Against the "Seasons" Analogy...

What season are you in?
Are you enjoying this season?  Tolerating it?
Praying for it to end, so you can pass into the next season?
We know that any analogy has limits, and I contend that the "seasons" of life analogy, so popular in Christian and self-help literature, has reached its natural end.

The natural seasons all have purposes, plans and are necessary for the cycle of life - good stuff, and relate-able to much of human experience.  Yet, they are not to be just 'passed through' - what about mindful acceptance of where one is now?
What about rejection of the banal characterisation of 'evil' cold winter, and simplistic 'joyous' springs and 'warm' fun summers?

Take pain, as a season.  What if someone is living in constant chronic pain?  They know full-well that they are most likely not going to wake up in flowering spring tomorrow.  Pain goes on for years, through many natural climatic seasons.  Pain is a sign that something is wrong, and those seeking healing do so through days, months, years of treatment.  Scars often remain after treatment and healing, and these do not pass, but linger as reminders.

Grief is also not a 'season', in my experience.  From the loss of a significant person, I went through cycles of grief and a yearly depressed feeling at the anniversary of the loss.  It was a walking through, a carrying on, a living in a changed reality - not a leaf turning over, like the beginning of autumn.

Parenthood, I have heard, is a 'season' that lasts forever!  No-one ceases being a parent.  I know a beautiful couple whose only child - a son - lived for moments, before his death.  There is a little grave that marks their hearts as parents - mummy and daddy of a life cut short.  They will not pass from this season, it is theirs forever.

As a single, I am often sensitive to unthinking remarks that fly off about the "season of singleness".  What if it is not a 'season' of my life?  What if it is my whole life?  And, what if sometimes it feels cold and lonely, and sometimes warm and sunny?  And sometimes like a crazy mix of all weathers coming in and out over a course of days?

Joy is not a 'season'.  As a Christian, I seek for the joy of knowing Jesus Christ's love and acceptance, no matter what.  No matter my pain, happiness, marital state, job, climate, personality or whatever uncontrollable factors.  This is possible - I believe - as I practice trusting God, surrendering what I think should be happening, and come to rest in understanding that I am love and accepted by the Saviour of my soul.

Not platitudes, no simplistic slogans.  Life is so much more complex and wonderful than the 'season' analogy.

What if Christmas was the REVERSAL of the universal entropy????

The usual story - a hopeless tangle of last years Christmas tree lights...crushed bulbs, lost coloured-covers that make it look scrappy, and the unending search for undoing the mess without screaming.

The 'Naked Scientist' BBC program which aired on ABC's Radio National set three scientists the task to untangle some fairy-lights each, with ensuing discussion on the need for "a system" to eliminate this problem - an "entropy reversal" system that could AVOID the annual mess, restore order, and reduce stress.  [See their website https://www.thenakedscientists.com/articles/interviews/entropy-christmas-lights]

They suggest something as simple as an empty cereal box, for careful winding around once the lights are not required. This then can be placed in a crate or on a shelf so that the infernal tangle is no more!  The scientists and the presenters continued on their discussion, concluding "if only, there was such a system!" for the problem of this just going awry when left to itself.

This got me thinking - what about the problem of human entropy, and the tangled mess we find ourselves, our societies, and our planet, knotted up in?

What if the ancient scroll is true and that humanity "is born to trouble, as the sparks fly upwards"? Found in the Book of Job, chapter 5, verse 7, paraphrased by me.

What if the Promised Saviour who was to "save his people from their sins", (Gospel of Matthew, chapter 1, verse 21) - from their tangles, their mess, and the pain of self-induced or other-caused actions was the REVERSAL of the universal entropy of which we are all suffering?

The Letter of Saint Paul to the Romans (chapter 8, verse 22) says that "we know that the whole creation has been groaning" under all this sin - entropy - and is waiting for salvation!

Well, SALVATION has come!  Jesus was born, and we celebrate this at Christmas.
The possibility of the NEW CREATION has arrived by God's grace, and by his plan as told in the scriptures - the promises to Eve, to Abraham, and in the texts of Isaiah and other prophets.

