicken” in the sense of the old fairy tale, “Chicken Little”, or “Henny Penny” as the Brexits call it. It is true. I have been unable to clear my head ever since the large piece of firmament fell on it in the last weeks, toppled from the sky, Made in the USA, in the land in which I live. I have been running around, screaming, “The Sky is Falling! The Sky is Falling!” My head literally still feels numb and aching — as if my head will blow apart — from the very large chunk of celestial matter that fell right on top of my mind. It is like a window in my mind opened up, was blown to bits in fact, and I could suddenly see out on a world that I might have suspected was the reality in which I lived, but which I could still turn away from. Now I feel as if my mind’s eye is forced to look out that blown out window at what my world — physical, human, and spiritual — is really like after all. It is mind-blowing — like being hit on the head with a sky boulder.
The phrase, “The sky is falling” is meant to imply that the person, or “Chicken” saying it, is foolish and hysterical — humorous –if it weren’t for the fact that the chicken convinces so many of her friends — the Duck, the Goose, the Rabbit — to panic and run with her because the sky is falling. All these peaceful, non-aggressive truth-seeking animals eventually let the Fox lead them to the Lion — the King of the Forest. The Fox assures all the wrongly hysterical animals that the Lion will confirm whether the sky is in fact falling or not. Of course — the Lion assures them they are hysterical and that the sky is in fact not falling. Then he eats them. The clever, wily Fox enjoys the leftovers.
So you see, even though everyone tells the story as if the Chicken is foolish and wrong, in the end she is right. The world might not have been ending right then for everyone, not necessarily because the sky was literally falling, but Chicken Little’s world of peace and unity and justice and love and joy, did end. Just not the way she expected. The sky is falling is a metaphor — and of course some of us believe metaphors are always truer than fact — deeper Truth needing to be told in pictures or poetry. The World doesn’t get better. It does actually end. It ends because a predator capitalist fox and a greedy power-mongering lion, ate Chicken and the other animals — not because they were hungry, but because they could,(and because Chicken was irritating). Just like in the past, a predator fascist Fox and a greedy power mongering Lion ate other animals. And a predator communist Fox and a greedy power-mongering Lion ate other animals. And a predator Khmer Rouge Fox and a greedy power mongering Lion ate other animals. And before that a predator European Fox and a greedy power mongering Colonist Lion ate other animals. And before that, and before that, and before that, and before that, and before that. . . .
And once a Fox named Herod and a Lion called God’s Chosen People Judah, killed a Chicken named Jesus.
And throughout time, Chicken Littles are mocked or calmed or silenced. Or crucified. Chickens are told that it is time to move on– “The sky hasn’t fallen, Join us!”, — and we all need to just go back to the pretense of getting along. But Chicken Little was right. Because unless we are caring for the sky, and the earth, and the children, and the other animals, and each other, and Yahweh, and unless we are caring for justice and truth and free will and sharing and serving and mercy and love and shalom — well then, the sky is always going to be falling. The climate is indeed, always changing. And we want to look at a dark night sky and call it daylight. But the sky is falling. And it always has been, since The Fall. Falling. Falling. Falling.
Until Jesus comes riding in on the clouds. Then the Falling will stop.
Trust me, this doom of mine really bugs people. You are so bugged right now. And I do not blame you. I am not a very good prophet — not really one at all — I am after all, not Chicken Little but, as my boys will tell you, I am “Little Chicken”. I don’t mean by this story I’ve retold here, to compare myself to any true prophetic voices — but there are plenty of true prophets out there. They are even more irritating that I am because they are much smarter and more spiritual than I.
And I don’t blame you for being upset. No one likes to hear their Sky is falling. Not even Chicken Little– after all she keeps trying to prove to her own self that she is wrong! She is looking for signs and people to convince her she is wrong. But her head is still hurting from the blow and she is still looking out of the window. And she can’t not see or feel. And she can’t not hear the voices of the prophets, written on subway walls and in Bible verses.
After the prophets are shut up or killed, the people left don’t care. They can finally move on. They get to live on with the knowledge that they were right. The sky didn’t fall after all. And so everyone gets to say, “I was right, see. You were wrong.” Only a wee part of the sky fell and that part doesn’t affect me. Everyone is safe in the knowledge that they were right.
Except Chicken Little. She’s dead.
