Pilgrim's Advent. - [ A SINGLE OCCASION INTERACTIVE ADVENT SERVICE ]

 

About 5 years ago, my husband Claude and I escaped to friends' river house for a rare birthday weekend respite, after the start of the new school year, but before the holiday season. However, soon after we arrived he received a call from work to return the next morning for an emergency meeting with a general or some such VIP. Consequently I found myself all alone in a quiet beautiful place, with pen, journal and a copy of Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress, which I was taking my son's homeschool Literature class through; it was the perfect (creative) storm. I later added the presentation elements ( wreath, candles and songs) in order to adapt it for presentation to the ladies' ministry for our church: the only place it was ever delivered. Feel free to enjoy, with proper attribution to Denise Stair Armstrong, please. Grace to every Pilgrim on the Journey this Advent. 

(An Advent wreath is prominently displayed and four  pre-selected  persons prepared to light each candle and lead the singing of each portion of music. Sheets or overhead projection of the songs/hymn portions should be available to the attendees)

Narrator reads;

Christian, the Pilgrim, one night on his way,

Again lost the Path to that City of Day.

So great was the darkness, so black was the land, 

He fumbled and stumbled for places to stand.

Shades of death overtook him; he cowered and creeped.

Then slid, falling down, struck his head, fell in sleep.

He heard ancient prophet foretelling the time,

When Messiah would come through a virgin sublime.

“The people that walked in great darkness” he said,

“Have seen a great Light in the land  of the dead.

His name is called Wonderful, Counsellor Great,

Father Eternal, Peace Prince we await.”

(Light the First Advent Candle – representative of ‘the Light of the Hope of the Prophets’)

- Song : “Oh come, O come Immanuel…”

Arousing himself our dazed Pilgrim espied,

“First Light! Yes I see! Though I thought I, had died!

I know it is leading me back to the path,

Out of this darkness, this dread land of wrath.”

But alas! Our dear Christian was soon lost again,

This time drawn by lights seen through earth-tainted lens.

“Bright lights, there! I see them! A-sparkling on trees!

Red ones, and green ones! Declare ‘X-mas’ glee?

This place  I have come to in search of the light

Is called...'X-MAS CITY?' - the 'X' is my plight.

Its lights call out to me to stop and to stare.

To quench self’s lusts, pleasures with all fleshly fare.”

“Eat drink and be merry! From nothing refrain!”

I heard its shrill call luring men to the vain.

‘Twas Vanity Fair bidding, “Indulge your flesh!”

Its center had Herod's agenda enmeshed.

“The light is your own!” I, confused, heard him say.

“Remove Christ from Christ-mas. Mark 'X', It's your day!

Let's search, find your own divine spark; it is true.

And then help you worship the Christ that is you!”

Before I could gather my wits ‘round about me 

The ‘X’ passions clashed; ‘twas a self-striving spree!

Breaking stores’ doors down and trampling on workers!

Racking up debt – tribute for X-mas  altars.

I fled from that town with the twinkling lights:

Visions of death! Not the Glory of Christ!

Stumbling, de-lighted his hands on his head

Eyes downcast, dejected the young pilgrim pled,

“O Lord, I don’t see You; the path I can’t find;

What darkens my vision? What’s keeping me blind?

Then that’s when I noticed, beyond X-mas walls,

The suffering, forgotten, the weak and the small.

Like sheep lost and scattered their shepherds were few.

I stepped back o’erwhelmed; did not know what to do.

Then a bright stranger shining laid hand on my shoulder.

He put me to sit ‘mongst the sheep on a boulder.”

Song -

“Open the eyes of my heart Lord

  Open the eyes of my heart,

 I want to see You…”

“The Light that you seek is quite near where we stand.

Remember the words of the Scroll in your hand:

The Virgin-born child, God incarnate appointed, 

Laid in a creche by the Spirit anointed

To bring the Good News to lost sheep such as these,

To bind up torn hearts, give the bound liberty.

