Do you remember climbing trees as a kid? The big maple in the backyard, the tall oak in the far corner of the corn field, the quiet pine standing as a second steeple next to the church; each offering a new world to explore. It could sometimes be a little scary, was often exciting, but always a lot of fun. As we scaled the trunk, hand over hand, foot in notch; we’d soon find ourselves having achieved a dangerous height.  Should we misstep or lose our grip now, our fall could be deadly. Nearer the top of the tree and at the end of our climb, we began testing the limb we thought of stepping out on. Before we put all our weight on a branch, we inspected it the best we could.

For those in the Christian faith, climbing the old, lovely tree planted by the water has us also ascending to some fearful heights. Not every branch we’re asked to believe in seems as sturdy as we’d like. One limb we’re particularly shy about putting all our weight on is the promise of God’s healing power meeting an immediate need in our lives. As we examine this belief, we discover that the limb comes off  the trunk and is rooted, is alive with foliage and fruit, and looks strong enough. But just how strong and full of life is it? Can it handle the load of the things burdening my life? We shouldn’t live out our faith bear-hugging the trunk; but we shouldn’t wager our peace by taking fliers on the unfounded either. To help us think through this struggle, Andrew Wilson has written a wonderful article for an old issue of Christianity Today. In God Always Heals we learn a helpful perspective from a theological Tarzan. It should offer us a good hand-up for this Sunday’s climb. See you then!

 

Click here to read this week’s article

There’s great power in a pathway.  When out for a wandering walk, we’re more apt to follow a path than make our own.  Though field and forest, mountain and meadow be open before us; we usually default to what is mown, paved, salted, or blazed.  Those who first made these ways, whether deer,  trader, courier, or civic planner, exercised tremendous power in directing future footsteps.

What’s true for traffic on land is also true for traffic in thought and feeling.  Our hearts and minds tend to wander on the broad and banked pathways paved by those looking to speed all traffic past what might lead to heaven and onward to what most certainly will dead-end at the gates of hell.  Following Jesus requires that every disciple take the next exit off the highway for the slower, narrower, and more ponderous path.  As the wonderful summer months are now upon us, it would be good to consider how we might make the best use of opportunities to slow down and recreate a bit.  To that end, two readings for this week’s discussion.  First is an excerpt from Pirsig’s classic, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance.  The second is A Forest Hymn; a poem by famed American poet William Cullen Bryant.  Of the two, the poem is the more difficult read, but give it a shot.  There’s a lot of encouragement in these two readings for our project of knowing and living a more authentic faith.  I’m looking forward to the discussion!

 

Click here for Pirsig’s “Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance”

 

Click here for Bryant’s “A Forest Hymn”