You know, the Lion of Judah — the real Aslan — compared Himself to a chicken. In his own words, Jesus said: “Jerusalem, Jerusalem, you who kill the prophets and stone those sent to you, how often I have longed to gather your children together, as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, and you were not willing. Look, your house is left to you desolate. I tell you, you will not see me again until you say, ‘Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord.” (Luke 13: 34, 35)
Jesus’ hearers would have remembered their scripture and the words that God Himself spoke to His Chosen People, Israel in Psalm 91, when God compares Himself to a Chicken.
Surely he will save you
from the fowler’s snare
and from the deadly pestilence.
He will cover you with his feathers,
and under his wings you will find refuge;
his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.
. Perhaps what has really made my mind go numb lately as if a piece of the heavens had fallen on top of it, is the forgetfulness of God’s people about Who God is, Who Jesus is. About my forgetfulness about Who God Is. You see God and Jesus are Chickens. God and Jesus try to warn us over and over and over again, through their prophets, through their Words, through metaphor and myth and story and laws and examples– through Jesus’ non- powerful death as a criminal on a cross — through The Father’s non-greedy serving heart — God warns us that the Sky is Indeed Falling– but that you, dearly beloved, do not need to panic like chickens with your heads cut off. You do not need to look to any one — not the Fox nor the Lion — to tell you the truth and save you. You do not need to fear or grasp, or grab, or deny, or fall by the wayside and curl up in a little ball of denial. BUT — (God loves this conditional conjunction and uses it often) BUT!! — My beloved little chicks, says God: You do need to waddle along on your little feet and imprint on Me, Your Mother Chicken.You do need to obey me. You do need to repent.You do need to follow in the ways of my servant Son. You do need to see and speak the truth. You do need to love. You do need to be different. You do need to trust Me. You do need to converse with Me and listen. You do need to walk the narrow path. You need to seek The Kingdom and The King. You need to lay up treasures that don’t have a president’s picture on them. You need to worship in humility and joy not power and comfort. You need to cover yourself not with the strength of the Lion, but with the blood of The Lamb.
But you know, there are always people who want to see God as being on the side of the Fox and the Lion. There will always be those of us who can not submit to a God who uses feathers not claws. There are always people who will do semantic and spiritual gymnastics to get the leftovers. We always prefer the powerful because we prefer not to trust. And so the sky keeps falling and people call it evolution. And the world never changes til the end, but we call it progress. And the prophets are killed and we call it reality. And the Son of Man weeps and calls… until He judges. And one day He gathers His chicks to a new earth and a new sky.
You know to be honest, of course, the Chicken Littles really just want, like everyone else, to turn off the violence, and not look at the signs, and not scream any more, and go back to pretending that they were never hit on the head with a piece of the sky. But until this Little Chicken gets tired and folds her cards and admits she is trumped. . . . well, as any one will tell, you, I hate gambling so until I get that tired….. I’d rather read a good story and keep inviting you all to hear Good Stories as well.
Tomorrow I will tell you the story of “Peter and the Wolf” — another prophetic myth seldom told any more. After all, the “Wolf of Wall Street” is a lot more fun to hear. And The Ending is to die for.
“Chicken and Her Men”
A Song of Prepositions: Act III: Behind
A Song of Prepositions– Act III
For Patrick –In Anticipation
Behind
By Jane Tawel
I can Not run with Your Light in my eyes.
Your Sun blinds me to the path ahead
And I see stars and darkness instead of Sunlight.
My head aches trying to see straight.
I need Your Son behind me
Like The Wind but not as pushy.
I need Your Sun behind –lighting the way
Around the shadow of my body’s darkness.
Ah, Patrick, Did you ever, like I
Prefer the Son behind you
Not before you?
Not around you?
Behind.
Trip Lightly
Trip Lightly
Or “It’s The Little Stones That Trip You Up”
by Jane Tawel
August 20,2016
It’s the little stones that trip you up. The guy who almost hits you as he speeds past. The bill you paid on time but that got sent back because at 4:00 in the morning, you didn’t see it was a two cent stamp. (How the heck did I still have a 2 cent stamp in that drawer?!) It’s the little pebbles like that shoulder /neck ache combo. It’s that giant yoke of a backpack. And by the way, it’s still bugging you about that person who cut in line ahead of you. Oh, and there’s also the constant sales pitch from that group that will not let you Unsubscribe. The heat. The dust. The thingy that is never working properly. The tiredness. The bird poop. The person that said that thing that way. The person who didn’t respond right. All those little pebbles you didn’t see in your road and you can’t figure out why you just stumbled into a depression.
