I Consider the Heavens

When I consider Your heavens, the work of Your fingers, the moon and the stars which You have ordained; what is man that You take thought of him, and the son of man that You care for him?...O LORD, our Lord, how majestic is Your name in all the earth.   Psalm 8:3-4,9

I can't help but marvel when on a dark night I stand on the driveway and look up at the stars. I can't help but marvel and praise our Lord who made the starry host. I can't help but marvel and feel ever so small in this wide world and vast universe.

The heavens are telling the glory of God; and their expanse is declaring the work of His hands. Day to day pours forth speech, and night to night reveals knowledge.  Psalm 19:1-2

 I marvel, but it is a half-witted amazement. When I look at the heavens I can only pick out Orion's belt. I rely on my eight year old, the budding astronomer, for information beyond those three stars in a row. I thought I knew Venus, but when we had an opportunity to look through a telescope, suddenly Venus had moons. Meaning, it wasn't Venus but Jupiter instead.

If I only knew the heavens, just a little bit, my wonder would multiply. Let's pretend that on a sultry May evening I looked up and could trace the outlines of Centaurus, joining even Ptolemy from the Second Century in seeing the centaur in the sky. As long as we're having such fun pretending, we'll pretend I can pick out individual stars within the constellation by their Greek names.  Naming off the Greek alphabet I come at last to Omega Centauri. Here is wonder, indeed!

As I stand on my driveway, head hung back, Omega Centauri appears to be one small star in the sky. But what causes me to marvel is that Omega Centauri is actually a Globular Star Cluster made up of something like 10 million stars. Simply traveling from one side of the star cluster to the other would take 230 light years. The density of stars within these star clusters is ten thousand times greater than the density of stars near the sun. If we lived within a star cluster, the sky would seem to have ten thousand more stars than it does when I stand on the driveway. One small "star," Omega Centauri, turns out to be millions, and is only one of hundreds of known star clusters. And all this is the work of God's fingers. He numbers the stars and calls them each by name; not the ones that twinkle on the driveway, but all the stars in the universe.

Our Lord calls us to know His joy. We run eagerly, thinking His joy is but one small light in the ink black sky. What if His joy is like a star cluster and once discovered there is joy ten thousand times greater? What if His delights number in the tens of millions and even some of those lead deeper into the unsearchable heart of God? What if the heavens are telling the glory of God? And He calls, "Come and enter into the joy of your Master."

You can see a Hubble photo of the Omega Centauri Star Cloud here.

His Work, My Safety

Ann at Holy Experience recently posted What's the Answer to Anxiety? in which she reminded me that John Calvin was no stranger to fear. As I have ever so slowly paged my way through his Institutes only one passage has left a distinct impression, the memory of a particular line.

Calvin was no stranger to fear. He knew real fears, this pastor who could write, "life is in a manner interwoven with death." But Calvin also knew something of imaginary fears, cords wrapped tight around the heart (or else he sat up late in bed, comforting his wife, taking notes).

Then, in what direction soever you turn, all surrounding objects not only may do harm, but almost openly threaten and seem to present immediate death.

Walk along the streets, every tile upon the roof is a source of danger.

Every turn, every tile. Rogue winds and pit bulls and wasp spray beside the bed for intruders. When I confide my secret fears to Bryan late at night, he laughs and holds me tight. As I recently read in C.S. Lewis, perhaps the lover most easily sees the absurd in us.  Imagine my relief when I discovered Calvin, the spiritual giant, had obviously given such careful thought to fear.

Of course, Calvin moved beyond fears to the relief and freedom we have in Christ. We are "confidently committed" to God and His providence. We can be set free from every care.

This, I say, is his comfort, that his heavenly Father so embraces all things under his power - so governs them at will by his nod - so regulates them by his wisdom, that nothing takes place save according to his appointment...

How comes it, I ask, that their confidence never fails, but just that while the world apparently revolves at random, they know that God is everywhere at work, and feel assured that his work will be their safety?

 "Give heed, " Calvin, the pastor, concludes the section. Give heed, my silly little heart, and see God everywhere at work. His work is my safety in a world that is anything but random. Look beyond the glowering skies and see the nod of the Lord who takes pleasure in His people (Psalm 149:4).

*All quotes are from Calvin's Institutes of the Christian Religion, Book First, Chapter 17, Sections 9 and 10.

Can Do, Can't Do

Arden built with Wedgits this morning while the older kids worked on their math lessons. His self-imposed goal was to complete each of the cards with photos of increasingly difficult structures. Of course, about two thirds of the way through a "meteor shower" struck and after that is was less about accomplishment than about destruction. That's okay. I don't expect him to have an attention span beyond that of any other six year old.

When a new card was turned over, while he contemplated his first action, he would whisper to himself, "Okay, I can do this. I can do this." Then I tested him. I would gently tease that the next card might be too hard. Brimming with confidence every time: "I can do it." I would have hedged. Maybe. Probably. This amazing, confident, self-assurance isn't something he learned from his mother.

I also have an amazingly, confident, ready-take-on-the-world friend. I'll call her Amy. Right down to her email address, her personality is 100 percent consistent. "Amycando." I laughed out loud when she sent the first email. If I were to do something similar mine would read,

"Briacantdo@mynewemailaddress.com"

I'm tempted to feel sorry for myself. I'm tempted to think thoughts about God creating a useless person, and choosing a useless Christian. But listening to Arden this morning I thought maybe God just made us different. Different the way an optimist and pessimist are different. Or a spender and a saver. Or someone who is goal-oriented and someone who is people oriented. Left-brain, right-brain. You know, it's who we are and God uses all types. What if some of us are can-do people and some of us are can't-do people? Not that we're actually incapable, just when faced with a new problem or challenging situation, we wilt. Anyone else like that out there?