Avoid the vain gifts to consume on man’s lust

Guide men to the Savior, lift hearts from sin’s dust!”

  

(Light second Advent candle – representative of ‘The Light and warmth found by Mary & Joseph in a ‘stable’)

Then out from the clouds burst a light shining glorious!

Of angels proclaiming Messiah victorious!

I saw where He made His incarnate abiding -

Midst prisoners and orphans, despairing and dying!

Shepherds and carpenter, young maiden lowly

Knelt in a grotto that God had made Holy.

Light of His birthplace bathed all in his Glory.

I basked in His love; pledged to reflect His story.

The Light and the warmth we had found in that place

Was the Light of the Glory of God in Christ’s face!”

(Light third Advent candle – representative of ‘The light and joy which surrounded the shepherds & also sent them forth’)

Song – “O come all Ye faithful…”

I knew I should go with the shepherds to tell

The dark world, X-mas world, of Immanuel.

But first, Lord, before I continue my mission

I must offer to You, Blest Pearl of my vision,

My heart’s dearest treasure, its every aspiring,

Ignite in their place Your bright flame’s Holy firing.

The work of my hands, deeds that shape all my days-

The feeding of sheep, finding lambs gone astray,

Also can capture my heart it is true

Replacing this glorious vision of You.

Daily attract me to bask in Your light,

As I sojourn in ‘Babylon’, capture my sight.

Though I face lions, furnace or pow’r crazed rulers,

To You, keep me faithful, blest Sovereign & Savior.”

  Song – “We three Kings of orient are…” )

I step here aside, for new guests now I see, 

Star-guided, have also brought gifts – 1, 2, 3.

Kings bring gold for Kingship, incense for Your praise,

 Myrrh’s bitter taste for the day You are raised

Up high between earth and the dark sky where rays 

Now beam down from Your Light, O Ancient of Days.

Shine on!  Light Our paths! One source of Holy fire,

You’ve ravished our hearts, You, our one Great Desire!”

(Light fourth Advent candle – representing the Light of God’s Truth which guides Wisemen to Jesus and also keeps them on the path)

Song – “Shine Jesus, Shine…!”

Quiet, meditative closing and exit.

Moonsong - (My 40-day Advent Journey - 1)

     Did you catch it? The Supermoon of 2016. The moon will never be closer to earth, they say, for another 18 years. The cloudy sky over Virginia that morning totally blocked the view, but thanks to modern technology, I was able to view this astronomical wonder by TV, though also a bit distracted by the ordinariness of the setting. I was in the podiatrist's office with my mother waiting with a dozen or so disinterested patients eager to remove their shoes, but not because they perceived this was holy ground. 

     The massive orb hung, a surreal pinkish-grey, against the diminutive skyline of some more fortunate American city, on the morning of November 14, unsettling in its size.

     Like a banner at the closing of our ordinary days, it seemed to announce that the coming of the King is near. We were a week past the most contentiously fought general election of our nation’s history, and a week before  the Sunday on the Church’s liturgical calendar designated, the Feast of Christ The King.

     My leading to observe a 40-day Advent could not have been more appropriately placed. I needed to be caught up again in His-Story. The world was way too much with me. As all over college campuses and the dis-appointed media fear was ‘mongered’, others, who looked to man for deliverance, rejoiced, giddy with baseless glee. Basking in the residual moonlight as my first contemplative act of the 40 days, I pressed my soul to consider the real King.

     The nearness of a ruling monarch is often cast as a prospect to be feared. Heads could roll ( think Esther), irrevocable words could be uttered to your detriment (think Daniel), for choosing to appeal in person to Caesar (think Paul). History books record tales of streets being cleared of all the sick, lame and poor in preparation for the visit of French and Russian monarchs – nothing to disturb the monarch’s fragile sensibilities or present less than a picture of prosperity and successful reign.

     I recall, from the days of my own childhood,  the visit of a representative of the British Crown to my own island home of Jamaica. Oh the fixing of roads! the whitewashing of sidewalks and tree trunks! the relocating of sidewalk vendors and ‘sprucing ups’ of the things of our ordinary, everyday lives, to make them appear pleasing, presentable to the Crown.