And after a morning or a day or a week of little stones getting in the soles of your journeying shoes, you find all the little pebbles have lodged inside the Soul of your Journeying Self. And rather than the outside rocks tripping you up, and making you wonder irritably why you feel bad; it’s the inside heart of stone that is making you wander angrily and aimlessly, looking for something to numb the pain.
And you know how truly horrifically bad it is for some people. And you know you have more important things to think about. And pray about. (God knows you do!) And you know God doesn’t like you to be crotchety. And you know Jesus isn’t like that.
And you know you currently just can’t give a flying fandango.
Because those stones, just like a bunch of gall stones or kidney stones have lodged in your gut, and are preventing important movement forward.
Just like kidney stones, the experts will tell you the pebbles of life tripping you up are itty bitty microscopic little specs of trouble and worry. If you’ve ever had a kidney stone, you know that as you writhe in pain, the fact that the stone is microscopic compared to other things is a mute point — unlike your groans which you cannot mute.
The experts will tell you, “this stone too will pass”. And if after self-medicating, you still weren’t so bogged down by the constant throbbing dull pain of life’s stones, you would kill those smug experts in their sleep. Maybe with a big rock.
As they say in Narnia, you want to go “further up and further in” but you have soles and a soul full of stones. You’re so busy looking down and shaking a leg to dislodge the pebble, that you can’t look Up. And your progress on the narrow path, gets slower and darker and more painful. But you keep treadmilling ahead even with aching feet. You just can’t find a way to stop and throw out the stones. Or you’re afraid if you stop, you won’t be progressing, achieving, gettin’ it done . You thought you were clipping along briskly — how the hey did you end up on this sweaty treadmill? What is that stuck in your shoe?! What is that –stuck ON your shoe!? Again?!?!? Oh, Cr_ _!!
You can see the Rest Stop just up the bend, but you are stuck in the slow lane full of the smoggy traffic of your treadmill troubles.
You also know that people get tired of your being so negative all the time about all the ” little stuff”. But you want to talk about stuff to process it. But sometimes — not always — but sometimes talking about the negative stuck stuff with someone else is sort of like trying to blend a handful of rocks in your Kitchen aide Blender. It will only break your blender. Processing is tricky and there are people you need to do it with and for, but you want to be care-full not to take out the pebbles in your shoes only to add them to the soles of your listeners. It makes for a “rocky relationship” sometimes.
I think even our ever patient and loving God must get tired of listening to my stones grind around in the blender prayers of my relationship with Him. I think He often has all these positive, affirming, encouraging, nutritional things to blend into my relationship with Him. If I let Him get a Word in edgewise.
But I am often just too overwhelmed and I kinda’ start to hate myself. And everyone else. And there is no joy in the journey with shoes full of stones.
And my soul gets hard rather than strong. Rocks have good, solid, important qualities but they aren’t meant to be in your shoes. Rocks make good metaphors for lots of things, but not the heart.
Jehovah/ Jesus is often referred to as Our Rock, but a lot of times, I make Him just one more little pebble stuck in my shoe that I’m trying to stand on. How can I walk on The Rock of my Salvation if I don’t throw out the sinful stones in my soul?
If I could only stop picking up those irritating stuck pebbles on The Way.
But maybe I’m full of rocks because I’m not resting enough to pick the pebbles out before they cause me to stumble.
Maybe I need to walk barefoot in the sand more often. Maybe I need to pick up a good pair of dancing shoes. Maybe I need to stop walking alone. Maybe I need to let The Comforter Insole In-Soul — lend support. Maybe I need to “become like a little child” and be carried for a while.
“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for i am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your soul. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” Matthew 11:28-30
Songs for Prepositions: Act II: A Haiku
Act II: A Haiku about a Prepositional Misunderstanding
By Jane Tawel
July 13, 2016
God does not love me
For who I am but loves me
For Who Yahweh Is.
Songs for Prepositions: Act I
Act I: “Dwelling”
A Song for Prepositions
By Jane Tawel
July 12, 2016
I desire to not dwell on it;
I desire only to dwell in it–
With You.
It’s true,
They want to build a wall against the tide
But I long for You to build a wall around my heart
To hedge me in, a prisoner in the walls of Your mercy and forgiveness,
A porous wall of Water that trespasses on the throne of my self
And keeps Your Spirit in,
Not them out.
My skin-wall is not me.
Your skin-wall is not you.
We keep making each other so sad
And the tears don’t wash away the colors
Of our collective, hateful grief.
