Blogging a Christian Message, concludes

Then, as you might imagine, when I received Pat’s e-mail asking me about the possibility of using the first stanza and chorus of mom’s hymn as your Choral Introit here at Louisa Christian Church for your worship services, I was thrilled for mom and everyone who worked so hard to put together that special sing-along for Mom. And, certainly I continue to be thrilled over the lyrics being activated again; and I don’t think I have ever heard it sung more beautifully than we all heard it today.

I think mom was listening too. And I think another lesson from Matthew 18 is evidenced in this next step for mom’s hymn. For who would have thought that the years of silence from this little hymn, since mom’s death would now be graced with new life, a new relationship and hopefully new meaning for you and others? Thanks be to God.

Now, as we prepare to conclude this service today, might we carry with us the realization of the relationships Jesus was talking about in Matthew 18? Remember the child’s humble spirit is the highest rank in the kingdom of heaven. Might we be reminded too that every time we acknowledge our faith in Jesus’ name and respond (even silently) to other Christians in a group, we launch that powerful “togetherness in his name” relationship with Jesus in our midst? Think about JOY there.

Remember when the early Christians did that? Standing among groups in town, some of them would get a stick and doodle in the sand. Then, one by one some of them would draw a fish in the sand? You’ve seen the Christian fish on the bumpers of cars, and in Christian literature? Ever wonder what that symbol means? That fish in the sand drawing was their secret signal to other Christians in the crowd, “I am a believer.” Others in the crowd including Roman spies did not know the meaning of the fish drawing. Now, you know what happens when two or three of them are gathered together, and they draw that fish in the sand? JOY.

Now, we can do that too. We can acknowledge this – even in a grocery store… just by recognizing a couple of other Christians across the aisle – maybe members of this church and we beam our faith to them through a smile and maybe a simple nod…our symbol – acknowledging, “Yes, I am a believer too, and I love the Lord.” Then, even before we can send out a prayer invitation for the Lord to join us – he’s already there in our midst. We can LIVE his presence by example among others… as we,

Celebrate His presence here now;

See that smile across my face.

Yes the grin is deep from within,

flowing from His loving Grace.

Celebrating His presence – can be done among us without saying a word, can’t it? I love that little reference you have on your church website which says, “Preach the Gospel at all times…and when necessary,
use words.”

Wellsprings

"You and I have been offered an unique observation point." So begins "Wellsprings," a brief essay from my book, Thin Places and Five Clues. Wellsprings was mentioned by a recent reader as being particularly noteworthy for him. It is included in this blog post as a metaphorical plea for us to work together for local, regional, national and world peace.

Wellsprings

"You and I have been offered an unique observation point. From it we can see groups of people gathered around dozens of hand-dug wells, peering down the open excavations, straining to get a glimpse of the Great Overflow Dynamic, as it is called. It is known as the river of life. Deep below -- running through all of the wells and connecting each invisibly with a dynamic energy, the juncture of which is usually missed by the excavators above.

Each of the well sites has a sign designating its claim to the Dynamic. Some hold the sign high, proudly exclaiming the superior location of its site and thus the best access. Others use their sign as a shovel to scrape away the loose soil from around the opening. Others use the sign only to confirm their location.

We observe fights breaking out at some of the sites, people pushing and shoving each other, throwing stones towards other well sites which are believed inferior and a threat to the source Dynamic. Others strain to get into a better position near the deep void, to peer below - often loosening the soil and causing clumps and rocks to fall into the well -- splashing into the pure water below, and enraging the crowds into accusations and disciplines.

But, the pollution, as they shout at each other, is not realized to extend to all of the wells since they are all served by the same great source. Those at adjoining wells look over in disdain while lulling in comfort about the purity of their well. While the splashes of debris are not recognized as a temporary and natural process the river uses in its own dynamics.

There is an endless array of sites stretching out beyond us, some with large groups, some with just a few huddled together peering down into the shaft. Some with one person. Some sites are vacant...perhaps abandoned. And, some which apparently are only drawn to the crowds are clustered around dirt only. No well. Just a staked claim, in dirt, for they see only holes at the other sites and not the source below. They see only dirt and empty holes. Yet the Great Overflow Dynamic energy still mingles below.