     How different is the coming of The King of Kings whose nearness is our good. Kimberlee Conway Ireton, in her wonderful book on devotionally observing the Church’s liturgical year, The Circle of Seasons, describes the final Sunday before Advent, the Feast of Christ the King, as...

“…a time to celebrate the day when Christ’s great love will be fully realized on earth, the day when our King will return. He will right all wrongs. He will judge the living and the dead. He will bind up the brokenhearted…give sight to the blind…heal the lame…set the prisoners free…establish justice once and for all, justice tempered with mercy so that all life might flourish under His reign.”

Even so, come Lord Jesus!

     As I peered up from my bedroom window, 4:00 am the following morning, at the diminished but no less beautiful supermoon, another thought that gained entry was a hymn frequently sung in the church of my childhood, “I am Thine, O Lord’, which refrains, ‘Draw me nearer, nearer, nearer, blessed Lord…’. 

     Written by Fanny Crosby & William Doane (1820-1915/1832-1915), after the two had spent the evening observing a glorious sunset and discussing the nearness of God in their lives, (keeping in mind Crosby’s complete blindness!!), I was intrigued by her words in the stanza which reads, 

“There are depths of love that I cannot know

Till I cross that narrow sea

There are heights of joy that I may not reach 

Till I rest in peace with Thee”

    Yet there is so much of His love and joy that is already accessible, in both Creation’s testimony and its groans of longing for the revelation of the sons and daughters of God – (Romans 1:20/8:19). By these - glorious sunsets or full moons, from the days of our first separation in Eden, and now, through His Son, Jesus - God invites, 

“Draw near to (Him) and He will draw near to you” (James 4:8a)

     The tune of supermoon’s song, against the din of mankind’s strivings, soothed my soul. Other than testifying that Earth is still “cramm’d with heaven”, its quiet yet awe-inspiring rising, terrible in its beauty and nearness, invoked the King’s own promise:

     “And I, if I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all peoples to Myself” (John 12:32, NKJV). 

     Hear the tune; hear the words and even if you don’t whitewash your tree trunks this Advent, at least take off your shoes and let's, 

     “... draw near with a true heart in full assurance of faith, having our hearts sprinkled from an evil conscience, and our bodies washed with pure water.” (Hebrews 10:22)

This King’s nearness is our good.

Fast-Forward to Advent

I was surprised, on Monday, to see a large decorated Christmas tree and wreaths decorating the medical facility where I took my mother last week to have her eyes checked. 

"It's not even Thanksgiving yet!" I complained. It felt somewhat like someone  had opened a gift too soon and was spoiling the surprise.

Yet I must admit that something in me wants to start preparing early this year too. I don't know if it's just that the events of this year, both nationally and internationally, have left me feeling violated somehow, shaken up and hungry for the beauty and peace of 'His Coming'. 

So Yes, I confess I went searching early for Advent, before Thanksgiving! Remembering that my dear friend, Kimberlee Conway Ireton, author of my favorite guide to the Christian church's Liturgical year, The Circle of Seasons, once had mentioned a fellow blogger who promoted a 40-day Advent observance, I googled and found the two sites linked below.

One is the site of the Northumbria Community, a monastic-like community seeking to live by a 'rule of life' similar to the Benedictine order (if I am not mistaken). They observe this Celtic 40-day Advent, and the page gives a beautiful introduction & justification for the practice. 

The other link is a chart for a 40-day Advent observance, designed by the blogger at the site, 'contemplative cottage'. Though not a scripture based activity, this chart provides meaningful & thoughtful activities to engage in as preparation for celebrating the Incarnation.

I will endeavor to post my reflections on my Blogsite (linked at jamaicadawnwings.blogspot.com) as I go through, in a very grace-filled way, 🙏🏿  this my first 40-day Advent.

