You may sense it in the call of a Canada goose in flight a longing strong enough to carry an entire flock to their destination You may feel it in the grumble of a distant storm that dark dissatisfaction at what is in comparison with what will be The people who should never let us down let us down The cabin roof groans with the weight of so much snow The stairs in the old farmhouse complain with every footstep even with the memory of feet that move no longer The branches of an enormous oak moan in the high wind You many hear it in the spirituals nurtured in the cotton fields of the deep south a deep sorrow at temporal hopelessness distilled into hope for beyond Comin’ for to carry me home You may think you merely imagine it in the whistle of a train as it rumbles through a midnight crossing but the tracks through BC’s mountains were laid with the blood of Chinese navvies the sweat of abandoned dreams & the boxcars rolling through the prairies during the depression carried the last hope of the unemployed Don’t imagine that that wail has nothing to do with human grief Sometimes our wounds heal completely sometimes they leave a scar A woman learns of cancer in her breast a man finds his heart is failing We fall to our knees for a miracle & are startled when an answer seems to come a taste of what will be Hear the wind in the cavity where the siding is loose Hear it banging against the wall Sometimes our wounds don’t heal at all We fall to our knees but the sky grows grey featureless & silent We long for what we had what we almost had what will be You may sense it in the stillness of a beaver pond or in the rush over Niagara You may see it in the sunflower pushing through the soil reaching for the sky for the sun When we most identify with this world we are least content
Like many John Le Carré novels, The Constant Gardener boasts a gripping, intricately plotted narrative that makes it ideal for the movies. In the years since the Berlin Wall tumbled and the Soviet Union collapsed, the master of the cold war espionage thriller has turned his attention to thorny moral issues in other parts of the world.
as through a glass darkly meant a window to my child’s eyes, probably at night, or perhaps it was the frown our mothers told us God might make permanent so we’d better cut it out, that dark look we got sent to our rooms for, but when mirror was finally identified, like looking glass someone explained, I understood face to face only was that God’s face lurking behind mine as I peered at the medicine chest in the morning or would we have eyes at all if we made it to heaven, drowning like moths in a sea of light.
Everything In Between Self-released, Christian rock Danny Oertli Balancing all-American rock with ballads, Danny Oertli is a Christian musician with a difference. When he sings "Thank You, Jesus, for keeping hope alive" on "Mommy Paints the Sky," he know what he's singing about—the song is inspired by the death of his high-school sweetheart, who had become his wife. In the same album, Oertli proves he can rock in "Fight for Me" (with its dirty Wurlitzer electric piano) and in the breathless, pulsing "Nothing."
For just this day I thank you, Lord—this day when in a new and lonely empty place appeared a friend with whom I could retrace through forty years an undeserved array of other moments shared, and so survey as back across a pathless hillside face a hidden net of tangled trails where grace had always, always canopied the way. The bits of furniture he left behind will be of course in constant, welcome use but they will also serve as types that bind with unseen ligaments of love my loose days here to many others far apart in space and time but very near in heart.
A curving trail—the callused field obscures it until we shovel out the clotted brick, lug a ton or two of sand to fit trenches, level rumpled earth, correct courses. A mallet stuns a thumb, new blisters bud as self-impressed we shout, “This row is done!” but then a kid names names, prefers George Toad, Kate Cricket, slaps William Mosquito, pats Barkly, unleashed, our best company. We rest and share cold drinks. David brings homemade muffins, burned, blueberry plenty. Sun flickers around us, summer’s wings. Yet sand, we need more sand! Deer watch from trees while we adjust the pathways on our knees.
Philosopher Michael Ruse is an ardent evolutionist and unbeliever, but he often comes to the defense of believers who are under fire from militant atheists like Richard Dawkins. Ruse says his sympathetic stance toward religion is partly due to his Quaker upbringing. “I grew up surrounded by gentle, loving (and very intelligent) Christians. I never forget that,” said Ruse. He also objects to what he regards as bad atheist arguments. Evolution explains the existence of religion as an adaptive mechanism, but that doesn’t necessarily explain it away. “It is as plausible that my love of Mozart’s operas is a byproduct of adaptation, but it doesn’t make them any the less beautiful and meaningful,” Ruse said (New York Times interview, July 8).