Murmurings abound, mostly honoring access points to the Great Overflow Dynamic. It has become symbolized among those gathered. Some refer to it as G.O.D. Others as simply GOD. Others portray it as the Great Spirit. The site signs are raised high in celebration as the groups cheer around some internal signal. One sign reads Jewish. Another Presbyterian. Independent Thinker. Buddhist. Islam. And on and on.

Yet, we can sense from our observation point that each expression is veritably sacred at its core. Not because of the fashion of their apertures in the earth. Nor because of their signs nor their proclamations, which often are against each other. Their loving sacredness emanates from each, in their own way, craving to tap the fringes, the hemline, the small bits of seemingly imperceptible and imponderable vapors of the Great Dynamic through their own crude wells. Our own wells. Pinholes in the vast infinite cosmic sea of GOD."

Copyright (c) 2009 C. Page Highfill, all rights reserved

Through the Gate

The other day I received an e-mail from Don, a college classmate of mine who had just finished reading my book on Thin Places. He had some good comments including the mention that his wife had obtained six additional copies of the book to give to friends. Wow! Thanks. But it was his ending p.s. which really caught my attention. I have always admired Don's special talents. Even our professors saw that specialness, and so often gave him a better grade on communicating certain projects than the rest of us. Maybe we still got better grades than we deserved. But my friend Don always spoke with that certain authority of genuineness that is in itself a source of learning for the rest of us. He still does.

At the end of his comments, he noted two pieces of my writing in the book which really jumped out at him. One was a summary I had made of a poem I had written and included in the book describing my Thin Place experience at Kingsmill, Virginia, a stone's throw from where this Country was born. The other piece was an essay I included at the end of the book entitled "Wellsprings."

His thoughts have become an outline for this and the next blog post here. Below is the poem, then the summary, both from my book, "Thin Places and Five Clues in Their Architecture." My next post here will be "Wellsprings." Thanks Don.

Stale leaves crackled

against the rusty old gate

hung heavy on thick hinges

spiked deep in stubborn piers

near Jamestown, Virginia

hushed in off-season quiet

under a November dawn.

Its iron bars still gate tough,

with rods and hard welds

fixed like an opaque now, while

sensual spaces between bars

pave transparent avenues,

where dreams and time flirt

with the mooring river beyond,

among whispering ruffles, which

tickle tree roots along the shore.

And there, mingled in the mist

guarding its river secrets,

stands the veiled outline of a sailor

silhouetted below the yellow sky

staring across the river slick

at a small ship anchored in the fog

freighted with a handful of seeds,

navigated by gauges of passion,

fueled by winds yet forgotten.

He then leaned to the craft,

hollowed hands at his mouth

and megaphoned a discovery

out to tuned ears on board,

while I stood there mute, peering

through the gate's cold grid,

stretching against today's bind.

"Bring the others!" He shouted

joyfully in English tone with

unquestionable authority,

lofted out at the shadowing ship,

berthed just off shore, and

a few hundred years away.

"And the tools,"

he hollered again, loudly,

bellowing - "This is the place!”

And so it was, soon to be,

when a grandson, now long dead

might have built this 2-way gate,

to divide and separate,

yet open a glimpse of history,

this place to birth a destiny

right here -- through the gate.

We are all a part of a gate to potential Thin Places for others, aren't we?  Thus, we encourage others to look not "at" us for all they will see is rust, broken pieces, bent hinges and other examples of the opaque now.  We hope instead that we may inspire others to see the spaces between the bars, the moments when a light shines through us, to illuminate the transparency of the Cosmic Truth, and His fingerprints all around and through us.

Copyright (C) C. Page Highfill, all rights reserved 

Haiti -- Faces on the Street

You can see it written across the faces on the street.

Just as some must have seen hundreds of years ago,

when kidnapping Africans flourished – when ripping

souls from wailing families, from tribes and thinning

homelands, was to some like plucking apples from a

tree and shipping them off to market. Greed was

King again, holding tight the reins to deny views of

the ripening fate. But it was clearly written there,

fear, across their faces on the street, the heart of a

birthing nation – now peering through the rubble.

Slave lords ignored the moans of wincing neglect,

in favor of their thriving businesses, exporting goods,

and strong bodies, off to the bazaar of human shame.

790,000 faces soon bore the pain there, in desperation,

hopelessness and grief through each step of fate. Later,

the Republic’s founding trouble-makers were isolated,

anchored on a non-compete paper raft, in the world of

steel hulls powered by the impious. The destiny of a

deserted people grew clearer across thousands of faces

now on the street, peering through the rubble.