 I anticipate a refreshing, refocusing of my heart, soul & mind as I worship the Lord and seek to bless my world by these activities. Join me, and share your own thoughts at 'Dawnwings' as well, as we 'Fast-Forward to Advent!'

Dancing in anticipation on that Bridge - the Cross - that spans the Great Divide between our hearts and His,

Denise

http://www.northumbriacommunity.org/saints/celtic-advent-november-16th/ 

http://contemplativecottage.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/11/Advent-Calendar-2015-without-color-large.pdf

Sent from my iPad

Not Safe

     At the top of a week which saw observations as varied as All-Saints Day, Reformation Day, The Day of the Dead, and Halloween, I was thankful to hear a retelling of a seminal moment in Church history, specifically of the Protestant Reformation — excerpts of the speeches and prayers of Reformer Martin Luther. His famous, oft-quoted, closing words, that "...to act against one's conscience is neither right nor safe..." struck me with even greater force than it previously had, as I was compelled to examine the profundity of Luther's grasp of what constitutes SAFETY.

     There he stood, at the mercy of  a Council and authorities determined to incinerate not only his writings but his very person, yet he directed them to consider the danger he would be in should he violate the truths he had become convinced of, by the Scriptures, regarding God, Mankind and Christian faith.

     My local fellowship's current focus on the book of Daniel was without doubt informing my own reflections here, and I cannot help but believe that that prophetic book's great testimony had also informed Luther's as he answered at the Diet of Worms. He, like the young Hebrew exiles, held firmly in his grasp the reality that burning to death while tied to a stake, being thrown into a den of hungry lions or cast into a fiery furnace was rather to be chosen than the eternally self-destructive action of denying the integrity and basis of the regenerating, transformative experiences of the soul that has tasted fellowship with the true and living God.

     And though there is a literal hell to shun, with its attendant physical tortures, heeding Luke's counsel in chapter 12:4-5,
"And I say to you My friends, do not be afraid of those who kill the body, and after that have no more that they can do.
But I will show you whom you should fear: Fear Him who, after He has killed, has power to cast into hell; yes, I say, to you, fear Him!",

their faithfulness (unto death!) was fueled by this even greater compelling motive:

     These, like Moses, of the throng chronicled in Hebrew's Hall of Faith, were fortified by, "..esteeming the reproach of Christ as greater...for (they) looked to the reward...not fearing the wrath of the king(s); for (they) endured as seeing Him who is invisible". ( chapter 11:26-27). A simple search in Strong's concordance revealed that word ''looked" to be rooted in the Greek word 'apoblepo' - to look away from everything else in order to look intently on one object. The glimpse, which once engaged, grips you (like a 'tractor beam' of sci-fi films!) and locks you forever in the Gaze of the Terribly Beautiful One.

     It makes me feel the urgency, in these threatening times of our day, to check to see what has my conscience "held captive" - does the Invisible One have my gaze? And as we remember our suffering fellow believers this Sunday, marking the International day of Prayer for the Persecuted Church, may our repentance, praise, petitions and supplications, indeed our very lives, be grounded in the SAFETY known only by captives of His Love as revealed in Jesus Christ of the Scriptures.

Dwell Retreat Reflections IV - Moving ...Forward!

     "Surgery for children whose feet are on backwards"; I was arrested by the headline. As the CBN newscaster described Operation Blessing's featured outreach that day, I rejoiced at their good work pledging to continue giving. However, the picture of an otherwise well-formed human being, but with feet turned backwards, became an imprinted metaphor. Often, at crucial points in my life, I have felt myself caught in a mindset of wanting to go forward but equally yearning to go in the opposite direction. 

     Sitting in the midst of several interactions at the Dwell Retreat was like that for me, as it began to dawn that 'publishing' in this season would need to be at first by Internet. Every skeleton in my 'techno-phobe'closet began to rattle, and I was ready to jump ship. I had just started to become comfortable with following a few blog sites by email, taking some initial steps editing by Word & employing Dropbox, and even resurrecting my own blog, (for the retreat) abandoned a year before —  but Facebook, that would be a stretch. And, as once again that boney finger of Jody's was used to launch me into a new paradigm, I understood why there had been a tiny dinosaur in my welcome packet. 

