I'll Carry On

Mama, I've got two strong hands
And they're fine as far as hands go
I can shoulder the future, I can face the wind
But the dream that I must follow
It's a dream that can kill with its beauty
It's a hurt that can heal with its pain
And with all of these miles that lie before me
I may never get home again

But I'll carry the songs I learned when we were kids
I'll carry the scars of generations gone by
I'll pray for you always, and I promise you this:
I'll carry on - I'll carry on!

I kissed the earth on my old man's grave
Said goodbye to my brave young companions
When they hoist that sail I know my heart will break
As bright and as fine as the morning
I don't know where this road will take me
But they say there's a place there for a man
And I'm only afraid that my dreams may betray me
And I'll never get home again

But I'll carry the songs I learned when we were kids
I'll carry the scars of generations gone by
I'll pray for you always, and I promise you this:
I'll carry on - I'll carry on!

Oh, I can shoulder the future
I can brave the wind
Oh, we go on - we go on
Will we never get home again?

I'll carry the songs I learned when we were kids
I'll carry the scars of generations gone by
I'll pray for you always, and I promise you this:
I'll carry on - I'll carry on!

-Rich Mullins, A Liturgy, a Legacy, & a Ragamuffin Band, "I'll Carry On"

Image courtesy of floridaadventuring.com

March Miscellany

Time for a hurried and cursory summary of what I've been doing for the last few weeks (besides skiing). It's been a fantastic but very full month.

The grading here at the house went quite smoothly (pun intended) and is now substantially complete. We had to run the well off my small jobsite generator for a few days, until the new electrical line could be laid and connected. However, our new expanse of space was well worth the effort.

I purchased a dual-sport motorcycle back in February, and obtained my M-1 permit shortly thereafter. It's great for zipping down to town, and I've taken several extended rides with David. I think it's a good skill to have, and besides, it's a lot of fun.

In other news, I took and passed the Law and Trade exams for my Contractor's License on Wednesday. Once the License Board finalizes my application, I need only have a Livescan done and post a bond, and I will be a bona fide California General Contractor. [begin shameless bragging] It has taken a lot of sweat and persistence to get to this point, and I'm really proud of myself. This will open up a whole new set of opportunities for my business, and I'm excited about all the possibilities. [/end shameless bragging] Seriously, I really sensed the Lord's hand through the whole process, and I am immeasurably thankful for His blessing and guidance, and also for the support of my family, friends, and clients.

Despite the dearth of book reviews on the blog, I have been reading (as much as possible, anyway). Mostly G. K. Chesterton (Manalive, The Flying Inn, and The Napoleon of Notting Hill), but also some Peter Kreeft (How To Win The Culture War) and Edward Abbey (Desert Solitaire). My single-sentence book review for the last round of titles would consist of the following advice: beg, borrow, or steal a copy of Chesterton's Manalive and read it the first chance you get; it's a wonderful book and has become my favorite work by the venerable G. K.

Most of you know I will be taking an extended trip out to Georgia to spend some time working with a friend. I'm leaving this weekend, and will be gone for about a month. I'd appreciate your prayer cover for health, wisdom, and safe travel. Blogging will be touch-and-go, but with my trusty notepad and camera and not-so-trusty Vista laptop, I will do what I can to keep you abreast of my adventures.

Be God's and Do the Kingdom!

Image courtesy of amazon.com

The Brink

What is
your life?

these few fiery moments
so alive
burnished with hope
gilded with fear
each breath
a comet in my lungs

the future
in the starting-block
my finger
trembling
on the trigger

I hesitate -
savoring
the furious delight
of the unknown
just
a little
long
er

because the present
is so promising
and the future is
so final

This is your life
standing
on the brink
(which is
to say,
on the edge of beyond)
alone
and shivering

oh! to swim!
to love
and fight
to be wrong and
to be right
and dance
with the waves
and drown
laughing

oh! to swim!
to swim and
to sink
down
to the dreary bottom
and rest
"full of days"
(as they used
to say)

today I vow
I will always treasure
the brink
and the beauty
of unfulfilled
dreams

for there is
no greater gift
than two clear eyes
and an endless
horizon... . . . . . . . . . . . .