Old Simeon and old Anna rejoiced, as they SAW what had been promised come true (Luke chapter 2, verses 25 to 38), and they gave God the credit due the One who had said that the "offspring of the woman would crush the serpent" (Genesis chapter 3, verse 15).

So, is entropy inevitable?  Is there something in the Maker's manual that can assist us to not only resolve 'tangles' but reduce and avoid them?

May you seek the meaning of Christmas, as you search to untangle big and small things in your life these holidays.

Trouble in the woods... (10th century)

Poetic lines from the 10th Century, written by Shmuel HaNagid – prime minister of the kingdom of Granada, head of its Muslim army, and leader of Andalusia’s Jewish community:

http://www.bbc.co.uk/culture/story/20170616-the-1000-year-old-lost-arab-poetry-that-lives-on-in-hebrew

A Poem for Quietness

A poem for quietness

When I was quiet

When I died

down

It took a while to remember 

What really mattered.

The noises I had made

Shrieked in chiastic

emptying

As the diamond scrape of Words cut to the bone:

I am

enough

For you are held in 

Hands that sprinkle wonder.

Cross I bore shred My voice,

And now hear this:

Surrender means I love you;

Be still and see God's glory.

Be at rest, I tell anxious survivor,

for One has conquered,

and Christ's cleansing touch makes whole.

 

(c) J.C. Vandersee 24 August, 2017.

A new poem for a new season of grace...

I can only preface this by saying that I am blown away by God's amazing love and abundant grace.  I want to serve the Lord God, who sent his Son Jesus Christ, to seek and save humanity.  This is a part of the message - a parable of love, told by Jesus, in Matthew 22:1-14 (find in any Christian Bible).

The feast  by Joanna C Vandersee 18July2017

Breathless arrival.

Yet, one could not

          slip unaided through

the entry Way.

Led, beaming;

          vast corridors of perfection

          glared

at my resistive frame.

Until the Hand that

          bade me welcome

          indicated –

Sit and eat.

And I was shyly resting

          on the pillows of

          majestic grace,

          and dared take crumbs –

and saw

the others too

who feasted

now so far from road and by-way lanes.

I lay back – gleaming,

bright new robe -

then ate up lavish

serves of love.

© JCV

A POEM: 'Les Courageuses - The Courageous Ones [Women of the Lord Jesus Christ]'

LES COURAGEUSES   by Joanna C Vandersee [23June2013, Dalby, Qld, Australia.]

They lived for the Lord Jesus Christ in distant, far-off places;

They were many and different and varied of faces.

Some died old, yes old, and so strong in their faith;

Some died young, still determined, determined - go on!

They all gave their life, all their love and their hope.

They held on with courage beyond human strength…

To all of you –

Christianas, Christopheras, Christines:

To you who have gone, left, sailed and flown;

Who have served and led;

Preached and taught,

Managed and fought.

And borne His pure image and borne His pure name.

To Anne, and the Marys; Susanna - “the others”;

To Lydia, Syntyche, Euodia, Phoebe, and Chloe,

To Veronica, Margaret, Marie and Nina;

To Perpetua, Felicity, Monica and co.;

To Hilda, to Claire, Therese, and to Agnes,

To Mother Julian; and mothers, and the mother of Bede.

To Princesses, Duchesses, and daughters of dukes;

To the sisters, the mothers, the aunties, the friends.

To the veiled and the robed,

To the bodiced and girdled,

To the wimpled and dimpled,

Bespectacled and squinting.

To the gloved and the hatted,

The modern and manicured.

To the sweating and fainting,

To the feverish and frail:

To Florence; to Lilias;

To Amy; Priscilla;

To Mildred, Francesca,

And to all of their known, and some unnamed, companions.

To the pioneer, the path-finder,

The side-saddled and astride.

To the hikers, the climbers and the seated in sedan-chairs.

To the sea-sick, the bus-sick and all severely home-sick.

To those who packed wedding dress in simple pine coffin.