     Seasoned blogger, Amy, smiled benevolently as we shared our parting words, "It's okay! I did not start here where you see me today? Just go through the paces as we all have to and next thing you know...". That explained another cute inclusion in that infamous packet — a photo dated 1900, of a group of African-American, elementary school students on the grounds of Howard University, Washington, DC, going through a calisthenics workout ( looked like the hokie-pokie!). Fully dressed in pinafores, button boots, britches and sailor, bow tie & even ruffle collars (on boys!), they were the picture of cuteness, though all obviously under duress. As I faced the prospect of starting a blog and getting on Facebook I definitely felt like the little boy in the middle of the group, his head cocked to the side with hands on hips, left foot out, a large floppy bow at his chin, and face declaring, "This is not what I expected PE to be".

     But as sure as that left foot was out I knew the right one would follow. One of my primary prayers as I had ventured forth to Dwell was that I would cease working with a 'slack hand' with regard to my call to write. A dozen volumes or so of devotional journals, littered with song lyrics, poems, essays and letters to God, and a half-hearted blog start-up, hardly qualified as answering a call. I realized that though I relished the spontaneous aspects of creative, inspirational writing I needed to take His yoke — easy yes, but yoke nonetheless. Though a lover of order in most other aspects, I resisted any constraints on my writing once I left the halls of academia.

     I had ended my college career with a letter from the literary journal, The Caribbean Writer, agreeing to publish my poem, 'The  Bearer' in that year's issue. Thrilled that it would appear in order next to a piece by the great Langston Hughes, I knew I was on my way. Now here I was again poised on the cusp of potential, the threshold of opportunity. A tide to take at the flood, a 'chiros' in God's timeline for me. But also hearing, as I had at other times, with performance driven ears, the admonition of James, to "Show (now) my faith by my works" (Jas. 2:18), I felt an all too familiar shrinking feeling before that great mountain.

     But mercifully, that morning, I also heard the words of the Revelation to John in chapter 3:7-8.

The words that greeted me on the morning of the September 11, the second day of the retreat, 

   "These things says He who is holy, He who is true, He who has the key of David, He who opens and no one shuts, who shuts and no one opens, ...I know your works. See I have set before you AN OPEN DOOR, and no one can shut it; for you have little strength, you have kept my word, you have not denied my name".

     The phrase 'open door' jumped out at me, from the Mark Batterson devotional I was using at the time, and from my reading in Colossians, as the apostle Paul appealed for prayer that God would "Open up to (them) a door for the word...", and it echoed in my mind from the last line of the third in my Kansas Sunrise series that I had read on the plane coming in. Deep in my knower, the last morning as we fellowshipped, I told the ladies  I had a bridge to cross, literally & figuratively.

     I knew God spoke to me of the Internet, that great portal, that great front door to almost the entire earth — Facebook & a blogsite — a leash I needed to take to it, if I would ride the morning wind with Him in this season. And my soul said "yes", as I put my right foot out, though it shook more than a little, and crossed the threshold; all of me heading in the same direction.

KANSAS SUNRISE (III)

To Go Home

I tried to go back home today 

But found I did not know the way- 

The hills too green or else too brown 

Smiles too wide, too severe the frown. 

Prepare the way for going back? 

With pen and sword there was a lack

A lack within a severed soul 

Island adrift without a pole 

A sea of grass , the biggest sky 

Must learn to fish or else I'll die 

Must find home in another's sea 

'Lone on the range's no place to be

To be's to find my family's face 

Within the wider human race 

For e'en this temperamental clime 

Can't keep sunflower from her time 

Or place in the sun, if only she 

Knows facing up's the way to be

To be's to catch an island dawn 

Upon a continental morn 

Then cast it back, its scales and all 

Those rosy frames now way too small 

To be's to look with naked eyes 

And thus to catch a new sunrise

Sunrise which shows new sunny ways 

To wield new lines , new temperate rays 

Which just as well dispel the dark 

In foreign or familiar park 

Capt'ring what's been hidden there 

From hasty hands or eyes of fear

Fear's not the fare to feed the soul 

That needs an anchor or a pole 

But lines that send roots deeper still 

Beyond one's private sea or hill 

That open up the great front door 

That say here's home and so much more.