Image courtesy of interfacelift.com

The Garden Tomb

Our last few days in Israel were slow and relaxed, and a detailed narrative would be tedious both to write and to read. I'm going to wrap up my account of the trip by talking about the Garden Tomb, which was, for me, the most spiritually affecting of any place we visited.

It was our last day in the Holy Land. Joseph and I packed our things for the final time and took a leisurely breakfast, too tired to move very fast. We both wished to spend a good portion of time in prayer and meditation at the Garden Tomb before we left, so we made that our destination for the morning.

As I mentioned previously, the Garden is a unique place within Jerusalem. Unlike many other so-called "Holy Sites," there is in the Garden a strong and inexplicable conviction that this is actually the place. There are no gaudy shrines and no pompous churches, the grounds are tastefully arranged and well-maintained, and the place fits the description given in the Gospels perfectly.

Now in the place where he was crucified there was a garden, and in the garden a new tomb in which no one had yet been laid. So because of the Jewish day of Preparation, since the tomb was close at hand, they laid Jesus there. (John 19:41-42)

In a sense this quiet, secluded compound is the bottleneck of history. The entire plan of God narrowed down to this event, and when it was complete this was the first place to witness the dawn of the new humanity and the new spiritual Eden.

In that moment 2,000 years ago, Christ first opened the door to immortality. The historically unprecedented event we call the Resurrection was the bursting dam through which rushed the wild and rejoicing torrents of Divine grace - "the reckless, raging fury that we call the Love of God."

We have seen that, metaphorically speaking, every man is Jewish. And Jesus is "The King of the Jews" - or, as Romans says, "the firstborn among many brethren." Christ is the "Last Adam," called in 1 Corinthians 15 a "live-giving spirit." Stepping out of the tomb into the warm freshness of Easter morning, with the sunlight on His face and a twinkle in His eye, Christ drew in His first full breaths, and existence kissed eternity for the first time.

As you meet others treading slowly along the winding stone and gravel paths, you can see the awe written on their faces. Like you, they can tell that the place is drenched with the aroma of Christ - with hope for this world and promise for the next. There is a joyful stillness that pervades everything, along with a palpable sense of Christian solidarity.

Many have asked me if visiting these places was life-changing, which is a hard question to answer. It is usually only when we look back that we realize our lives have changed. As I mentioned in an earlier post, I think the Resurrection is the single most important event in the history of Christianity, and being there allowed its reality to sink in in a whole new way, deepening my faith and reminding me of the meaning and majesty of it all.

As we join together and celebrate Easter Sunday this weekend, take some time to ponder the immensity of Christ's sacrifice and the completeness of His victory. Someone has said in reference to Ephesians 2:8 that salvation is the gift of God - God giving Himself to us - and that is the greatest, most scandalously extravagant gift there has ever been or ever will be. The inventor of life invites us to share His sufferings, death, and glory, and further up and further in, the breathless faithful will follow.

I tore off my grave clothes
And cried a pool of tears
For the voice of the Living One
Who spoke the stars and spheres
Has called me from my darkness
And led me to this place
Where the dead leap
And the blind see His face

-Bob Bennett, Lord of the Past: A Compilation, "Still Rolls The Stone"

Image courtesy of gardentomb.com

Beloved

Beloved, these are dangerous times
'Cause you are weightless like a leaf from the vine
And the wind has blown you all over town
'Cause there is nothing holding you to the ground

So now you would rather be
A slave again than free
From the law

Beloved, listen to me
Don’t believe all that you see
And don’t you ever let anyone tell you
That there’s anything that you need
But me

Beloved, these are perilous days
When your culture is so set in it’s ways
That you will listen to salesmen and thieves
Preaching other than the truth you’ve received

Because they are telling lies
For they cannot circumcise
Your hearts

Beloved, listen to me
Don’t believe all that you see
And don’t you ever let anyone tell you
That there’s anything that you need
But me

Beloved, there is nothing more
No more blessings and no more rewards
Than the treasure of my body and blood
Given freely to all daughters and sons

-Derek Webb, She Must And Shall Go Free, "Beloved"

The Sabbath Was Made For Man

And he said to them, "The Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath." -Mark 2:27

I don't remember when it was, but sometime not too long ago it dawned on me that the Sabbath, at it's root, is not a Levitical ordinance. It is actually much deeper; a sacred slice of time that is intimately connected with the creation and character of the universe. It is the tithe of our toil, a quiet moment for us to reflect on life, and in doing so to more accurately grasp it's meaning before it passes us by.

