It rained all day. The drive up seemed like it took forever. As I got closer I felt more and more nervous. I can’t explain it, it just felt like I was entering into another world. As I drove onto the grounds I was sure that I had entered a foreign country. The landscape is dominated by this large sandstone fortress, part of which is discernable as a church (more like a cathedral). From one of the corners a tall bell tower shoots up. Crosses and symbols are everywhere, etched in the stone work of buildings and custom shaped into the landscaping. It feels like this must be a sacred place, everything is designed for it to be. Everything in my mind tells me that thought isn’t true, I know that God doesn’t dwell in houses made of stone and that He presence is just as real in my house as it is at the Abbey. Yet here is all this imagery. Crosses and Statues everywhere. Places set aside to pray and listen to the Lord. Knowing that I don’t need to be bowed before a crucifix to have my prayers heard by God, I still kind of like seeing them around. I pass 4 statues of St. Benedict, 2 Jesus, a St. Francis and a Mary on my way from the truck to the front door of the retreat house. Inside the lobby door of the Coury House there is a life size St. Benedict holding a shepherd’s staff and a broken goblet. On the other wall is a picture of Mary and the Christ Child, asking people to pray for AIDS victims worldwide. There is another crucifix complete with corpus (That’s a catholic way of saying the body of Jesus hanging on the cross) on my left. And on the right a mosaic of a flaming dove coming from heaven to touch the earth. There is no doubt what kind of facility this is. Its imagery gives it away. This is a place that reverences and honors the Triune God as the supreme king over everything. I can tell right away that these people are serious about God. I like that. I am going to like it here.
Thursday, November 11, 2004
Entering the Abbey
It rained all day. The drive up seemed like it took forever. As I got closer I felt more and more nervous. I can’t explain it, it just felt like I was entering into another world. As I drove onto the grounds I was sure that I had entered a foreign country. The landscape is dominated by this large sandstone fortress, part of which is discernable as a church (more like a cathedral). From one of the corners a tall bell tower shoots up. Crosses and symbols are everywhere, etched in the stone work of buildings and custom shaped into the landscaping. It feels like this must be a sacred place, everything is designed for it to be. Everything in my mind tells me that thought isn’t true, I know that God doesn’t dwell in houses made of stone and that He presence is just as real in my house as it is at the Abbey. Yet here is all this imagery. Crosses and Statues everywhere. Places set aside to pray and listen to the Lord. Knowing that I don’t need to be bowed before a crucifix to have my prayers heard by God, I still kind of like seeing them around. I pass 4 statues of St. Benedict, 2 Jesus, a St. Francis and a Mary on my way from the truck to the front door of the retreat house. Inside the lobby door of the Coury House there is a life size St. Benedict holding a shepherd’s staff and a broken goblet. On the other wall is a picture of Mary and the Christ Child, asking people to pray for AIDS victims worldwide. There is another crucifix complete with corpus (That’s a catholic way of saying the body of Jesus hanging on the cross) on my left. And on the right a mosaic of a flaming dove coming from heaven to touch the earth. There is no doubt what kind of facility this is. Its imagery gives it away. This is a place that reverences and honors the Triune God as the supreme king over everything. I can tell right away that these people are serious about God. I like that. I am going to like it here.
It rained all day. The drive up seemed like it took forever. As I got closer I felt more and more nervous. I can’t explain it, it just felt like I was entering into another world. As I drove onto the grounds I was sure that I had entered a foreign country. The landscape is dominated by this large sandstone fortress, part of which is discernable as a church (more like a cathedral). From one of the corners a tall bell tower shoots up. Crosses and symbols are everywhere, etched in the stone work of buildings and custom shaped into the landscaping. It feels like this must be a sacred place, everything is designed for it to be. Everything in my mind tells me that thought isn’t true, I know that God doesn’t dwell in houses made of stone and that He presence is just as real in my house as it is at the Abbey. Yet here is all this imagery. Crosses and Statues everywhere. Places set aside to pray and listen to the Lord. Knowing that I don’t need to be bowed before a crucifix to have my prayers heard by God, I still kind of like seeing them around. I pass 4 statues of St. Benedict, 2 Jesus, a St. Francis and a Mary on my way from the truck to the front door of the retreat house. Inside the lobby door of the Coury House there is a life size St. Benedict holding a shepherd’s staff and a broken goblet. On the other wall is a picture of Mary and the Christ Child, asking people to pray for AIDS victims worldwide. There is another crucifix complete with corpus (That’s a catholic way of saying the body of Jesus hanging on the cross) on my left. And on the right a mosaic of a flaming dove coming from heaven to touch the earth. There is no doubt what kind of facility this is. Its imagery gives it away. This is a place that reverences and honors the Triune God as the supreme king over everything. I can tell right away that these people are serious about God. I like that. I am going to like it here.