by Denise Stair-Armstrong

© Jan. 28, 1995

Compass for Lost Islands

     Made freshly aware this week of how much more painful life is for my children's generation, I pause my Dwell retreat reflections to raise a cry on their behalf for us to reach out even more intentionally to the Millennials and any other category of youth, set adrift by our God-hating culture. We hold in our hearts the Antidote.

*************

     "Man is lonely by birth…" are words from a song I first encountered in the context of morning devotions at a Catholic High School in Kingston, Jamaica. It was my first full-time job as English teacher and Sister S ran a tight ship conducting ‘Assemblies’, for example, by two-way  telecom set up throughout the classrooms and other buildings of the school adjoining the Church of the Divine Childhood (names changed to protect identity).

     As the thought came flooding in this morning my mind cast about in search of the Truth to counter the allurement to despair that the idea engendered.

     The subsequent thought was no more encouraging, "It's the uniqueness of our individual pain that isolates us”. Here the Proverbs readily supplied Scripture's relevance, from 14.10, "Each heart knows its own sorrow, and a stranger does not share its joy".  My own previous musings supplied the next thought, that "Our own various efforts to deal or cope with our pain, in isolation, traps up even more firmly in loneliness". ‘Shared joys are made even sweeter by the sharing’ and ‘tears shed alone are bitter’, are proven maxims of past generations.

     Another chorus sung devotionally throughout the school system in the Jamaica of my youthful years flooded in…

"No man is an island,

No man stands alone,

Each man's joy is joy to me,

Each man's grief is my own.

We need one another,

So I will defend,

Each man as my brother,

Each man as my friend

Bridge:

I saw the people gather,

I heard the music start,

The song that they were singing,

Is ringing in my heart!"

     I realize, now, that the benign, ecumenical nature of the song’s non-specific bridge, worked just fine in our context because we were a Christian school in a Christian nation, in a world that still held to the one grounding, centering worldview, of Christianity ---

     The people we "saw gather" would be the Church, our ‘gathering’ would be unto the Lord of all the earth; the ‘song they were singing’ would be the music of our worship to Him, and its lyrics exalting His gloriously excellent attributes, His love for mankind and the Truths associated therewith. These were the thoughts that filled my mind and those of my peers back then. 

  But today, for youth (Christian or not) inundated as they are in the secular worldview of popular culture, it’s like being launched out to sea, having had all your navigational equipment smashed (deconstructed?) and being told to enjoy the free ride…to nowhere.

     The bearing of each other's "joy" and "grief" is a distinctly Christian value, exemplified supremely by our Lord Himself.  The Apostle Paul, elaborating, writes to the Galatians (6:1-5) to… 

     "Bear one another's burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ."  

     The primary 'bearing' being the conveying of the burden to the Triage Room of prayer, where the Great Physician Himself makes clear that He alone, ultimately, bears all our sorrows and griefs; as the great Prophet Isaiah foresaw and fore-wrote…

     "Surely he hath borne our griefs and carried our sorrows; yet we did esteem Him stricken, smitten of God and afflicted." (Isa. 53:4)

     His suffering, His substitutionary death: the ultimate antidote for both our pain and its source - our individual and universal sinfulness.