It has been said that leisure is the basis of culture; it takes time for our senses and spirit to awake to the beauty of the world. Leisure, which is only possible in the context of meaningful work, is not to be confused with idleness, which is the absence of work. As Wendell Berry writes, in this brilliant passage from A Continuous Harmony:

A man doing wholesome and meaningful work that he is pleased to do well is three times more at rest than the average factory or office worker on vacation. A man who does meaningless work does not have his meaning at hand. He must go anxiously in search of it - and thus fail to find it. The farmer's Sunday afternoon of sitting at home in the shade of a tree has been replaced by the "long weekend" of a thousand miles. The difference is that the farmer was where he wanted to be, understood the value of being there, and therefore when he had no work to do could sit still. How much have we spent to obscure so simple and obvious a possibility? The point is that there is an indissoluble connection and dependence between work and leisure. The freedom from work must produce not leisure, but an ever more frantic search for something to do.*

So we see that leisure implies labor; rest implies work. The Sabbath is not an idle institution - on the contrary: it is drenched with the consciousness of toil. It is in accord with the sagacious spirit of Ecclesiastes, which says there is nothing better for a man than to pause and rejoice over his labor he has taken under the sun.

When you think about it, having an entire day free from the would-be tyranny of occupational activity is a glorious opportunity for growth and enrichment, both practical and spiritual. As Thomas Cahill says (emphasis mine):

No ancient society before the Jews had a day of rest. The God who made the universe and rested bids us do the same, calling us to a weekly restoration of prayer, study, adn recreation (or re-creation). In this study (or talmud), we have the beginnings of what Nahum Sarna has called "the universal duty of continuous self-education," Israel being the first human society to so value education and the first to envision it as a universal pursuit - and a democratic obligation that those in power must safeguard on behalf of those in their employ. The connections to both freedom and creativity lie just beneath the surface of this commandment: leisure is appropriate to a free people, and this people so recently free find themselves quickly establishing this quiet weekly celebration of their freedom; leisure is the necessary ground for creativity, and a free people are free to imitate the creativity of God. The Sabbath is surely one of the simplest and sanest recommendations any god has ever made; and those who live without such septimanal punctuation are emptier and less resourceful.**

Thus we can see there are several conditions that must be met before we can experience the full benefits of the Sabbath-rest:

1. We must regard the Sabbath as a gift, not a burden.
2. We must be doing meaningful work on other days so we have something to "rest from."
3. We must deliberately and proactively avail ourselves of the liberty to pray, learn, meditate, dream, read, or simply rest.

The Sabbath is more than a day to sleep in and "recover" from our "tough week." It is there to remind us that there is more to life than drudgery and deadlines and dollar bills. It is there to remind us "Life is real - life is earnest / and the grave is not the goal / dust thou art, to dust returnest / was not spoken of the soul."*** It is there to remind us we are free. That we are responsible. That we are responsible to be free.

*Thomas Cahill, Gifts Of The Jews, (New York: Doubleday, 1998), 144
**Wendell Berry, A Continuous Harmony, (Washington, DC: Shoemaker & Hoard, 1972), 113-114
***Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, What The Heart Of The Young Man Said To The Psalmist

Image courtesy of dkimages.com

Two Days in Egypt

I'm going to attempt to cover our two-day trip to Egypt in one long post to keep things more fluid and cohesive. (What - you think I'm just getting lazy? Nonsense!)