Tuesday, November 09, 2004
Why is St. Benedict giving me the creeps?
The granite St. Benedict that I am staring at high up on the front exterior wall of this humble but no less magnificent cathedral is 90% impressive and 10% creepy. Impressive is his commanding presence. He is sharply chiseled. He looks to be a serious man, maybe even fierce, yet calm and at peace. Whether it’s from what I have read about St. Benedict or not, He seems to be welcoming me. Almost as if this whole idea of Benedictine hospitality is for me, for this moment.
The creepy part is a bit harder to explain. At the churches where I grew up, the only bits of sacred artistic imagery were the simple cross crudely routered into the wooden pulpit that stood at the front of the rows of wooden pews, and the grassy green riverside oil painting that hung behind the baptismal. There were also some line drawings of doves and crosses on our literature, but nothing to betray the vastness of sacred art that existed outside of our religious tradition. Even further than not being accustomed to statues and sacred art, much of my formal religious indoctrination taught me that saints, rosaries, religious celebrations, and anything to do with Mary the Mother of Jesus were, depending on who was doing the talking, misguided, unfortunate or downright demonic. As more and more places of worship are looking like a meeting room at a hotel, it seems weird that I am drawn to the places that are old, anti-modern, almost cluttered with icons and imagery. And it’s not like I am creeped out like when you walk through a wax museum and you fear that a statue is going to spring to life and grab you. It’s more just a question in the back of your mind saying, “Are you sure that a statue or an icon or a person other than Jesus could have anything to add to my experience with God?”
I think I know the answer to that question. The life of St. Francis has made a large impact on me. The way I view my life and serving Jesus has radically been alter by the life of the ‘little brother’. Each time I see a garden statue of Francis with a bird lighting on his arm, I don’t fall down and worship it. Instead I think about the life that He led, and think, “If I was more like that, I would be more like Jesus.” Which is, of course, what I am trying to do.
The granite St. Benedict that I am staring at high up on the front exterior wall of this humble but no less magnificent cathedral is 90% impressive and 10% creepy. Impressive is his commanding presence. He is sharply chiseled. He looks to be a serious man, maybe even fierce, yet calm and at peace. Whether it’s from what I have read about St. Benedict or not, He seems to be welcoming me. Almost as if this whole idea of Benedictine hospitality is for me, for this moment.
The creepy part is a bit harder to explain. At the churches where I grew up, the only bits of sacred artistic imagery were the simple cross crudely routered into the wooden pulpit that stood at the front of the rows of wooden pews, and the grassy green riverside oil painting that hung behind the baptismal. There were also some line drawings of doves and crosses on our literature, but nothing to betray the vastness of sacred art that existed outside of our religious tradition. Even further than not being accustomed to statues and sacred art, much of my formal religious indoctrination taught me that saints, rosaries, religious celebrations, and anything to do with Mary the Mother of Jesus were, depending on who was doing the talking, misguided, unfortunate or downright demonic. As more and more places of worship are looking like a meeting room at a hotel, it seems weird that I am drawn to the places that are old, anti-modern, almost cluttered with icons and imagery. And it’s not like I am creeped out like when you walk through a wax museum and you fear that a statue is going to spring to life and grab you. It’s more just a question in the back of your mind saying, “Are you sure that a statue or an icon or a person other than Jesus could have anything to add to my experience with God?”
I think I know the answer to that question. The life of St. Francis has made a large impact on me. The way I view my life and serving Jesus has radically been alter by the life of the ‘little brother’. Each time I see a garden statue of Francis with a bird lighting on his arm, I don’t fall down and worship it. Instead I think about the life that He led, and think, “If I was more like that, I would be more like Jesus.” Which is, of course, what I am trying to do.
Monday, November 08, 2004
Why Subiaco?
A few years ago, I read a series of books that started me on a journey. Today, as I stand in front of a 20 foot tall statue mounted over the imposing doors to Saint Benedict’s Abbey Church at the Subiaco Abbey, I feel that I must be heading into a memorable part of the ride.