     But like petulant children we foolishly turn our faces away from the cup bearing the healing elixir – demanding the spoonful of sugar, not 'to make the medicine go down", but ‘instead of’ the medicine itself, because it makes our taste buds happy.  Like a good parent to ailing children reluctant to take the pill, the Apostle Peter admonishes (in the wonderful spirit captured by the Message Bible) in I Pet. 5:6-11…

     "So be content with who you are, and don't put on airs. God's strong hand is on you; He'll promote you at the right time.  Live carefree before God [casting all your cares upon Him!]; He is most careful with you." Keep a cool head. Stay alert. The devil is poised to pounce, and would like nothing better than to catch you  napping [in front of a screen, perhaps?].  Keep your guard up.  You're not the only ones plunged into these hard times.  It’s the same with Christians all over the world.  So keep a firm grip on the faith.  The suffering won’t last forever.  It won't be long before this generous God who has great plans for us in Christ – eternal and glorious plans they are! – will have you put together and on your feet for good.  He gets the last word; yes He does!"

 Amen!

     My own devotional musings complete, I sat back, relieved at three certitudes: 1) Despite seasons of loneliness, God provides good friends, grace-gifts we can call on at any time; 2) Biblically-based houses of fellowship still exist (I'm a part of one; not perfect, but being polished); and, should even those fade, 3) The faithfulness God who assures that,

     “…neither death , nor life, nor Angels, nor principalities, nor powers,  nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from ( His Love)  which is in Christ Jesus our Lord” (Rom. 8:38-39)

     Reminded thusly, that pain was still securely on my Father’s leash, I rose to face my day with its challenges, including the worthy challenge of communicating, to the most informed generation ever, these unchanging  truths supplied by the One who Himself became the compass, the Way, for every pain blinded soul or island adrift. May we all sign up for this urgent task.

     

Dwell Retreat Reflections III: Stepping Out... of Burning Ships

     Resolved, Cortez ordering the burning of the ships that had just brought them to the New World;  Resolved, Peter stepping from the boat at Jesus’ invitation to join Him...walking on water; Resolved, the writer, picking up pen or keyboard and pushing past ‘writer’s block’ on toward the ‘battle of the middle’ — that point at which you realize you’ve invested too much to turn back now, but are fully aware that  in this moment you have no idea how you will finish what you have started.

     Coming to America, has often meant being perched, on the edge of a new frontier that necessitates resolve to keep moving forward—the Dwell Writers’ Retreat presented several such steps for me. The plunking down of hard cash for registration and lodging reservation at the top of the year was the first. Another presented itself as our small rental car pulled into the parking spot at the Centrum, Grunewald’s main hub where ‘arrive and check-in’ were to occur.

     As Claude & I alighted, I nervously averted my eyes from the small group of women sitting (how poetic!) under an  apple tree, shouldered my purse, and with resolve, did the only thing I could do at that point..., took the next step.

     The moment after was God’s gift of grace, for no sooner had my eyes picked out the one person who resembled the online picture of my ‘blogger’ friend, Kimberlee, than she flew out of her chair and with the glee that only old girl-friends know, greeted me with a sweet welcome embrace. I realized then that it is possible to get to know someone via the Internet, really!

      I first encountered Kimberlee’s earnestness and devout pursuit of the Divine 4 years ago through her seminal work The Circle of Seasons, about the Church’s liturgical year. Her warm greeting was as genuine in person as she was online. Later in the retreat, as she led us through the lectio divina  (a reading of and meditating in the Scriptures that provides opportunity to open up to the Holy Spirit’s transforming work in our hearts) on Psa. 37, through Communion and  a writing session on the Psalms, my sight was lifted above the earth-bound to things heavenly. But that first morning, as we returned arm in arm to the circle of chairs under the apple tree, amidst introductions and exchange of pleasantries, I realized I was among an entire group of gracious outpouring.

     And outpouring it was, for perhaps the next best thing I found out about the group was that we were the type of writers who loved to ‘tell it’ with our mouths as well as our pens.  In less than a half hour, we had plunged in and exchanged much about our quite varied stories.

     Amy, of The Messy Middle blog fame, was probably my biggest surprise — in all the email & registration exchanges it never occurred to me that she was that Amy: a young veteran of the mission field in China. Her personality was as vibrant as her soul was resourceful— a maestra of the ‘interwebs’ and social network connectivity, who ably tells her own story in her first book, Looming Transitions.