I desire not to dwell on it,
I desire to dwell in it.
Inside–
A wall to keep the rushing fountains of Your love
Emigrating out to Immigrants I welcome in
To the circled enclosure of Our love.
We keep talkin’ ‘bout, talkin’ ‘bout, talkin’ bout,
The colors of,
The multi, separating colors of the world,
But You in agonizing silence,
Rebirthed us in one color only
The color Red
The Red of Your Blood
Shed.
So many colors shedding other folk’s blood
I have to start telling them today,
It’s all been already shed for you
No matter your hue.
From Costcos to bodegas
From favelas to beach fronts,
It’s time to sing a psalm of
Equitable housing for all.
If we can let Him trespass on the property rights of our souls
We can dwell in a new world mansion forever,
No more weapons, no more nightlights,
No security but His eternal light.
The housing of my skin is just like yours
A thin covering of dust which will return to dust, to dust, dust,
I simply must,
Get out of my skin and into your heart,
Like He has done to mine.
We will either cease and desist or we
Will live together forever.
It’s time to sing a psalm:
“We will dwell in Your House forever.”
Or not.
Zechariah 2:5 “ ‘For I’, declares the Lord, ‘will be a wall of fire around her, and I will be the glory in her midst’.”
Psalm 23:6 “Surely Your goodness and unfailing love shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever.”
What’s In Your Center?
A Devotional Thought on Christ-Centeredness
By Jane Tawel
June 7, 2016
As a lot of Christian businesses and churches do, at my work place we talk a lot about being “Christ-centered”. Do we know what that means?
What does “centered” mean? The definition in the Oxford Dictionary is “having a central axis” and we Christians must believe that our “axis” goes through the whole earth. Our axis is the cross of Christ. That central axis of Christ’s cross is true and it always points due North. So “centered” means our life compass points due North through the cross of Christ.
What does “Christ” or Cristos mean? The Greek word “Cristos” means “the anointed one of God, The Lord”. The overriding biblical meaning of Christ is the anointed KING. So we are saying that we in this place, in this world, in this nation, city, office, house, in this community– serve Jesus the Cross bearer – the God-image bearer — as The King of the World. We serve. Jesus spoke a lot about himself as the King and what His Kingdom and His followers were like – or where, and how and what His Center would be.
In John 18:37 We find Jesus confirming his kingly identity to a mere politician of this world, one who will soon put the Ruler of the Ages, The King of All Kings to death on a Roman cross. Jesus tells Pilate. “For this was I born.” To be the King.
To His first disciples, Jesus offers no cheap grace. No excuses. No alternatives. If you want Jesus to be the center, if you want Him in charge, if you want to put His name on your propaganda, if you want to be Christ-centered, then you must do as He says. Which of course would include the whole testimony of YHWH, all the laws and prophets, and God-spoken words which we find in the Old Testament. Jehovah’s law was Christ’s law. “I came to fulfill the law, by my Kingly rule in my upside down Kingdom.” God’s word was in Christ– The Word –from the beginning. God’s word IS Christ. The Word of God in Christ is the Center of the universe, of time, of our history and of eternity.
Luke 6:46: “Why do you call me Lord, Lord, and not do as I say?”
Jan Victors in “The Anointing of Jesus” writes:
To use the word “Lord” displays an attitude of obedient submission to a greater power. Jesus seems even to expect that those who call him Lord obey him. To his listeners he asked, “Why do you call Me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ and do not do what I say?” (Luke 6:46) To call him “Lord” or to call him Jesus “Christ” is to say that he is the King that God has sent who has a right to reign over us.
This has implications about how we define ourselves as Christians. Usually, we talk in terms of doctrines and beliefs, but the very word “Christ” calls us to more than assenting to a creed. If Christ means King, a Christian is one who considers Jesus his Lord and King, and submits to his reign. (Victors, OurRabbiJesus.com)
So what does that mean? Well it means that our number one thing on our renewable daily “To Do List” is that, day by day, moment by moment, we live as if only Jesus were around and as if we were the only Jesus around – as if the image of God that was in Christ Jesus is in me. You are created to be the image of the unseen God just as the True Image Bearer, Jesus The Christ, was and is.
At my Christian school the faculty was asked to discuss the new and revised “Statement of Faith” that we all must sign. There were several folk who were discussing our Faith Statement and remarking that to them, the word “evangelical” which was used in several places, means different things to different people. Not to put them down in the slightest, but let me just tell you what “evangelical” means to me.