Cries of full freedom meant more trouble, so the paper raft,

was loaded and cut loose, as a drifting prison, carrying this

new nation into acid waters of abandonment, eating away

at the flimsy craft and thousands of unprepared, untrained

captives, struggling with unfamiliar currents – no rudder,

nor maps, and one discarded compass – without a needle.

Then, while the world danced with busyness and glee of

other opportunities beckoning beyond the lingering fate here,

little effort was focused on what was written on those faces,

now peering through the earthquake rubble.

Yes, the paper raft drifted over the waterfall when the quake

struck. The huge loss of life, rebuilding needs and costs pose

enormous challenges. Yet, now there are methods to rebuild

structures to ride earth’s plates and greatly reduce death and

damages; new ways to industrialize and invest profitably with co-

operation and human purpose; exciting ways to educate and not

indoctrinate. Yes, new development opportunities and human

need suggest this is the time for Haiti, the Americas, and others

to work together to jump-start a new Haiti. Generous help is

pouring in, even while cynics continue to polish their mirrors.

Is Haiti cursed by a pact with the devil, as Pat Robertson says?

Doubtful. Yet if so, who might have been parties to such a pact,

including parties of commission as well as parties of omission?

Who? Do you see either of those expressions written on the faces

of those on the street – or in the clear innocent eyes of the children?

It is more likely that any such pact might truly instead be a “pack,”

as a pack of two of the devil’s favorite candy bars – Almond Greed

and Dicey Decadence – which he plants among all of us and in

particular situations in history, working like a mouse trap, poised

and ready – to charm and deceive new recruits to do his work.

                                ---------------

Dedication: The above 5 stanzas of 10 lines each are dedicated
to those first 50 Africans who were taken by force in 1503

to the island of Hispaniola, named by Columbus, and upon which

in 1749 the city of Port-au-Prince was founded on the western

portion of what is now the Republic of Haiti.

                     Copyright © 2010 C. Page Highfill

Archived Photo Rescued for 2009 Christmas Card

The photo above was taken from our back deck and archived in 2005 along with some of the work below. When I see scenes like this, I usually take several photos and save them, thinking..."Beautiful sunset. Maybe I'll use that for something special one day." Then so often, I forget about it. But not this one.

As some of you know, every year I create and print our own family Christmas cards and usually use some form of art or photo I had the opportunity to work with during the previous year. Usually I start thinking about the upcoming Christmas card around August. This year, however, August and then September zoomed by without any captivating thoughts or ideas for a 2009 card -- except maybe to do something different.

Then one day in October, when fall colors of oranges, yellows and reds surrounded us, the above photo came to mind. I also remembered some of the digital work I had done with it earlier to illustrate a Bible story's reference to four seasons. So, I started considering some possibilities. One of the first steps I had taken in some 2005 digital experiments was to guide and direct the computer, through Photoshop's Layer-Difference routines, to show me variations of changing the oranges, reds and yellows to their opposite color on the color wheel.

For example, considering the three primary colors of Red, Yellow and Blue on a color wheel, I reviewed and styled multiple computer routines to re-paint the Reds in the original photo (top) with its opposite colors (Blue + Yellow) or Green; re-paint the Oranges (Red + Yellow) into shades of its opposite, Blue; Yellows into shades of its opposite (Red + Blue) into Magenta/Purple. Pretty soon I was beginning to see some renditions I might consider for a Christmas card. But, there was still a major color-shift waiting.

That was to invert the dark colors to whites, as shown above. Since the darks are also in the sky and tiny branches, they all became white snow flakes here. See them? It's now winter! And a beginning background for a Christmas card. Inside the card I developed these verses to complete the greeting:

Let us recall beyond this Season,

God’s gift to all - love’s holy reason.

We see him here in all of nature, 

His forest, creatures, and the weather.

We see him glow inside each other,

When there’s just two or three together.

We see him, friends, sisters and brothers,

Whenever there’s wonder, love and cheer,

Like now, when we wish you another...

Merry Christmas

and Happy New Year.

If you did not receive one of our Christmas cards, please accept this one as our e-version to you and your family. If you are not Christian, may this e-card bring you special ecumenical Heart and Spirit greetings from us to you which you may translate into your own personal beliefs. Peace to all.

(c) Copyright 2009 C. Page Highfill, all rights reserved.