I Love to Write

I love to write,
and these days, it's virtually all done via the keyboard.
But writing it is:
Words, phrases, paragraphs -
always amazing to me how things flow, or not ...
how the right word at the wrong place,
or the wrong word at the right place,
doesn't fly.

So, try it again ...
delete ...
add a new word,
play with the old,
reposition, eliminate, add, twist and bend the sentence,
the paragraph ... like clay in a sculpture's hand - squeeze and push and shape and change ...

And with a little luck, or grace, or mercy.
Something takes shape.
An idea is expressed.
Insight offered.
Or a good joke.
Or just plain silliness.

Or a matter of life and death.
Social issues.
History and philosophy.

Or maybe a recipe.
Two cups of milk and some flour.
Some oregano and thyme.

Or a cry for justice.
A prayer for peace.
A tear for a family's loss.

Or maybe just a rant and a rave.
When complaint seems to be the only recourse.
The only thing that makes sense.
Because a rant and a rave still shed light on the issue.
This is the reason we're in trouble.
This is the problem.

We don't always have to solve it.
But examine it we must.
From every angle
Like a good detective holding a piece of evidence.
From whence did it come?
Who put it there?
What did it do?
If not who, then how?

And maybe the idea will sparkle a bit.
Maybe the Word will again become flesh.
And dwell among us.

Is not this the goal of every writer?
I think so.
That the word would become flesh.
And maybe, just maybe, we could see some glory.

I love to write.

Words ...

Words ...


A word isn't really word until it's embraced in a sentence of some sort.


That's what a word is all about ... the words that precede and follow it ... and depending on those words, the word itself might take on many a shade of meaning ... perhaps this or that ... or maybe not ... or maybe ...


Hinting at what it means ... leaving the final decision up to us ... for good or for ill ... up to us.


How to string words together ... in familiar patterns that comfort with their familiarity ... or in discomfiting ways, that catch our attention and arouse uneasiness ...


Words are not easy ... every try to catch smoke?


Words convey the mysteries of life ... from the salacious to the salubrious ... our highest hopes of a better world to the bitterness of disappointment ... trying, trying, trying, to understand what is always just beyond the tip of the finger, defying our gasp ... eluding us, and quickly pecking our cheek with an enticing kiss that keeps us alive and alert and still seeking to find ... slipping away at the moment of embrace ... laughing ... deriding ... beckoning ... and maybe we continue ... or maybe we retire from the field for a drink ...


Words ... they're all we have ... no matter the language, though other languages capture their own reality in their own way ... and it pays to know something about other languages other than one's own ... even a few words of another can shed light on whatever it is we seek.


And who knows what we seek?


If it isn't one thing, it's another ...


The human spirit is restless ... always seeking ... never finding ... at least anything permanent ... but only the passing, the fragments, like a good lunch that satisfies until about 6 o'clock, and then hunger once again ... and so we get out our victuals, and turn on the stove ... and get out our dictionaries, and take up our pen, or the keyboard ... and we prepare something to satisfy ... and we know, to satisfy, only for a time.


Words ... strange critters ...


They're all we have.

Good Preaching!

Good preaching - okay, I'll have a go at it.

Preparation, preparation, preparation - and that's many years, and still learning, still preparing.

Writing, writing, writing - nothing hones the mind, the thoughts, the ability to give expression to the inexpressible. 

Humility, humility, humility - give it your best shot, and know that it fell short. Period! It was probably good, but there's always another Sunday.

Trust, trust, trust - when spoken in hope for the wellbeing of another, a changed social condition, the welfare of the world, God does something with such efforts.

Energy, energy, energy - deep and penetrating care for the Word, the world, scholarship, politics and hope. If you care about it, preach about it. If you don't care deeply, find something about which you care deeply, and go from there. At such a point, a little pulpit-pounding might just happen, and that's okay, too.

To this, I'd add: use a text, or something similar there to. Have the notes at hand, and let the congregation know that you produced something requiring labor as well as spirit.

Use a lectern, or pulpit - waltzing around on the chancel, platform, is mostly a preacher-centered look-at-me device.

Anyone with thespian proclivities can dazzle an audience, but preaching isn't about dazzle, it's about grace and justice, and those are both amazing things and hard things, requiring a lot of emotional and intellectual effort well-harnessed by training, by sermon-text and by humility.

Nothing wrong with flair - let the Spirit lead, but like a horse, if the preacher is going to pull the wagon, some serious equipment/equipping is needed. Dashing off here and there across the field may be pretty to watch, but in the end, to be of value, the horse is harnessed for the day's work.

Well, that's enough for this morning ... a Sunday morning in Amsterdam.