Showing posts from October, 2015

Answer us, O Lord

1 Kings 18:20- 40 Once upon a time, there was a prophet in the northern kingdom of Israel named Elijah. A man of God, fearless and brave. He used to confront King Ahab and his wife, a priestess and daughter of a foreign king, Queen Jezebel, and Elijah caused all sorts of upset for them in the kingdom. One day, a most famous incident occurred.   Elijah the prophet proposed a face-off between the God of Israel, Yahweh, and the god that Jezebel had imported in and Ahab had propped up alongside Yahweh, Baal.   The showdown was epic, on the top of a mountain everyone gathered, 450 prophets of Baal on one side, Lone Elijah on the other. Get your god to answer, was the challenge.   Set up a sacrifice and get your god to show up.   Whoever does is the real god.   Up first, the prophets of Baal, the god of lightening and fire. They cut up their ox and laid it on their alter with firewood underneath and began begging Baal to start it on fire.   All morning long they ple

This sacred life, the ongoing conversation

King David Playing the Harp, 1622, Gerard van Honthorst 1 Samuel 16:1-13  and  2 Samuel 6:1-5 I have kept a journal almost since I could write.  The early ones are sporadic, fancy satin covered or beaded, pretty and impractical – age 8 on vacation with my family, complaining about my little sister, age 11 on a visit to my far away best friend Christy, who was showing signs of puberty earlier than I was.  Then in junior high, at just about the most awkward time in a person’s life, the journaling became a bit more regular.  I taught myself the Greek alphabet from a textbook in my father’s office, and a friend and I became prolific in writing in pseudo-Greek, so whole swatches of my journals from then are written in code, as though so intensely private I needed to hide these thoughts even from myself if I was going to get them out into the light of day. I could write in my “Greek” as fast as in English. By high school journaling became a coping mechanism, a