Kathleen Norris’ book, The Cloister Walk really rang a bell in me when I read it a few years ago. Basically, it tells the story (through journal entries) of a protestant woman who is tired at life and completely broken down with religion, finding personal relationship with God through the love and hospitality of the Benedictine Monastic tradition. Norris’ book emphasized some recurring themes in my life at that point, mainly humility, contentment, and quiet contemplation. The chapter on celibate passion especially challenged the way I viewed my relationship with the Father. Probably the most lasting effect of the book in my life was the introduction of the Liturgy of the Hours, or the Divine Office.
I learned that Benedictine Monks prayed 7 times a day from a liturgy that involved reading the scriptures, and praying the psalms. These prayers weren’t long drawn out services, but moments of pause in the rhythm of the day. The monks prayed these prayers individually and in community and always coupled with times of silence and meditation. I bought a copy of the Liturgy of the Hours called Christian Prayer and with no formal instruction began in some small way to pray like the Benedictine monks.
For a while I followed the schedule with a watch. I set alarms to remind myself of my appointments with God. I thoroughly enjoyed praying the scriptures. Although reading prayers did not keep me from adding my own personal thoughts, I found that the written prayers and especially the psalms guided my thoughts and helped me pray in the right direction. To me, the pause from activity helped keep me calm. Even if just for 5 minutes in the middle of the afternoon, I felt somehow at peace.
Along the same time, Jennifer was pregnant with Zoe, our 4th. Many complications and lots of doctor’s visits found me relying on prayer times to make it through. I will never forget the night that Zoe was born. We had been involved in a 2 day ordeal that ended in Jennifer being induced. The evening was spent in stress, as Jennifer began to have contractions, and the doctors and nurses worried about our baby’s heart rate and brainwaves. It all came to point around midnight, when it seemed that our baby, yet unborn, might be dying. They rushed Jennifer out to perform an emergency C-section. I was abruptly told that I could not come with them, and was left in the room with Jennifer’s mom, Judy.
We began again to pray, as we had been all night. I picked up my prayer book. As I paced nervously around the room, I prayed:
Out of the depth I cry to you, O Lord
Lord, hear my voice!
O let your ears be attentive
To the voice of my pleadings. (Psalm 130)
I told the Lord that I was afraid, that I feared for the life of my wife and for the life of our baby. I cried and my heart raced.
It would make a great story to tell you that everything slowed down, and all became immediately calm, but it wasn’t just like that. It was more subtle, but nonetheless very real to me. In that 15-20 minutes while we paced around the hospital room, I was more aware than ever before in my life that God was hearing my prayer. I didn’t know how He was going to answer, or what the next word that I would hear from the doctors would be, I just felt so sure that God was being very attentive to our prayers.
Almost daily as I pray I hear the voice of God speaking to me. Although it seems sort of strange, I have found a sense on stability and reality in observing the hours. I haven’t always been completely diligent. I don’t pray every office right out of the book, right on time, but it has helped me make prayer a larger part of my life.
It was this introduction in the Benedictine spirituality that has led me to research and learn more about the Benedictine rule and the monk way of life. When the opportunity came up for me to go and have a sabbatical/work week, I immediately thought of going to a monastery, basically to watch, learn firsthand about their way of life, and listen to God in that type of environment. Subiaco Abbey, near Paris, Arkansas was closest and had quite a rich history. When I first made contact with the Abbey, they informed me that they had facilities for accommodating people like me who would like to visit and spend sometime in quiet. I was excited and just a little apprehensive. So that is what brings me here. What might happen this week, only God knows.
A few years ago, I read a series of books that started me on a journey. Today, as I stand in front of a 20 foot tall statue mounted over the imposing doors to Saint Benedict’s Abbey Church at the Subiaco Abbey, I feel that I must be heading into a memorable part of the ride.
Kathleen Norris’ book, The Cloister Walk really rang a bell in me when I read it a few years ago. Basically, it tells the story (through journal entries) of a protestant woman who is tired at life and completely broken down with religion, finding personal relationship with God through the love and hospitality of the Benedictine Monastic tradition. Norris’ book emphasized some recurring themes in my life at that point, mainly humility, contentment, and quiet contemplation. The chapter on celibate passion especially challenged the way I viewed my relationship with the Father. Probably the most lasting effect of the book in my life was the introduction of the Liturgy of the Hours, or the Divine Office.
