Station No. 8

Charles hung up the phone. The whole interaction with Rosa had taken only a minute or two, yet it gripped him strangely. He got to thinking about Rosa. Charles was still unsure whether or not he liked her. There was, though he was reluctant to admit it, something endearing about her. Yet, at the same time, there was something about her which made him uncomfortable. He still thought of her as maternal, and full of advice which he was certain was outdated by now. For that matter, he was not sure what she had to say would ever have been worthwhile counsel. All the same, he was intrigued by Rosa, and he couldn't resent her entirely.

So it is with a man like Charles; he was quick to judge others and justify it as realism and insight into people. He prided himself on his abilities, which, in the end, blinded him to the real value of other people and his own shortcomings. He was quick to admit he had faults, but he steadfastly held his ground regarding what he considered his intellectual advantages over others — especially someone such as Rosa.

Nevertheless, he was unable to put her off, and found Rosa’s words and actions had a way of lingering with him long after his interactions with her were over. It defied logic and reason, and increasingly, it began to bother him the way a pesky fly buzzes around one’s head. The friendship with Rosa, which was begun that day at tea, started for Charles as an amusement of sorts, but now the tables were turning and Charles could feel, but not explain, the shift.

His attempt to go back to his book of poetry was futile, and he began to get cross. It stuck with him for several hours providing a fitful and fruitless night of sleep. Sometime just before dawn he finally surrendered, exhausted.

Two of the greatest words in all of scripture are but God.

One of the places this shows up is Rom. 5:8 where we read: But God demonstrates His own love toward us in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.

While the literal phrase but God is not used in Titus 3:4, we read a great contrast in the phrase: But when the kindness and love of God our Savior appeared. . . The point is the same.

God is in the practice of reversing the great evils and wounds of our lives, and He shows Himself to be the true lover of our souls in so doing. In a sense, this is pictured for us in the Crucifixion on Good Friday and then the Resurrection on Easter. Friday looked bleak, was tragic; it seemed a victory for the Enemy _ but God had the Final Word on Sunday and it changed everything.

Station No. 7

The summer had been good to Charles; he played outdoors with his kids, drank every bit of sunshine he could to improve his mood and found the poetry of Chin li to be soothing. While he was able to distract his thoughts with either play or work, there was always a nagging sense in his heart that such activity or enjoyment was tainted and less than all it should have been.

Nevertheless, the coping was improving, and he had managed to escape the dark cloud of mourning on many occassions. One such time was an autumn weekend when he sent the kids to his parents house. Charles noticed on the Friday night that Rosa’s light was on, and with her window ajar, Charles could hear strains of Vivaldi’s Four Seasons. It seemed appropriate to Charles that Rosa would play such music as the season was in full swing. The colors exploded from the trees and lay all around on the ground; one last hurrah before a long winter of barrenness. Charles always thought it peculiar that such a brilliant display was in fact death. Certainly, there was seasonally always the promise of new life in the spring. Charles thought about his wife and wondered about promise.

The phone rang, it was Rosa. When Charles heard her voice, he froze, realizing he had not actually spoken with her since that awkward night on his porch. Rosa, though dull-witted in some ways, was always aware when it came to personal interactions with others — whether she knew the person well or had just made the acquaintence.

“I’m sorry, dear, didn’t mean to startle you,” Rosa said. “I’ll call back another time.” Rosa was quick to defer knowing the sensitive nature of her last conversation with Charles.

“No,” he stammered. “I’m, I’m fine.” A long pause followed indicating quite clearly he was not “fine.” But Rosa decided to take him at his word, which she probably would not have done had her question been more serious in nature. Rather, all she needed was help with her crossword. She was looking for a five-letter word for “nothing.”

Charles, who had been reading more of Chin li when the phone rang, was caught short. The poetry of Chin li was full of all sorts of thoughts and images; trying to think of “nothing,” was completely opposite of Charles had been doing for the last hour.

“I’m sorry, Rosa,” Charles apologized, seeming to have gained some composure. “I’m drawing a blank.”

Deep Down

Got this thorn in my side.
Got this thorn in my side.
Got this thorn in my side, and baby it don't hide.

Stabs me everywhere,
'Cos baby it don't care.
Like a dagger from Hell it stabs me everywhere.

Heard a voice in the dark
Trying to light my spark.
Whisper to a scream it's moving in on my heart.

Deep Down
Deep Down
i need you Deep Down.

Temperature's risin' in here.
Temperature's risin' in here.
Temperature's risin' in here and i' ve got plenty to fear.

i'd invite you on up,
We could sit down an sup;
But there's a hole in this empty cup.

Deep Down
Deep Down
i need you Deep Down.

Tradin' in these old clothes.
Got to get me some of those.
Dress me up and give me some place to go.

Deep Down
Deep Down
i need you Deep Down.

Genius?

Perhaps the paradoxical relationship between genius and eccentricity will always confound me, but but i am perplexed by the way language gets diluted to the point that soon everybody who has ever done aything creative will be considered a genius. The same can be said for the liberal use of the word classic. Now, even Coke is "classic," despite the fact it is mass produced all over the world.

All these thoughts rise after watching a special last night on PBS about architect Frank Lloyd Wright. Wright may have been a true architectural genius, i cannot say since i have little to no training in that field, but the way the term genius was thrown about in the program, it started to lose meaning.

Eccentric? Yes. Wright was a bizarre character. He abandoned his family and justified every whim by explaining to the world that he was above ordinary people; he made his own rules, as they say.

As for his designs, some are appealing to me, others quite the opposite. Still i wonder if in our age we are quick to accept or justify behavior under the guise of genius.

Romans 12:1-2:

Therefore, I urge you, brothers, in view of God's mercy, to offer your bodies as living sacrifices, holy and pleasing to God--this is your spiritual[1] act of worship. 2Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God's will is--his good, pleasing and perfect will.

i wonder what it would look like to see someone or be someone who is truly shaped by these verses; a person abandoned to God. There is a totality in the phrase: offer your bodies as living sacrifices, which i doubt i have experienced for more than a brief moment. Verse 2 is a huge call to swim against the tide, but it is our only hope for true freedom. Otherwise we are left with the petty cravings, the constant lack of contentment and the feeble-mindedness of the world.

All of us _ our bodies and our minds _ need the New Covenant with Jesus. Fortunately, He gives freely.

Psalm 22 is known as the Psalm of the Cross, and in it we find a powerful description of what Jesus suffered. Ultimately, it falls short of full gravity and gives us still just a glimpse into what was happening there. Nevertheless, it is able to get to our hearts _ which is what He is after in all of us.

When Jesus quotes the opening lines of this psalm, it is intended to alert those in his presence at the time of the crucifixion that something much larger than it appeared was in fact happening.

Thankfully, Jesus quotes the psalm in the barren pain of the moment to all who are in attendance, signalling that the Cross is for all of us, not a religious or cultural elite.

As the saying goes: The ground is level at the foot of the Cross. And so, in a shifting and skewed world, that level patch of earth is the only place to stand with any sense of assurance.