To those who brought baby-clothes remaining unused.

To the wives; and to all of the women ‘unmanned’.

To the merciful and mothering;

Child-bearing, child-caring, child-rearing ---

Alone.

To the back-seat, the back room, the back door, the backers.

To the cooks, and the cleaners and keepers of home

fires ----far, far, far,

Oh, so far from home.

To all of those who wiped feverish brows,

And to those who had no-one;

no-one to wipe theirs.

To the harvesters; to the pray-ers;

To the purposeful; the proclaimers.

To the doctors and midwives and nurses and maids -

Through whose hands Jesus touched first-born of nations.

To the translators and teachers;

Engineers, chemists ----

Drivers and driven;

Going on, bringing light.

To the determined and daring.

To the hurt and heart-broken.

To the givers and thank-ers.

To the humble, the contrite.

To the brazen and bold;

To the hopeful and fruitful.

To the tearful and tear-stained.

To the lovely and grey.

To the wrinkled and beautiful.

To the smiling and gentle.

All the Christlike brave women in places away ----

The city, the country, the hellish, the cold.

The mountain, the desert, the oceans and sea.

To the changing and resourceful.

To the imaginative and careful.

To the neat and the practical;

The artistic and wistful.

To the messy and colourful ---

To the Lord of them all.

To the constantly packing, unpacking and checking.

To the good-byes and hellos all over again.

To the fleeing of gun-shot and bombing and danger;

The uncertainty, worry, and knowing the pain.

To the friendships eternal that were forged in the flame.

To the worldwide returning to places again.

To the hand-maidens of Him who made heaven and earth.

To the women who served Him and loved Him and gave -

Hearts of both gold, and bloody raw flesh;

Hands - both of steel, and velvet, touching in love.

To Jesus who called them and for Whom they gave all ----

Les Courageuses :  Courageous, “ The Courageous Ones”.

(edited 05/02/2015 JCV)

(re-edited 12/04/2017 JCV)

Poetry – art that never ends… (JCV)

Easter Day 2017 - what really happened

MY EASTER SUNDAY 2017

Today I saw love.  

I went to lunch at the home of people who I have come to cherish and respect these past 2 and 3/4 years in Brisbane.

They always open their hearts, and regularly their home, as they know that they are blessed to be a blessing.

...

Around the table today sat their 'blood' - sons and grandchildren - also, their daughters-in-law, a neighbour, a few church friends (myself in this group), and total strangers:  a refugee woman in hiding from severe domestic violence, and an international student from the former Soviet block who was raised in atheism.

The woman came with one of the church friends.  She walked into another church one day because that is where you go for help - Christians are kind - they will help the weak, the poor, the abused. 

She is safe, in hiding, but the police have her estranged husband's number, picture and details. A Christian barrister is on the case to advise and support. Clothes and other items have been donated and more is coming.

The international student is solemnly taking in the scene - he asks me who is actually the related kin of the hosts, and then how the others (me included) fit in. 

He looks puzzled: How is it we are all here in this house, at this table, like family????

He is amazed, and yet, joins in.

The lunch goes on. 

We share stories, eat too much, and talk too much about politics for a polite gathering.

We slowly move out to the veranda and watch the children play. Surrealistically, bagpipes start somewhere nearby and the multicultural mix is complete.

As he is saying his goodbyes to all, the student approaches the hostess. His English is very good but he struggles to find the words: "Why do you do this? Why is it that you act this way, with these people in your home, and sharing like this?"

My friend, the lady of the house, who cannot NOT be hospitable, gently puts her hand on his arm.

I hear her take a breath and I breathe in too - praying for her to have God's words:

"It's because we are so blessed, and we have God's love that we want to share. We believe that this is how we should live and show the love of Jesus to everyone that we can. 

We love because Jesus loves us."

(Something VERY similar came from her mouth - this is my frail recollection)

I slowly breathe out, trying not to cry - smiling, smiling, smiling - rejoicing!!!

The Gospel - Easter Good News - went forth today, and I humbly watched it happen!

To God be the glory!