We scheduled the overnight tour last-minute, but it worked out really well and was a great value. We left most of our luggage in the rental car and took only our backpacks. As our tour coordinator dropped us off at the Israeli/Egyptian border early Monday morning, he told us what to expect in Cairo: "It looks like chaos, and it is chaos. But - it's authentic chaos."

We met our tour guide, driver, and police escort on the other side of the border. As it turned out, the four of us (Timothy, Brittany, Joseph, and I,) were the only ones on the tour, so we had the van and schedule to ourselves, which was nice.

After leaving Taba, the small Egyptian town on the Israeli border, we headed west into the desert. Our driver tore across the Sinai peninsula at 140-160 km/h, passing any vehicle that happened to be in our way and cutting into the opposite shoulder on the left hand hand curves. I turned to our guide Romani and asked what the speed limit was. He grinned and said "100."

The desert raced by - miles and miles of wind-sculpted sand, tufted sagebrush, and power lines. Between Taba and Cairo there were perhaps a half dozen checkpoints, staffed by police who are working at halting the illegal drug trafficking carried on by desert Bedouins. It seems the intersection of traditional and modern jurisdictions poses unique challenges for law enforcement.

Driving in Egypt is a singular experience; I wouldn't last 5 minutes behind the wheel in Cairo. In a city of 12 million cars, one quickly realizes that the horn is the most valuable part of the vehicle, with the front bumper running a close second. We spontaneously cheered for the driver's more ambitious and dramatic maneuvers; it was that intense.

In Cairo we picked up a second tour guide, a diminutive lady named Hepa who spoke better English and had a remarkably extensive knowledge of Egyptian history. As we drove from one place to another, she rattled off an incessant stream of facts, dates, and legend.

Cairo was built by Arabs in 641 A.D.. Of the 75 million people in Egypt, 20 million make their home in Cairo. (Most of the country is empty desert; the entire population lives on just 4% of the land.) Top sources of National revenue include taxes, oil, tourism, and exports, of which cotton is the most lucrative. The economies here are very politically driven; the price of gas in Egypt was a fraction of what it costs in Israel, just a few hours away.

Monday afternoon we visited the Mosque of Muhammad Ali. Above the courtyard inside the outer enclosure there was a copper clock that was a gift from Louis XVI of France. "It never worked," observed Hepa laughingly.

Egypt is almost entirely Muslim, but there is a significant Christian presence; the Christians comprise 10% of the population and control 40% of the economy. Before 1948, there were upwards of 2 million Jews in Egypt; now only 140 remain - a single synagogue.

Meals were included in the tour, and we took lunch on the second floor of a hotel in Cairo. I must say that the food in Egypt was some of the best we've had throughout the entire trip, and we were ravenously hungry from subsisting almost entirely on Larabars and dried fruit for the past two weeks (punctuated by the occasional pizza).

Before we leave the hotel, I mustn't forget to comment on the wonderful usefulness of Egyptian bathroom attendants. Now you may be wondering: What possible assistance can a bathroom attendant provide? Well, he can turn on the faucet, dispense the soap, and hand you a paper towel, all for the modest fee of 1 pound. Quite a bargain, really.

After lunch we visited the Egyptian Museum in Cairo, a multi-level building full of statues, tombs, and relics. There were no pictures allowed here, so I relied heavily on my handy-dandy notepad.

The metaphysical perspective of ancient Egypt was centered around the after-life. Life was viewed merely as preparation for death, and the wealthier an individual happened to be, the more elaborate the preparations. This metaphysic had interesting economic implications, creating a large and unique industry devoted to mummification, coffins, and tombs. Like Demetrius and his silversmith friends zealously defending the greatness of the goddess Diana, a large part of the Egyptian economy must have been entirely dependent on keeping this otherworldly focus prominent in the national psyche.

