dual personalities

Category: Spirituality

“Team free will 2.0”*

by chuckofish

I always read the NYT obituaries. They let us know when the famous, as well as some pretty obscure people, pass away. However, they failed to note the death of one of the giants of reformed Christianity–R.C. Sproul last week.

rc_sproul-300x227.jpg

I guess they are unwilling to acknowledge evangelicals even when their leaders die. Sigh. As you know, I am a member of one of the most liberal denominations out there, but I can appreciate a man like Sproul for his devotion to the Bible and his passionate belief in salvation by grace alone through faith alone in Christ based on Scripture alone for the glory of God alone. (AMEN) Shame on the NYT for the umpteenth time.

While we are on the subject of obituaries, here is the 2017 TCM Remembers video:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Uae_iodwpvg

This annual video is always a sad reminder of those familiar faces who have passed out of this world, but who will forever remain on film.

On a cheerier note, here is a new rendition of a familiar Christmas carol. We sing this spiritual at our church and never get it right. But I like this version.

Tomorrow I start my own personal winter break and I can’t wait!

*Dean Winchester

3ed64657239ca4d44e58f0a2df9b0ec2

“Therefore we sing to greet our King; forever let our praises ring.”*

by chuckofish

24879950_10103460256280814_4982933235096532581_o copy.jpg

After my busy weekend I feel like the wee laddie in the photo above. Pooped. He had conked out after sitting on my lap through his mother’s graduation ceremony on Saturday morning. The wee lassie had just woken up in this picture and was a tad grumpy. If they had had a clue what was going on, they would have been very proud of their hard-working mama. Yes, daughter #3, having started an EdD degree as a part-time “night” student several years ago, persevered through her husband having cancer, the birth of premature twins and daily trips to the NICU for 100+ days, while holding down a full-time job, to finish. It can be done and she’s proof. Huzzah.

I will add that when daughter #3 went up on stage to be hooded, Lottie, who was standing on her other grandmother’s lap, said in a loud voice, “DA-DA!”

IMG_2988.JPGAfter the ceremony, the OM and I went home and I rolled up my sleeves while the OM got comfortable in his recliner. In fact, I was a whirling dervish of activity, wrapping presents to mail out of town, wrapping more presents, cleaning up, decorating the small tree,

IMG_2989

Not the best little tree we’ve ever had, but pretty nevertheless!

setting the table (minus one leaf which went down to the basement), addressing Christmas cards…I got a lot done. We even went out to dinner with dear friends. But I was pretty tired by Sunday evening, when I had to get dressed up again and trudge over to church for Lessons and Carols.

I read the first lesson, the one about Adam and Eve in the garden when they sew fig leaves together and make loincloths for themselves. I enjoyed reading it. “I heard the sound of you in the garden, and I was afraid, because I was naked, and I hid myself.”

Screen Shot 2017-12-10 at 3.51.05 PM.pngWe sang five good Advent hymns, including my favorite, #265,  by Sabine Baring-Gould. It is in a key I can never get my voice around, though, and I always feel like I  must sound like Cyril Richard as Captain Hook in Peter Pan.

Well, it was quelle busy weekend as expected, but a good one. Here’s one of our favorite scenes from A Christmas Story (1983) –It makes me glad that I don’t have to go out and do more shopping! Well…not much more shopping…

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qS9L8wjXBEk

Don’t bother me…I’m thinking!

*Hymn #61, Carl P. Daw, Jr.

Mid-week look back

by chuckofish

Back in December of 1866 a group of men and women met at the home of William H. Colcord to form a church which would become one of the largest and most influential independent Protestant churches in the city, Pilgrim Congregational Church.

A Gothic-style building was dedicated in 1872, but the growing congregation moved to its present location at Union and Kensington in 1907.

MG_6716.jpg

MG_6720-e1449467911896.jpg

The “new” building, an imposing pink granite structure designed by Mauran, Russell and Garden, is not what I think of us as your typical Congregational church, but this is not New England. The OM’s grandmother attended church there, as did his  mother growing up. His parents were married there. I remember going there once. The OM says it was to hear John Anderson, the presidential candidate, speak in 1980, but I have no memory of that event.

