Encouragement from Moldova

 

Middle Names and the “Father of Ohio”

 A new place

Poco a poco?

Seattle memories

 

Sixty years ago this month I was halfway through my sophomore year at Whitman College in Walla Walla, Washington. My experience at Whitman had been very positive--there was a local fellowship of Christians who were very good to me, I had made friends at the college, was enjoying most of my classes and having fun playing on the practice squad for the college basketball team.

However, by the end of the year I had decided to transfer to the University of Washington. My goal was an education that would open the door to a job in electrical engineering, which at Whitman meant majoring in physics. Unfortunately, in my sophomore year my physics professor was less than inspiring and that led to me exploring other options. A new friend in Walla Walla, who was planning to go to the UW, got me thinking about joining him, leading to the decision to transfer from Whitman.

Whitman College had less than 1000 students and was located in the wheat-growing country near the Blue Mountains in southeastern Washington. In 1961, the UW would have had about 25,000 students and was surrounded by water (Lake Washington, Lake Union and close to Puget Sound). To the west were the beautiful Olympic Mountains; to the east were the Cascade Mountains which were dominated by spectacular 14,000 foot high Mt. Rainier. 

The photo above is of Mt. Rainier from the UW's appropriately named Rainier Vista, the space between campus buildings aligned to offer an inspiring view of the mountain. Of course, Seattle is well-known for having lots of rain, which means there were many days when clouds blocked this view. But that just made the times when the sky was clear all the more special.

When I was at the UW, the building where I had an 8am physics class was on the left of Rainier Vista, so the photo above is a 21st century version of what I hoped to see when I was walking to that class. While the campus has changed since 1961, this inspirational view is still there (when the clouds aren't!) and just seeing the photo brings a taste of the joy I knew many years ago.

It was during this time that I learned that Helen Howarth Lemmel, the composer of one of my favorite hymns, spent her last years in Seattle, and died there in November 1961. She was known to some of my new Seattle friends and I enjoyed learning a bit about her history. The hymn is one I still value, even as I am a bit challenged by the lyrics:

Turn your eyes upon Jesus 

Look full in his wonderful face

And the things of earth will grow strangely dim

In the light of his glory and grace. 

Why am I challenged by the lyrics? Perhaps it is an age thing, that after experiencing how messy life can be, I can no longer simply accept language as I did when I was younger. For example, I question the phrase "the things of earth will grow strangely dim", but the question is more theological, related to how we think about the things of earth. 

But what about "turn your eyes upon Jesus"? In this case, the challenge for me is "how do I do this"? The words seem to reflect what is in Hebrews 12:2, which generally is translated "keep your eyes on Jesus" or something very similar. Since we can't physically see Jesus, this is obviously a metaphor. But what are practical things I can do to keep my eyes on Jesus? And right now, as one year ends and we transition to a new year, I've experienced a longing for specific guidance, a desire to have God help me take practical steps relevant to me to turn my eyes on Jesus.

Perhaps all the stuff happening this year--the pandemic, new troubles related to racial injustice, political tumult--has made this Advent season different. I am experiencing deeper feelings about what it means that the eternal, almighty God came into this world as a helpless baby born to an unmarried young woman in the boondocks. That, in the words of the apostle John, "the Word became flesh." 

So for me, at this time, I believe the words "turn your eyes upon Jesus" mean God wants me to take time to reflect on the incredible story of how he humbled himself and was born as a human being. 

The Word became flesh. For me, reflecting on these words has been a very practical way to turn my eyes upon Jesus. The eternal God, the one whose thoughts and ways are as far above mine as the heavens are above the earth, chose to be cooped up inside Mary's body, then left it to be dependent on the milk from her body to survive, to be circumcised, to live as a refugee, to go through whatever it was like for a poor child to grow up in Nazareth, and spend 30 years doing not much of anything that was what we normally call "ministry" (assuming there was only the one time in the temple astonishing the experts).  

And as I continue to reflect, and use my imagination (wisely, I trust!) to get some idea of what the Son of God experienced in his first 30 years  given the few details in Scripture, I'm experiencing the truth of God's love move from my head, where I intellectually accept it, down into my emotional center where I begin to actually feel it in ways new to me. 

And this is making a difference as I enter this new year!

And is it true

 

From a poem by John Betjeman (1906-1984): 

And is it true,

This most tremendous tale of all,

Seen in a stained-glass window's hue,

A Baby in an ox's stall ?

The Maker of the stars and sea

Become a Child on earth for me ?

 

And is it true ? For if it is,

No loving fingers tying strings

Around those tissued fripperies,

The sweet and silly Christmas things,

Bath salts and inexpensive scent

And hideous tie so kindly meant,

 

No love that in a family dwells,

No carolling in frosty air,

Nor all the steeple-shaking bells

Can with this single Truth compare —

That God was man in Palestine

And lives today in Bread and Wine.

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The photo is from our friend Vanea Vrabie, who was Ethan and Andrew's teacher when we lived in Moldova, and now lives in Colorado, where he gets to hike in the Rockies (photo was taken near Buffalo Bill's burial site). 

And can it be?

 

Charles Wesley was born today (December 18) in 1707. He reportedly wrote about 6,500 hymns! According to Wikipedia he began writing hymns when he was about 30 and he died at age 80. That is an average of 130 hymns per year, or one very 3 days.

"And Can It Be" is one of these hymns that is special to me:

And can it be that I should gain

An int’rest in the Savior’s blood?

Died He for me, who caused His pain—

For me, who Him to death pursued?

Amazing love! How can it be,

That Thou, my God, shouldst die for me?

Refrain:

Amazing love! How can it be,

That Thou, my God, shouldst die for me?

’Tis myst’ry all: th’ Immortal dies:

Who can explore His strange design?

In vain the firstborn seraph tries

To sound the depths of love divine.

’Tis mercy all! Let earth adore,

Let angel minds inquire no more.

He left His Father’s throne above—

So free, so infinite His grace—

Emptied Himself of all but love,

And bled for Adam’s helpless race:

’Tis mercy all, immense and free,

For, O my God, it found out me!

No condemnation now I dread;

Jesus, and all in Him, is mine;

Alive in Him, my living Head,

And clothed in righteousness divine,

Bold I approach th’ eternal throne,

And claim the crown, through Christ my own.