It is fascinating to observe the deep meaning ancient civilizations attached to everyday objects; those colorful and distinct ingredients of life such as plows, swords, birds, bread, and plants, etched on shields and statues and coffins. Despite the Egyptians' warped understanding of the universe, and even of existence itself, they somehow grasped the sacramental nature of things: whether objects, words, or symbols to bridge the gap between the two. When placed into a Theistic worldview, I believe this reverence and appreciation for the common stuff of life - something that modern civilization is almost entirely lacking - is natural and healthy. This is why I read agrarian mystics like Wendell Berry or urban aesthetes like G. K. Chesterton. They understand the magic of things.

Many of Egypt's antiquities are housed in British or French museums, and Egypt's requests to have them returned have been refused. When you think about it, it's a rather complicated problem: should these artifacts belong to the discoverers, or rather to their country of origin, heritage, and significance?

I must insert a brief word here concerning the absurd and rather amusing irrelevance of Egyptian metal detectors. As the never-ending stream of people pass through, they buzz continuously, while a few security guards stand by, waving people on. They're detecting metal all right - lots of it. To what purpose, however, I have no idea.

Tuesday we drove out to Giza to see the pyramids and Sphinx. There was a little girl sleeping against the open window in the car next to us, her faded jean jacket unbuttoned at the cuffs, the curls that had escaped her pony tail blowing in the breeze in graceful disorder. What does the world have for her? She was born here no doubt. What will she find when she starts to carve into life? It's a question I don't think Cairo is entirely prepared to answer.

The pyramids were impressive, although for some reason I expected them to be larger. We went inside the great pyramid and climbed up into the King's chamber, which was dark and empty; all the treasures of the tombs were stolen long ago. As G. K. Chesterton predicted, many years after it happened, "If the gold-hunters prevail, these also will lose all their ancient sentiments and all the mystery of their national soul."*

The main thing I remember about visiting the Sphinx is that it was ridiculously crowded - and this is the off-season for tourism! The Mamluks used the Sphinx for target practice - that's the reason the nose is missing.

History imploded
Dark and overloaded
Tombs and tyrants new and old
Sifted through for desert gold

Palaces on quicksand
Time will master all
Can you bind the strong man?
Can you break his fall?

City of the Dead (web photo)

Back in Cairo, we drove past what is called "The City of the Dead" - a cemetery where poor people are forced to make their home among the tombs, clambering over and disturbing the quiet of the dead, because they cannot find anywhere else to live. That community or civilization is in much better health that can still maintain a reverent separation between the living and the dead - possibly minimal but at least clearly marked.

We toured a number of Coptic churches and heard about enough wars and dates and canonized saints to make your head swim.

After doing some shopping and learning about how papyrus is made, we enjoyed a wonderful buffet lunch on the eastern bank of the Nile: steak, rice, beets, pitas, bell peppers, eggplant, and hummus. Delectable.

We concluded our tour with a short cruise out on the Nile, upriver through central Cairo, before climbing into the van and heading back to Taba. I enjoyed some strong Turkish coffee at a rest stop on the west bank of the Suez; the others had tea. We cleared the border back into Israel sometime before midnight, thoroughly exhausted. Time to hit the hay. Shalom and Good Night!

*G. K. Chesterton, The Napoleon of Notting Hill, (New York: Cosimo Classics, 2007), 75

Life as a Yo-Yo

Sometimes, despite your best laid plans, things just flop. It turns out David and I are not going to Redding yesterday after all, because the friends we were going to see are sick with the flu. Right now we're tentatively set to go next week.

We're disappointed, but this freed me up to do the Israel night this week that was canceled last month because of sickness. I suppose it all evens out in the end.

Happenings

For the gallant few who read this blog, here's a snapshot of what I've been doing lately. Things have been crazy, but it's been a good kind of crazy.

Last week I was busy digging trenches and running new water and electrical lines in preparation for a large grading project here at the house. This weekend, David and I attended the annual Search & Rescue snow training for the second time, shuttling trainees up and down the road on snowmobiles and sleeping in a snow cave at 8,000 ft. It was a blast.

Right now I'm packing for a week of finish carpentry and skiing up in Redding. David and I hope to leave in about an hour. I have yet to finish blogging the Israel trip, and I have a long list of other topics I want to explore and books I need to review.

As my Great-Grandfather used to say "Sleep when you die!"