Anyway, the church still stands near other distinguished west-end institutions: Soldan High School, designed by William Ittner and attended by Tennessee Williams,

4b4f6dd72e99782ae1522f11799222da--boulevard-st-louis.jpg

Union Avenue Christian Church,

unionavenuechristian19.jpg

Westminster Presbyterian,

IMG_4101.JPG

and the former Young Men’s Hebrew Association headquarters.

e7bf45760efec5baaf564770712aa22b--st-louis-mo-built-environment.jpg

The neighborhood is much changed from its former heyday, but the churches keep going. Union Avenue Christian Church is now the home of the Union Avenue Opera, and the church is still vibrant with a strong commitment to remain as a faith community at their urban location.

O Lord Jesus, with whom we have passed another Christian year, following thee from thy birth in our flesh to thy sufferings and triumph, and listening to the utterances and counsels of thy Spirit: Even thus would we also end this year of grace, and stand complete in thee our Righteousness; humbly beseeching thee that we may evermore continue in thy faith and abide in thy love; who liveth and reigneth with the Father and the Holy Spirit, one God, world without end.

–Henry Alford

We all need to hang in there.

(The photos of Pilgrim Church are from Chris Naffziger, St. Louis Patina; the rest from google)

“Yea, amen! let all adore thee”*

by chuckofish

Well, I bought our wreath from the Boy Scouts, our two trees from the Optimists and daughter #1 and I put up the outside Christmas lights. Mission(s) accomplished!

IMG_1868.JPG

Quelle busy weekend, but, in fact, very fun. We babysat the wee babes on Friday night and managed to wrestle them into their pajamas and bed. On Saturday, daughter #1 and I went to our church Christmas bazaar and cookie sale where I got a few used books and rescued a treasure or two.

IMG_2985.JPG

Then we went to the birthday party for the wee babes who were, it turned out, not in the mood for a big noisy party. They both suffered major melt-downs from the get-go. C’est la vie.

Screen Shot 2017-12-03 at 3.48.12 PM.png

Screen Shot 2017-12-03 at 3.48.30 PM.png

They are both teething ferociously and life is hard right now. Well, on to Christmas and more photo ops.

We came home and watched Miracle on 34th Street (1947) and drank wine and had a chip-fest. Perfect. We even watched one of the special features and found out, among other fun facts, that Edmund Gwenn really filled in as Santa at the 1946 Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade, including addressing the crowd following the parade. That is pretty cool.

 

miracle-on-34th-street-1947-santa-claus.jpg

Church on Sunday was Advent I and we sang some good Advent hymns.

Turn up the volume and listen to this wonderful rendition of a great Charles Wesley hymn!

And the super moon was really awesome!

FullSizeRender.jpeg

Happy Advent!

*Hymn #57

Love your life

by chuckofish

autumn-woods-1886.jpg

Tuesday when I was driving home it happened to be just the right time to experience those few moments known as “the Golden Hour” –when the sun is just at the point on the horizon that the light is redder and softer than usual. At this time of year, it hits the golden and orange leaves of the trees and turns them into molten gold.

Anyway, I was trying to stay on the road while looking east at the trees and not burst into tears. Does this happen to you? Happily I made it safely to the grocery store where I then got a look at an amazing sunset right there in the parking lot. The horizon was a blazing orange under a ceiling of clouds. Amazing!

Then I went in and bought my food. The most incredible stuff goes on around us all the time!

I have quoted this before, but it bears repeating:

“However mean your life is, meet it and live it; do not shun it and call it hard names. It is not so bad as you are. It looks poorest when you are richest. The fault-finder will find faults even in paradise. Love your life, poor as it is. You may perhaps have some pleasant, thrilling, glorious hours, even in a poorhouse. The setting sun is reflected from the windows of the almshouse as brightly as from the rich man’s abode; the snow melts before its door as early in the spring. I do not see but a quiet mind may live as contentedly there, and have as cheering thoughts, as in a palace.”
―Henry David Thoreau, Walden 

Happy Thanksgiving!

(The painting is by Albert Bierstadt, 1886)

Thoughts and (more) prayers

by chuckofish

Do you need a little mid-week pick-me-up? Mandisa will lift your spirits! Don’t be embarrassed–sing along!