I learned that Benedictine Monks prayed 7 times a day from a liturgy that involved reading the scriptures, and praying the psalms. These prayers weren’t long drawn out services, but moments of pause in the rhythm of the day. The monks prayed these prayers individually and in community and always coupled with times of silence and meditation. I bought a copy of the Liturgy of the Hours called Christian Prayer and with no formal instruction began in some small way to pray like the Benedictine monks.
For a while I followed the schedule with a watch. I set alarms to remind myself of my appointments with God. I thoroughly enjoyed praying the scriptures. Although reading prayers did not keep me from adding my own personal thoughts, I found that the written prayers and especially the psalms guided my thoughts and helped me pray in the right direction. To me, the pause from activity helped keep me calm. Even if just for 5 minutes in the middle of the afternoon, I felt somehow at peace.
Along the same time, Jennifer was pregnant with Zoe, our 4th. Many complications and lots of doctor’s visits found me relying on prayer times to make it through. I will never forget the night that Zoe was born. We had been involved in a 2 day ordeal that ended in Jennifer being induced. The evening was spent in stress, as Jennifer began to have contractions, and the doctors and nurses worried about our baby’s heart rate and brainwaves. It all came to point around midnight, when it seemed that our baby, yet unborn, might be dying. They rushed Jennifer out to perform an emergency C-section. I was abruptly told that I could not come with them, and was left in the room with Jennifer’s mom, Judy.
We began again to pray, as we had been all night. I picked up my prayer book. As I paced nervously around the room, I prayed:
Out of the depth I cry to you, O Lord
Lord, hear my voice!
O let your ears be attentive
To the voice of my pleadings. (Psalm 130)
I told the Lord that I was afraid, that I feared for the life of my wife and for the life of our baby. I cried and my heart raced.
It would make a great story to tell you that everything slowed down, and all became immediately calm, but it wasn’t just like that. It was more subtle, but nonetheless very real to me. In that 15-20 minutes while we paced around the hospital room, I was more aware than ever before in my life that God was hearing my prayer. I didn’t know how He was going to answer, or what the next word that I would hear from the doctors would be, I just felt so sure that God was being very attentive to our prayers.
Almost daily as I pray I hear the voice of God speaking to me. Although it seems sort of strange, I have found a sense on stability and reality in observing the hours. I haven’t always been completely diligent. I don’t pray every office right out of the book, right on time, but it has helped me make prayer a larger part of my life.
It was this introduction in the Benedictine spirituality that has led me to research and learn more about the Benedictine rule and the monk way of life. When the opportunity came up for me to go and have a sabbatical/work week, I immediately thought of going to a monastery, basically to watch, learn firsthand about their way of life, and listen to God in that type of environment. Subiaco Abbey, near Paris, Arkansas was closest and had quite a rich history. When I first made contact with the Abbey, they informed me that they had facilities for accommodating people like me who would like to visit and spend sometime in quiet. I was excited and just a little apprehensive. So that is what brings me here. What might happen this week, only God knows.
Wednesday, October 27, 2004
Changing of the Colors Rally
This past week has been incredible in a number of ways. Incredibly rewarding and incredibly demanding. Jennifer and I had about 12 days of early morning, all day, and late night responsibilities. The great thing is that we used that time to make relationships with a large number of students and potential leaders for the future. We had a large number of kids that we prayed with. We are always floored by the issues that young people are dealing with. It was very obvious to us that God was working in the lives of teenagers in a real way. And that is why we do this.
The worship band from our church's youth group helped out and provided some great atmosphere, and Jacob's Ladder from here in Arkansas put on a great show Saturday night. Here are a few pics.
This past week has been incredible in a number of ways. Incredibly rewarding and incredibly demanding. Jennifer and I had about 12 days of early morning, all day, and late night responsibilities. The great thing is that we used that time to make relationships with a large number of students and potential leaders for the future. We had a large number of kids that we prayed with. We are always floored by the issues that young people are dealing with. It was very obvious to us that God was working in the lives of teenagers in a real way. And that is why we do this.
The worship band from our church's youth group helped out and provided some great atmosphere, and Jacob's Ladder from here in Arkansas put on a great show Saturday night. Here are a few pics.
Wednesday, October 13, 2004
Sometimes you just like to rock
Saw Staple the other night. One word...serious. Check out their site. They rock hard.
Also along the musical note these three worship albums are great. We are especially busy trying to steal Crowder's stuff.
Facedown - Matt Redman, Ten Thousand Charms - Robbie Seay, and Illuminate - David Crowder Band. You might want to check out Ecclesia Houston's site also. Robbie Seay's brother Chris is the pastor.