Being “evangelical” means that I live as if the very most important thing in all the earth is the human soul. My soul. And Your Soul. And that because my soul was created before time to be eternal. Ephesians 1:4 assures us that “even before he made the world, God loved us and chose us in Christ to be holy and without fault in his eyes.”
The Human Soul, which is every thing that sets us apart from all else, our mind, our heart, our will – that “very good” thing that God created is a valuable and valued thing to the holy, living Creative God, three in One, YHWH, Jesus Messiah, and the Holy Spirit alive in me.
Because of that, because I was bought with the greatest price a God can pay to redeem a human soul from the weight of sin, the agony of death, and the curse of eternal separation from the Creator – God paid that price through His only Son with His death from the weight of my sin and as a propitiation on a cruel cross – because of that, then I must take to heart that what the bible says is true about the King and His eternal kingdom – a Kingdom established before Time, real in the present, and fulfilled with a new heaven and new earth in the future.
So what does The King say about how His redeemed should be centered in Him?
John 3:3 – “You must be born again. Truly, truly I say to you, unless a human is born of the water and the spirit, he cannot enter the kingdom of God.”
Matt 16:26 – For what shall it profit a woman if she gains the whole world but forfeits her soul? For what shall a man give in exchange for his soul?
Matthew 19:23: And Jesus said to his disciples, “Truly, I say to you, only with difficulty will a rich person enter the kingdom of heaven.”
Matt. 23:25 – “Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You clean the outside of the cup and dish, but inside they are full of greed and self-indulgence.
When is the last time I asked the King to point out the dirt inside my cup? When is the last time I confessed my greed and self-indulgence?
We live in beautiful vessels – healthy, well dressed, nice colors of skin. At my school, we claim to have Christ “in the center” of what we proclaim to be the most beautiful high school campus “of its kind” in the San Gabriel Valley. But what “of its kind” is this place?
No matter if we call ourselves a Christ-centered school, or Christ-honoring church, or Christian nation, or a Jesus-Freak– If we are putting things on from the outside, with statements and policies, creeds and lifestyle statements, fields and uniforms, trophies and landscaping, higher grades and deeper benefits, winning streaks and more free food — but our insides—the soul of us so to speak — are not washed clean by the blood, are not purged from sin, are not daily under the ministrations of His nail-scarred hands, then we are hypocrites. If we choose to hide or ignore the dirt – if we are more self-centered than Christ-centered – then what is at the center of us?
You know when you get those candy boxes and you aren’t sure what filling is inside – so you take a bite and quickly spit it back out because it is some ooey gooey fake berry filling and not the lovely caramel and nuts you had hoped for? Our King says if His Bracingly Cold Fresh, Clean Living Water is not at our center – or if His Hot Purifying, Bathing, Cleansing Water is not at our center, then like a stale, icky Sees “lukewarm” candy, God will spit us out.
In Revelations 3 Jesus says as much to The Church at Laodicea – but He could be saying as much to me.
15 “‘I know your works: you are neither cold nor hot. Would that you were cold or hot! 16 So, because you are lukewarm, and neither cold nor hot, I will spew you out of my mouth. 17 For you say, I am rich, I have prospered, and I need nothing; not knowing that you are wretched, pitiable, poor, blind, and naked. 18 Therefore I counsel you to buy from me gold refined by fire, that you may be rich, and white garments to clothe you and to keep the shame of your nakedness from being seen, and salve to anoint your eyes, that you may see. 19 Those whom I love, I reprove and chasten; so be zealous and repent. 20 Behold, I stand at the door and knock; if any one hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and eat with him, and he with me. 21 He who conquers, I will grant him to sit with me on my throne, as I myself conquered and sat down with my Father on his throne.22 He who has an ear, let him hear what the Spirit says to the churches.’”
So here is my last “evangelical” word for now: He knows our centers. He formed my center. He adores your center. And He knows if Christ is there. I can’t put Christ’s name on the outside – it needs to be from my inside. We are commanded not to ever use The Lord’s name in vain – and in vain means I give Him credit He doesn’t want. It means I am really pushing my agenda ahead under my own steam, but just to make sure I want to use – in vain–without really turning anything over to Him – I want to use the power of His Holy Name – in case. Usually it means I put His name on something that rightfully belongs to this World’s kingdoms, and policies, and politics and powers. When my compass is off, then rather than journeying the central axis that leads due North, I am not only not centered, I am spinning around in circles, with an ever changing, ever confusing center. I’m off center, not Christ- centered. No matter what I wish were true.