Here’s a thought for today from Frederick Buechner:

“God speaks to us, I would say, much more often than we realize or than we choose to realize. Before the sun sets every evening, he speaks to each of us in an intensely personal and unmistakable way. His message is not written out in starlight, which in the long run would make no difference; rather it is written out for each of us in the humdrum, helter-skelter events of each day; it is a message that in the long run might just make all the difference. Who knows what he will say to me today or to you today or into the midst of what kind of unlikely moment he will choose to say it. Not knowing is what makes today a holy mystery as every day is a holy mystery. But I believe that there are some things that by and large God is always saying to each of us. Each of us, for instance, carries around inside himself, I believe, a certain emptiness—a sense that something is missing, a restlessness, the deep feeling that somehow all is not right inside his skin. Psychologists sometimes call it anxiety, theologians sometimes call it estrangement, but whatever you call it, I doubt that there are many who do not recognize the experience itself, especially no one of our age, which has been variously termed the age of anxiety, the lost generation, the beat generation, the lonely crowd. Part of the inner world of everyone is this sense of emptiness, unease, incompleteness, and I believe that this in itself is a word from God, that this is the sound that God’s voice makes in a world that has explained him away. In such a world, I suspect that maybe God speaks to us most clearly through his silence, his absence, so that we know him best through our missing him. But he also speaks to us about ourselves, about what he wants us to do and what he wants us to become; and this is the area where I believe that we know so much more about him than we admit even to ourselves, where people hear God speak even if they do not believe in him. A face comes toward us down the street. Do we raise our eyes or do we keep them lowered, passing by in silence? Somebody says something about somebody else, and what he says happens to be not only cruel but also funny, and everybody laughs. Do we laugh too, or do we speak the truth? When a friend has hurt us, do we take pleasure in hating him, because hate has its pleasures as well as love, or do we try to build back some flimsy little bridge? Sometimes when we are alone, thoughts come swarming into our heads like bees—some of them destructive, ugly, self-defeating thoughts, some of them creative and glad. Which thoughts do we choose to think then, as much as we have the choice? Will we be brave today or a coward today? Not in some big way probably but in some little foolish way, yet brave still. Will we be honest today or a liar? Just some little pint-sized honesty, but honest still. Will we be a friend or cold as ice today? All the absurd little meetings, decisions, inner skirmishes that go to make up our days. It all adds up to very little, and yet it all adds up to very much. Our days are full of nonsense, and yet not, because it is precisely into the nonsense of our days that God speaks to us words of great significance—not words that are written in the stars but words that are written into the raw stuff and nonsense of our days, which are not nonsense just because God speaks into the midst of them. And the words that he says, to each of us differently, are be brave…be merciful…feed my lambs…press on toward the goal.”

And here’s a prayer for today:

“Much as we wish, not one of us can bring back yesterday or shape tomorrow. Only today is ours, and it will not be ours for long, and once it is gone it will never in all time be ours again. Thou only knowest what it holds in store for us, yet even we know something of what it will hold. The chance to speak the truth, to show mercy, to ease another’s burden. The chance to resist evil, to remember all the good times and good people of our past, to be brave, to be strong, to be glad.”

–Frederick Buechner, The Hungering Dark

And did you know that November is Prematurity Awareness Month? The wee babes are literally poster kids for it!

Screen Shot 2017-11-14 at 2.16.49 PM.png

“Be Thou our guard while troubles last, And our eternal home.”*

by chuckofish

samuel-seabury-1729-1796-granger.jpg

Today the Episcopal Church celebrates the feast day of Samuel Seabury (November 30, 1729 – February 25, 1796) who was the first American Episcopal bishop and the second Presiding Bishop of the Episcopal Church in the U.S.A.

seabury_2.jpg

In the years leading up to the American Revolution, Seabury earned a reputation as a staunch defender of the Church of England. During his participation in the founding of King’s College (Columbia University) his four Loyalist pamphlets from “A.W. Farmer” (or Letters from a Westchester Farmer) incurred the rage of American patriots.

Despite his anti-Revolutionary sentiments, Seabury became increasingly concerned that the Colonies needed a bishop. His adversaries, especially the Congregationalists, regarded such a move as a further encroachment of the Church of England, and thus the English Crown, upon the American Colonies. But Anglicans supportive of the American Revolution–George Washington among them–could no longer comfortably worship and take communion in a church officially tied with King George III. Thus, the Episcopal Church came into existence.

Seabury sailed for England in 1783 for his consecration, because even though the Episcopal Church was formally separate from the Church of England, it was still spiritually and theologically aligned. Another awkward situation, to say the least. So awkward, in fact, that the Anglican Church refused to consecrate Seabury. So Seabury turned to the Scottish Church, which granted his request. Bishop Seabury then returned to America to bolster and expand the Episcopal Church in the newly recognized United States of America.

You may recall that there used to be a seminary named in Seabury’s honor–Seabury-Western Seminary in Evanston, Illinois. However, it ceased operations as a residential seminary granting the Master of Divinity degree in May 2010, and in January 2012 it moved from Evanston to the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America headquarters. In 2013, it joined with Bexley Hall and became part of the Bexley Hall Seabury Western Theological Seminary Federation.

