Always Reforming

Originally written on 1/31/17. What an adventure! What an expedition! Exploring the dark recesses of my own soul, Afraid to discover, Yet afraid to leave Undiscovered The secrets that lie beneath this pale exterior. As my head is beset by grays, I begin to see Just how fine is the line between Genius and insanity. These words, These pages turned, These evanescent lives are nothing more Than my mortal fears personified for So few eyes to see. My dreams, They seem To vanish without hope of Realization. Do I dare to enter into my own Psyche? Do I dare to venture deeper into These shrouded ruins? These abyssal caverns hide what No eye need behold, These catacombs--uncharted--can they Bare to be exposed? Deep below the surface is where The best stories grow, I fear it takes pain and sorrow To produce a Poe. As my head is beset by grays, I begin to see Just how fine is the line between Genius and insanity.

The New Testament is not a monolith.  Rather, the New Testament is a collection of writings .  Whatever we say about the New Testament (or the Bible as a whole), we should be clear that Scriptures , not Scripture , is the more technical, as well as the more traditional, term.  With hesitation I use the pronoun it when referring to the New Testament according to modern convention and in the interest of convenience. The New Testament is not a book of dogma, nor is it a Systematic Theology.  Rather, these writings were addressed to different people in different contexts responding to very different, very specific situations.  When we read an imperative in the New Testament, we should not automatically assume that we are receiving a direct command.  In other words, the New Testament is occasionally  descriptive with no thought of being prescriptive .  The New Testament is not exhaustive.  It does not, nor does it attempt to, speak to every potential issue, whether ethical, liturgical,

First written sometime in the distant past. Heaping bowls of popcorn, Wiffle ball in the back yard, Vicious snowball fights, Church--every Sunday, Dr. Who, Diagnosis Murder, Tragedy, A scar down the middle of her chest. Potluck dinners after church, Glop, The state of Virginia, Cousins, Early Edition, The Marx Brothers, Strained relationships, A scar down the middle of our hearts. The old Maple tree, Broken swimming pools, The dog we never had, The cats we loved, TGIF, Sanford and Son, Lessons learned too early, A coffin in the ground. A big, green house, A big, gray house, A fireplace, A wrap-around couch, Martin Luther (in black and white), The Thin Man, Missed opportunities, A giant hole in our lives. Kool-Aid in the Summer, Russian Tea in the Winter, The warmth of a family, Emotional paralysis, Star Trek, Charade, Siblings, A lifetime ago.

Hectic days and Restless nights, A smelly spouse and Bickering kids, Endless laundry and Tear-stained PACEs, Baby,  I see you. Bodily fluids and Misplaced socks, Rearranged furniture and Dinner ideas, Rambunctious pets and Neighborhood kids, Baby, I see you. Christmas shopping and Christmas lights, Christmas hair and Christmas dresses, All that work for  A COVID Christmas, Baby, I see you.

Originally written on January 13th, 2015. Dear Momma, I've got a few things I need to say: I miss you and I love you, And I'm sorry I took you for granted, I was too young to understand How deeply I would feel your absence. Hey Momma, Sometimes I wonder: What would you think about The course I've chosen? Would you be mad that I got Your name tattooed on my back? What would you be like If you were still here? What would I be like If you were still here? Hey Momma, One thing I wish I could see Is you with your grandchildren, And I'm sad I never really got to know you, Not truly--not in your prime. Hey Momma, I miss you and I love you, And, oh, Tell Jesus Hi for me.

The shock, The peace, The revelation of My own mediocrity. Am I losing it ? Did I ever have it ? Mind [       ], Fingers restless, Writing about Nothing But my own Writer's block. The pain, The frustration, Mental impotence, Creative constipation. How vulgar! How common. Why can't I write  Like I did back then? Did I ever write Anything worth reading? The comfort, The complacency, The resolution Of giving up.

Allow me to begin with a clarification.  I really don't want to be that guy.  We all hate that guy--the guy who reads some book and suddenly changes everything he believes; the guy who reads one big, fat book and suddenly knows more than anyone else who ever read books, earned degrees, or practiced pastoral ministry.   I hope and pray that I am not being that guy.   Nevertheless, The Shape of the Liturgy is one of those books.  It is one of those books that has the potential to inspire a Copernican Revolution is one's theological universe.  This book, if one is determined enough to dig in and mine through the tedious details and footnotes, will expose the reader to historical facts, theological concepts, and liturgical practices of which the vast majority of modern Christians, Protestants especially, are completely unaware.  The author , an Anglican monk, opens up a world, strange and compelling, which most Christians don't know exists.    The Shape of the Liturgy is p