The King wants to know us for who we were best created to be – not okay, not so-so, the best. And He longs for us to know Him –Jesus Messiah– The Center of the Kingdom, The Center of it All. “My sheep know my voice.”
In Matthew 7: 21-23, Jesus looks at the human souls before Him in the final judgement and speaks these chilling words: “Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but the one who does the will of my Father who is in heaven. On that day many will say to me, ‘Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name, and cast out demons in your name, and do many mighty works in your name?’ And then will I declare to them, ‘I never knew you; depart from me, you workers of lawlessness.’ Evangelical? Definitely.
When I hear that from the Center of the World, I am very afraid. It’s sobering news. But it’s also good news! Because nothing else matters if you have Christ in the center. It’s doesn’t matter who will run this nation – that is peripheral – It doesn’t matter who wins the game – it’s a game. What matters is – the King is in the Center. “Ring around the King –We all fall down – and worship.” Evangelism means I ask every one: Is He in the center of your soul? Right now?
Jesus is very clear about how we are to live for Him. We are to crucify ourselves (Gal. 2:20) We are to put others before our own desires — even our enemies – we are to not to merely tolerate, not be simply nice, not even to chivalrously turn the other cheek – we are to love others, even our enemies, as Christ loved us. (Matt 5:44) We are to love God, YHWH, the Holy God with every part of our being – heart, mind, soul, and strength (Luke 10:27). And we are to worship the Lord, the King – as a King above all kings and Lord above all lords. Rev. 19:16 on his robe and on his thigh it is written King above all kings and Lord above all lords.
I believe evangelical means that I can not shut up until every one knows intimately as a bride knows her bridegroom — the ruler of this universe – my King Jesus – until—
10 at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, of those in heaven, and of those on earth, and of those under the earth, 11 and that every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.” (Phil 2:10-11)
I believe Christ- centered means I submit to the king as a servant of all and that I allow my soul to be refined for eternity, for if Christ is not in the Center of this very moment for me, then He is certainly not in the center of a place – school, family, nation, business office, house, or church building – all of which will pass away as all temporal things will.
If Jesus, The King is not sanctifying my innermost parts into His image daily, then He is certainly not at the center of my job, my family, or my friendships. With everything the world has to offer but without Christ in the Center— I am nothing. But Christ in me, means I have nothing in this world but everything in God.
We should be sobered – and elated both – that the description of The Christ that we are proclaiming to be in our very inner most centers comes from: Philippians 2:6-11
6 Jesus, The Christ —who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, 7 but emptied himself, taking the form of a servant,[a] being born in the likeness of men. 8 And being found in human form he humbled himself and became obedient unto death, even death on a cross. 9 Therefore God has highly exalted him and bestowed on him the name which is above every name, 10 that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, 11 and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.
If today my soul were a piece of candy, what would be in my center?
Happy Tom’s Day and Meacher Appreciation Week!
Happy Tom’s Day and Meacher Appreciation Week to You!
By Jane Tawel
May 7, 2016 Reflections the Day Before “Mother’s Day” on Parenting and Teaching and Teaching and Parenting
Okay, let’s say upfront — tomorrow is a Hallmark holiday. But hey, it is mine own Hallmark Holiday so with minimum fanfare and fat, we’ll celebrate it. The best parts are always the cards that make me think I’m probably terminal but the kids haven’t told me yet, since they tend to gush about how great I am and always have been. Later that day I will drive them crazy again making me hopeful I’m not –unbeknownst to me– dying of something. My son I suspect will be terse and cheap — as he reminded me on my birthday, “Mom I didn’t buy you a present because I’d just have to use your money to buy it any way.” Good call, I gotta say. Hope he’s always being that honest — especially when he tells me where he’s been until 11:00 pm at night.
This past week incidentally has also been Teacher Appreciation Week — now I think rather than teachers accepting mugs and apples and flowers and candy and free lunches during this week of appreciation, we should have just that one week, when like other government officials and professionals, we can accept bribes and slush funds — in the forms of cars, vacations, and monetary bonuses at least 4 figures long. But hey, maybe I’ve been both a teacher and mother too long. I have been both to the same four kids quite a long time too. June 29 will mark 26 years of parenting plus the previous 9 months of gestation — which I count by the way.