And think how differently these two opposite people would read Philippians 4:13, "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me."

Thoughts on Discipline

I thought about discipline as I was scrubbing the toilet. One task I never choose for enjoyment, though I always appreciate the end product, it is an act of will to begin wiping the dirty sides. Once a week isn't often enough; in a house with children, a clean toilet requires consistency. Discipline.

But the discipline learned by cleaning the toilet has other uses as well. Bent over the toilet I thought about the military. They know a thing or two about discipline. Picture starched underwear. I don't think anyone, at heart, believes there is innate value to a pair of starched undies. Still they ask, how can a man who can't even fold his underwear expect to lead others? It seems a valid question.

This disciplined faithfulness bears fruit in any area requiring discipline. For the New Year I opted (as usual) against resolutions. I thought of goals and came up with a list of new endeavors. Then I stopped myself. What I need isn't an ever expanding to-do list. I need the self-discipline to do well all the things already asked of me. If I can't even keep a clean toilet I don't need to look for anything else to do, I need the foundational lesson. Discipline.

Lest I make the mistake of assuming this discipline applies only to cleaning toilets, or losing weight, or waking up in the morning, God brought this quote to my attention:

"It has been well said that the future is with the disciplined, and that quality has been placed first...for without it the other gifts, however great, will never realize their maximum potential. Only the disciplined person will rise to his highest powers. He is able to lead because he has conquered himself."  - J. Oswald Sanders

I tell myself: no cheap grace that falls back on a claim of God doing it all. I must rejoice in a sovereign who promises "unblameable holiness" by His Spirit and requires my utmost. My utmost amounts to feeble efforts, and half completed promises. He requires discipline that, while utterly reliant on Him, tries again and again and again and again. And again. I wait for Him to move, and my will to fall into place.

"But I discipline my body and make it my slave, lest possibly, after I have preached to others, I myself should be disqualified."                                I Corinthians 9:27

"...rejoicing to see your good discipline and the stability of your faith in Christ." Colossians 2:5

"On the other hand, discipline yourself for the purpose of godliness;"               I Timothy 4:7b

I'll be working on this until I have disciplined my body and made it my slave. That will be a very long time. So long, in fact, that I can't even type the words without a smile of irony on my face.

A Night of Words

I was like a little old lady this weekend. This was my confession when Bryan came home. Every night he was gone I walked the dog, steadied my steaming tea and walked upstairs to bed. It's not that I was tired. I intended to take full advantage of uninterrupted quiet.

I settled under the comforter with my books, my kindle, my knitting, my Bible study and my Bible circled around me. The next three hours were a kind of secret bliss.

When we used to watch TV in the evenings, three hours of reading in bed seemed like the dullest sort of self-discipline. While I knew it was good for me, and I always enjoyed a chapter or two before bed, a silent night of printed words asked too much of me. On those weekends when Bryan was gone, if I read one night, I rewarded myself with a movie the next. But now I have learned to love what I also know to be good.

In the quiet of the night, with a warm cup of tea, the book itself is my reward.

“It is pretty clear that the majority, if they spoke without passion and were fully articulate, would not accuse us of liking the wrong books, but of making such a fuss about any books at all.  We treat as a main ingredient in our well-being something which to them is marginal.  Hence to say simply that they like one thing and we another is to leave out nearly the whole of the facts.” C.S. Lewis

*I found this quote in George Grant's excellent post, A Literary Life.

Cheating (Kind Of)

I said I wouldn't start any other crafts until I finished the scarf. But I lied - kind of. This was a quick craft. In typical fashion I underestimated the actual time this would take (not ten minutes, if you're wondering). Still, paper, a hole punch, ribbon and stickers don't take long.

The banner is done, hanging in the front hall. The wall paper came with the house, and like it our not, it's not going anywhere. Over time I've come to grudgingly admire it...a little bit.

I'm making progress on that scarf. Little by little. Nose to the grindstone, and all that.

An Old Book by Lewis

I checked out an old copy of The Great Divorce from the college library here. I liked the surprise of turning to the back page and seeing the first due date: April 14, 1948. If the stamps don't lie, the book has only been checked out 14 times since then. Not one of the library's more popular titles. I'm sure it deserves more attention. I enjoyed the book for all the obvious reasons, it is authored by Lewis, but I don't like theological confusion. I'm confused enough. A literary imagining of the outskirts of heaven and philosophical speculation about time and choice leaves me uncomfortable. Still, I made note of several passages I liked. By all means read Lewis, but even more, the Word of God.

"...both good and evil, when they are full grown, become retrospective. Not only this valley but all this earthly past will have been Heaven to those who are saved. Not only the twilight in that town, but all their life on earth too, will be seen by the damned to have been Hell. That is what mortals misunderstand. They say of some temporal suffering, 'No future bliss can make up for it,' not knowing that Heaven, once attained, will work backwards and turn even that agony into a glory. And of some sinful pleasure they say 'Let me but have this and I'll take the consequences': little dreaming how damnation will spread back and back into their past and contaminate the pleasure of the sin. Both processes begin even before death."

C.S. Lewis, The Great Divorce