And now on to my favorite CD of the month. Without a doubt...GC. Listen for yourself. These guys are so honest, it hurts to listen to it. And while it may be dark at times, this album is saturated with hope. Anytime you honestly talk about the 'culture of death' (borrowing a phrase from the Pope) it is going to be kind of disturbing. Yet Good Charlotte manages to point out that life and light can sometimes punch a hole in the darkness. Even if you don't like punk or pop/punk or whatever label you want to put on Good Charlotte, you should give this one a listen just to hear the song that is being sung by the hearts of alot of teens in America. It may not be high art, but it is real.
Saw Staple the other night. One word...serious. Check out their site. They rock hard.
Also along the musical note these three worship albums are great. We are especially busy trying to steal Crowder's stuff.
Facedown - Matt Redman, Ten Thousand Charms - Robbie Seay, and Illuminate - David Crowder Band. You might want to check out Ecclesia Houston's site also. Robbie Seay's brother Chris is the pastor.
And now on to my favorite CD of the month. Without a doubt...GC. Listen for yourself. These guys are so honest, it hurts to listen to it. And while it may be dark at times, this album is saturated with hope. Anytime you honestly talk about the 'culture of death' (borrowing a phrase from the Pope) it is going to be kind of disturbing. Yet Good Charlotte manages to point out that life and light can sometimes punch a hole in the darkness. Even if you don't like punk or pop/punk or whatever label you want to put on Good Charlotte, you should give this one a listen just to hear the song that is being sung by the hearts of alot of teens in America. It may not be high art, but it is real.
A Very Fun Week
Once again, Jen and I count our blessings. We have had the greatest few days this last week. We have just got back from National Youth Workers Convention put on by Youth Specialties in Dallas.
While we can go anywhere and have a great time, it helped that we were staying in the Adam's Mark in Downtown Dallas. We got a chance to eat at a few of our favorites including Dickies Barbeque and the absolutely most crowded On the Border I have ever seen in my lifetime. (OU and Texas Weekend in Dallas).
We spent a long time listening to Rob Bell, teaching pastor of Mars Hill in Michigan. All I can say is, "...dude." We also wildly enjoyed The David Crowder Band. We learned a lot of new things and tried real hard to listen for the voice of God in all the noise.
We also got some new CD's and Videos, watched some movies, and read a few books. All of which I will attempt to blog in the next few days.
Best thing that shook out of the entire week, was the time that I got to spend with Jen. One day we spent the entire afternoon in one store, just talking. After it was over, I said, "I can't believe that we have been talking and discussing stuff that long...It didn't seem like twenty minutes." To sum it up. She's wonderful.
Once again, Jen and I count our blessings. We have had the greatest few days this last week. We have just got back from National Youth Workers Convention put on by Youth Specialties in Dallas.
While we can go anywhere and have a great time, it helped that we were staying in the Adam's Mark in Downtown Dallas. We got a chance to eat at a few of our favorites including Dickies Barbeque and the absolutely most crowded On the Border I have ever seen in my lifetime. (OU and Texas Weekend in Dallas).
We spent a long time listening to Rob Bell, teaching pastor of Mars Hill in Michigan. All I can say is, "...dude." We also wildly enjoyed The David Crowder Band. We learned a lot of new things and tried real hard to listen for the voice of God in all the noise.
We also got some new CD's and Videos, watched some movies, and read a few books. All of which I will attempt to blog in the next few days.
Best thing that shook out of the entire week, was the time that I got to spend with Jen. One day we spent the entire afternoon in one store, just talking. After it was over, I said, "I can't believe that we have been talking and discussing stuff that long...It didn't seem like twenty minutes." To sum it up. She's wonderful.
Monday, September 27, 2004
Some days you just wake up with so many things on your mind. Things you have to do, people you need to call, work that has to be caught up. When you feel that God has given you a task to do, it sometimes weighs on you even heavier. I'm not ashamed to admit that sometimes I feel a little afraid. That I can't cut the mustard or that I'll never get the job done.
But then these come along.
Joby, my son, drew these. He never showed them to me, I just stumbled across them laying around. This is the smiling savior that I know. And in 3rd grader print, he is saying what I needed to hear. Very cool.
But then these come along.
Joby, my son, drew these. He never showed them to me, I just stumbled across them laying around. This is the smiling savior that I know. And in 3rd grader print, he is saying what I needed to hear. Very cool.
Thursday, September 23, 2004
Tuesday, June 29, 2004
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