So parenting and teaching always go hand in hand, whether you acknowledge one or the other or not. Good parenting is like helping someone ride a horse. At first the parent rides behind on a sturdy saddle, clutching the baby tightly and firmly speaking nonsense to both horse and child. As a toddler, you let the child ride along, ensconced in a very sturdy saddle but, you lead the horse. In fact you lead the horse AND the horse is tied to a pole that goes around in a very small circle. You have realized by the time you are out there alone with the reins clutched and your eyes on the child’s delighted or terrified face, that all horses are dangerous and as a parent you are responsible for every waking and sleeping moment, every bump and poop pile in the road of your child’s life. When the child hits the preteens and really begins to rebel against riding any horse, especially one that a parent has picked, you run behind with a long stick and you prod the horse or you run recklessly before the teen’s horse and coax it forward with a carrot. Some time around then the mom begins to stand on the sidelines cheering when your “baby” rides her horse over the hurtle, crying privately when the horse throws the kid into the mud, and hugging your taller than you baby (sometimes you are only allowed to hug them in in your mind) when he comes home dirtied but safe, having learned a valuable lesson in riding through a day, or a test, or a broken relationship — riding through life all on his own.
Then one day Mom/ Teacher looks in amazement as the child has found and does new tricks on that one horse– the dream horse of a certain breed and color that your child can ride without any one holding the reins; she is riding it, flying through life’s courses bareback on her very own horse. You had thought a few times while the child was growing up, that that horse would be his “dream horse” but you had no idea, what he could accomplish, could envision, could love in the way he rides that horse. That’s when you know you have parented and taught to the best of your ability — because that one horse is exactly the one your child was created to ride — it is her dream. Your kids will still fall a lot and get hurt and you will often want to go grab them and ride with them in front of you holding on so tight they will never, ever get hurt again You are more than willing to take the falls for them. But you can’t. It’s not your horse any more. There isn’t a saddle for you. You can still cheer from the sidelines. You can still cry when they break an arm. You will pray your knees raw for them. You will be in agony if they are so badly hurt they can’t ride that horse any more. But you will be okay with doing all of that. Because you love them. And you still have your own horse to ride.
Once you become a parent/ teacher or teacher/ parent you will have found your own horse to ride bareback. No matter how many other horses come along to fulfill no matter how many of your dreams — you will still be always and forever riding the horse that your child or your student gave you on that very first day you became a parent / teacher. And your riding abilities better be pretty darn pliable because that child will put your heart through tricks and tumbles, turns and jumps you never ever thought you could or even knew you wanted to do. But I wouldn’t trade my parent/teacher rodeo for all the Rodeo Drives in the world!
All parents have the minds of teachers and all teachers have the hearts of parents — because both of these life-roles — they are so much more than jobs, that the word “job” becomes a besmirching lie when used for either — both mother and teacher pour their hearts into the care of the child and both teacher and mother want the child to gain skills, to grow, to learn, to gain wisdom and character, and to at least pass the SAT test, for Pete’s sake. Really we should have a hybrid name. It would be really useful when the calendar comes up with Mother’s Day and Teacher’s Week in the same week of the year. We could all be called Meachers or Toms? Paculty? or Farents?
We often say as teachers that our goal and our happiness are the same — to see “the lights go on” in students’ minds. When you are teaching a young child, they are completely in the dark. It is your house and you grab his sticky little hand, turn on a light and start flipping switches in rooms and turning on lights. You turn a switch and they learn to say “Dada”; you turn on a light in the next room, and they learn to read Go Dog, Go; you turn on a light and in that room they learn to drive a car, go on a date, play the violin, or do calculus — or maybe that calculus room stays forever dark, like mine did, who knows. But you are turning on lights and saying, “See!” “What do you see here?” “Do you like it?” “Sit here awhile”. “Turn the page.” “Watch out!” “Slow down or you’ll trip, let me turn on the light first. See? See? See?”
Now some teachers and parents get stuck thinking that it will always be their job to turn on the lights. Of course, every kid knows that is not the case, so some teachers and parents think they are still holding the student’s hand and turning on the lights and that’s a wee bit sad. It’s a ghost hand. The kid is in another room. I still do it myself time and time again, and it’s sad. But when you get teaching right, you move from the first stage of leading and turning on the lights, to the second stage of still holding their hand, but letting them turn on their own lights, even though it’s still your house. But the final stage is when you as a teacher/ parent are out in the front yard of the child’s house and you aren’t in any of the rooms — if you did a good job, the kid will have a framed photograph of you on a couple of the walls, nicely backlit, but you it is not your house any more, you are on the outside looking in.