There are now ten accredited seminaries of the shrinking Episcopal Church. One can’t help but wonder what old Samuel Seabury would think of his turmoil-torn Church these days.

Eternal God, you blessed your servant Samuel Seabury with the gift of perseverance to renew the Anglican inheritance in North America: Grant that, joined together in unity with our bishops and nourished by your holy Sacraments, we may proclaim the Gospel of redemption with apostolic zeal; through Jesus Christ, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

As for this, no comment.

*Isaac Watts, O God, our help in ages past, Our hope for years to come, Be Thou our guard while troubles last, And our eternal home.

Pray, and praise thee without ceasing*

by chuckofish

In church on Sunday I got to read I Thessalonians 4:13-18 wherein Paul attempts to prepare the Thessalonians for the return of Jesus when they will be reunited with all those who have died in Christ: For the Lord himself, with a cry of command, with the archangel’s call and with the sound of God’s trumpet, will descend from heaven, and the dead in Christ will rise first.

Good stuff.

The weekend was a busy one and a fun one! We did all the things on our to-do list, plus more things, like grocery shopping, laundry and vacuuming! But we never connected with the wee babes. Their parents are busy too. Oh well, c’est la vie.

babes.jpg

Another busy work week looms with another event at the end on Friday. Onward and upward.

*Hymn 657, Charles Wesley

Thoughts and (more) prayers

by chuckofish

texas-church-shooting-15-ap-jc-171105_4x3_992.jpg

I was going to say something about the latest mass shooting and how thoughts and prayers are openly mocked in this country, but I just can’t. I thought this, written by Ravi Zacharias about this atrocity, was right to the point.

Our only hope is in the Lord.

“See what love the Father has given us, that we should be called children of God”*

by chuckofish

As you know, Sunday was All Saints’ Sunday when we remember those who have gone before us in the faith. It is a long service, made longer this year by three baptisms and it was also Pledge Sunday! I didn’t mind, especially since we had a piper and a cake afterwards.

My busy weekend flew by as expected. I got up early on Saturday morning to meet one of my oldest BFFs from high school who was in town. We gathered for coffee with a few other HS friends that I see infrequently and a gabfest ensued.

After returning home, daughter # 1 arrived and we headed out to a few estate sales and lunch. We were successful, picking up some wooden cup and saucer holders and silver trays–the things no one seems to want anymore, but for which I am always looking. I also bought this very cool photo enlargement of the St. Louis levee in 1869.

IMG_2969.JPG

How cool is that? I’m not sure where I will put it, but for $5, I’m not worrying.

We headed over to babysit the wee babes at 5:00 p.m. The boy and daughter #3 left for their wedding and we settled in with the wee babes. Daughter #1 had brought her bluetooth speaker/phone and we played the soundtrack to Peter Pan, entertaining the wee babes with our singalong and dancing talents: I’ll just call on Tiger-Lily! I’ll just call on Peter Pan! We’ll be coming willy, nilly, Lily! They were duly impressed. Anyway, all this gaiety wore them out and put them in the mood for eating dinner and bedtime.

We watched a little Moana and they were soon down for the count.

1200x630bb.jpg

Indeed, the evening went quite well except for one huge diaper blow-out with green poop up Lottie’s back to her neck. That onesie is toast.

The grownups started to watch Miss Congeniality II and then I fell asleep. Par for the course.

Daughter #1 headed back to Columbia before church the next morning.  I puttered around after church, catching up on laundry and dusting. I put away my halloween candles and got out my pilgrims and indians.

IMG_2971.JPG

IMG_2970.JPGSunday night the OM and I Ubered to terra incognita to see an old friend perform a cabaret to a sold out audience of friends and family.

IMG_2973.JPG

She sang a lot of old standards–Sondheim, Porter, Nelly, and my favorite–a Guys and Dolls medley–with witty chatter in between songs. I have known Cindy since I was in second grade and we went to school and church together and college too. She has been a successful banker and headhunter, but always in her heart, wanted to be a Broadway star. So for one night she was.

IMG_2972.JPG

More power to her for her courage and chutspah! She gets the “You go, girl!” award this week.

I leave you with this classic snap of the wee babes, which the boy texted me yesterday.

Screen Shot 2017-11-05 at 4.02.05 PM.png

Haha. Enjoy the day!

*I John 3:1