     Then there was Jody, who like a broody hen had worked with Kimberlee to gather us to ‘Dwell’. A conductor, in more than one sense of the word, she somewhat casually steered us through the weekend’s schedule, from quirky welcome packets, to co-leading worship with spunky Laura, and facilitating a loaded session titled ‘Unpacking Psalm 37’.

     Laura’s acoustic guitar chords and the few well-chosen songs were perfect and served me well, both during and after the retreat, as I pressed in to discern God’s purpose in it all. The scope was intimate but the expectation level of this gathering was audacious. Audacious because we were taking our call seriously, some further along than others, but all, investing time and resources — taking the next step, resolved to dwell.

     Twenty-seven years or so before, resolve for me, was saying ‘yes’ to marriage and to migration away from all my familiar. To many back home, no doubt, it looked all rosy and fairy-tale-like, which it was, until the effect of sudden change set in. The new daily-ness tussled for dominance in my change-resistant soul and the stasis of mild depression set in.

     Wish I could say that I had then reached out and embraced the steadying truths of James 1: 5-6,

     “If any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask of God, who gives to all liberally without reproach, and it will be given to him.  But let him ask in faith with no doubting, for he who doubts is like a wave of the sea driven and tossed about by the wind.”

     My first few months as young wife & immigrant found me “driven and tossed about” emotionally.  We were in a misty Midwest Fall & Winter, a fact which, no doubt, both caused as well as mirrored my dark mood.  Christian radio providentially offered the sage but austere advice of the timeless Elizabeth Elliott, “Just do the next thing”, resolve.

     Though I hated to admit it then, it was a a good perspective setter, but I also needed the equally providential input offered by my Jamaican pastor’s wife, Dr. Patricia Morgan who, by telephone, outlined for me the profound transitions (at least seven!) that I was having to make in my new life — unavoidable fallout of the resolve of marriage and migration. She wisely  advised, be gentle with  yourself, ( spend the day in bed if you need to, read, take walks)  but when Claude is almost home, get yourself together and fix him a nice meal; welcome him home…do the next thing.

     The second in my Kansas Sunrise Triad sought to capture that time —

KANSAS SUNRISE (II)

The Next Step

Kansas sunrise, misty grey 
Night that loathes to give way to day 
Earthbound water and heavenly fire 
Tussling to rule, cloud the new day's desire 
To break forth upon the night of man 
So crawling we go to catch-as-catch-can

Striving we go to discern the intangible 
Loathing to take the one step that is possible 
Doubting that in 'the next step' we find 
The way that is open to sighted or blind 
Focusing on the grey swirl that is seen 
We reach forth our arms and embrace the screen

But earth takes its axis so soon night and day 
Make clear to the faithful plodder the way 
With light from above he'll steward the earth 
 For the Creator's nature is shouting forth 
The Truth that draws the final line 
That determines our rise or vain decline

So Kansas sunrise, your cover is blown 
Your bushel of doubt is overthrown 
'The next step' brings the piercing ray

That scatters your shades and brings forth the day 
And now through the dark like an arrow true 
Comes word by the song-bird the day's broken 
through!

            - Denise Stair Armstrong
(c) 1993

     As with my marriage, I had embarked on a ‘no turning back’ kind of venture, with the Dwell Retreat.

     My feet were dangling over the edge as I peered furtively, through my iPad screen at stormy issues of publication, Facebook & blogging.  My inexperience with and fears of the Internet were as giant waves threatening my demise before I even launched.  But I need not have feared, for the One who moves in a mysterious way, already had His footstep planted on this storm in my teacup. And His smiling face bid me come walk with Him…on oceans.

      I did have one poem published and had written a play back home that I understood they still aired at times during Jamaica’s Independence season... But the journey to Leavenworth, Washington was for treasures that  I believed  still awaited, patiently, deep in me; words "...tried like silver in the furnace of the earth, purified seven times” (Ps. 12:6). So, with resolve, my eyes fixed on Him who gives wisdom liberally, without reproach, I stepped out and let that ship burn.