And as you watch in the gloaming of your life if you are so blessed, you see the most astounding thing — no matter how many students and how many kids you have “stalked’ — standing outside their houses — it will every time amaze and move you to tears, laughter, joy, and bittersweet memories and hopes– all at the same time. Because you will be standing outside that house of that child’s and you will see– way in the back corner room, a little nightlight glow; and then in the upstairs front bedroom where in your house, you taught them how to correct their term papers, you will see a strong desk light turn on — like magic it seems– the child must have turned it on himself! The kitchen will light up bright and cheery — that’s where you put together puzzles and meals, sometimes mistakenly getting the pieces of them mixed up together with Waldo in the spaghetti sauce and cookie dough on the Santa Barbara Mission! And then the living room will become warmly lit from within, and through your tears of pride and the front room window, you will see that child of yours hold her baby, read to his very own toddler, defend his dissertation, or change the oil in her car, and you will know that you did turn on some very important and wonderful lights indeed in the child’s heart and mind. Because that is how he can now love and teach, teach and love, how she can turn on some lights for her very own child and student — because that is how you first taught her.
The porch light will sometimes come on while you are standing out there in the front yard. It is welcoming you in — but it is welcoming you into the no -longer- your- home. It is welcoming you as a student into your child’s home. When you become a teacher /parent you are always a parent / teacher, and because of that you are always a curious child and an eager learner. The front porch light means the Owner of the house is saying: ” I may not do it the way you did, I may not have gotten everything you thought you wished I got, there are some things I didn’t learn, but others I never thought I could and maybe you didn’t either! –but I have this brightly lit house because of you Parent/ Teacher and now, I love you as my Friend. And now, I want to teach you. Now I want to parent you. Now I want to share my lights with you. Come in. Watch out, don’t trip, let me get the light first. Have a seat. Let me show you something. See? See? See?”
I don’t know if today you as a teacher/ parent are in the riding – behind the child phase or the holding the reins of the toddler’s horse phase or in the watching silently from the sidelines phase of your parenthood. I don’t know if you as a teacher are in the switching on the lights, pointing out the light switches, or standing outside the house watching all the brilliant chandeliers and nightlights and lava lights go on. But wherever you are, enjoy the ride, don’t be afraid of the dark, keep the lights burning so they always know they are welcome, and take a daring leap now and then on your very own special dream horse.
Don’t tell the kids, but every day is a special day for Farents and Paculty. Where ever you are in your journey—
Happy Meachers/Tom’s Day to you!
A Poem: “You Have Grown Old With Me”
You Have Grown Old With Me
By Jane Tawel
April 9, 2016
This is a poem that is meant to be taken in several ways about several loved ones.
You have grown old like I,
With me–You have grown old.
We share a lot of memories.
Your cheeks don’t sag like mine,
Your bone structure is better;
But you have more grey hairs on your chin,
Until probably the next time I look in the mirror.
I need to remember to ask you more politely to have a seat,
Not just bark out “sit!”– but old habits die hard and
We have used familiar, familial short- hand for many, many years.
I remember the day I met you.
You were so chipper, so lively, so bright.
Now you sleep a lot and snore too– you know you do.
Your eating habits have changed, much like mine,
Bones might stick in our throats, if we don’t use care.
I wish your breath didn’t sound so scary,
I wish mine didn’t stink so much.
When we pass folk on the street, no one remarks our cuteness any more.
We might as well be invisible grey ghosts and someday,
God willing, we will walk as ghosts in this world,
But as we once were here,
We will scamper in The Next.
Maybe you’ll take the lead– Next Time.
It makes me so sad to look at you, but you sure don’t ask much from me.
But then I don’t recall that you ever have.
A little tenderness, a little touch, good food in a bowl and warmth snuggled at night–
What else is there to expect or treasure in life?
You had it all.
And always tried to teach me that I did too —
I had it all, if only I could give up the anxious worrisome Wants.
You take my love as you always have–
Open hearted, always a joy to meet again.
You are all of yourself still and forever,
Falling in love with me, and letting me love you
As if it were the very first time,
I saw you,
In the pound,
Your whole body waving frantically
Barking your greetings
Ready to walk through life with me.
We chose the best in each other, hoping to keep bringing it out.
Now, these things must remain: faith, hope and love
And you and I have had all three.
We will walk together as we always have
Into death
Into a life forever young.
I love you, my pet.
Thank you for loving me.
Jane Tawel 