Green River strolls lazily along,
Draws me onward
Only forward,
No going back.
Layers of emerald canopy glisten,
Diamonds pressed from a
Light and momentary storm.
Muddy path meanders, sometimes
Near the river, others not,
Falling, rising again,
Tracing undulating hills.
Is there a destination or
Only wandering?
The river seems to know
Where it’s going.
Why not the path?
Gentle whisper—
Is it water? Breeze? Rain?
Soundless river, motionless leaves,
No drips in the puddle before me.
My ears do not betray the
Voice speaking to me.
I lean into the not knowing.
I lose my way a few times, but
Then I am found again.
Grace, signposts.
Slippery trail has
Knocked me down, but
Each time I get up.
Green, glistening woods are
Worth being muddy and bruised.
There is a destination after all—
My true love
Calls my name from
Just beyond the edge of the woods, and
Off I go.
David K. Carpenter
June 6, 2021
Photos taken in the woods along the Green River as it winds its way through Mammoth Cave National Park in Kentucky.
At a time like this, on a weekend extended for this reason, we should take a moment of silent reflection. At a time when our nation is so deeply divided, with political factions threatening to tear the very threads at the foundation of our country, we should set those differences aside. Regardless of our political beliefs, we should all assume a quiet posture of humility and gratitude for those brave and heroic women and men who made the ultimate sacrifice to protect the freedom we have to express our opinions.
Although Memorial Day is set aside specifically to remember fallen soldiers, and as important as that is, I think it is no less heroic to walk into battle, towards the gates of hell, and come away with your life. So it is that, with humble gratitude, I thank all those women and men who have served in the armed forces to protect our liberty. God bless you all, and may God continue to bless America.
One last thing: it is OK–in fact, it is necessary for good mental health–to mourn our losses. This can be the loss of loved ones in battle–as is the focus of this Memorial Day weekend–or it can be other friends or family members we’ve lost in other ways. The loss of a job, or some other significant loss of a way of life. The loss of a political battle. Any loss needs to be mourned, and therefore processed through the stages of grief, in order to avoid becoming an ongoing obstacle to our mental health and stability.
In fact, in the very first sermon Jesus preached, right at the start of his ministry, he quoted from Isaiah (see Luke 4:18-19, for example):
The Spirit of the Sovereign LORD is on me, because the LORD has anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners, to proclaim the year of the LORD’s favor and the day of vengeance of our God, to comfort all who mourn, and provide for those who grieve in Zion — to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair. They will be called oaks of righteousness, a planting of the LORD for the display of his splendor.
Mourning is the first step in the journey of healing. Let us not shy away from this path, for we are a people of hope. The only way to be called “oaks of righteousness” and “a planting of the LORD for the display of his splendor” is to struggle through the valley of darkness and despair and come out the other side, bursting forth into the Light. That is where we can and will shake the ashes out of our hair and put on our crowns of beauty.
Here in Colorado, it’s not terribly common for us to have gloomy weather for extended periods of time. And although we’re not quite there yet this season, the on again/off again rain lately caught me on my hikes both days this weekend. I don’t know if my dog will ever forgive me. In fact, after yesterday’s sudden outburst of hail, thunder, and torrential rain, today she looked at me in a way that seemed to ask, “Are you sure it’s not going to do that on today’s hike?” I shrugged my shoulders and said, “I don’t know, let’s go find out.”
As I said, she may never trust me again.
Anyway, during today’s muddy, wet adventure, a couple things occurred to me that I thought would be worth sharing.
First, I remembered times when I’ve flown on a rainy day. Anyone who has taken off from Denver International Airport knows that on a good day, you’re in for a bumpy ride, given the seemingly random and swirling winds that toss our giant metal tube about like it’s a paper airplane. Rain and thunderstorms only add to the harrowing adventure.
But here’s the thing. Just when the flight is as turbulent as it can be, and the woman across the aisle is filling her barf bag, and I begin to wonder how much more I or our aircraft can take, we burst through the clouds.
Angelic choirs break into song. For a moment, we appear weightless, floating on top of the very clouds that abused us on our ascent. Sunlight glistens off our rain-drenched airplane’s wings, illuminates the flowing cotton clouds, gentle and peaceful as far as our eyes can see.
I remembered that today, getting caught in my second sudden rainstorm in as many days. It may be gray and gloomy where I am standing. You may be cold and wet and shivering, wish you were anywhere but where you are. But somewhere above, the sun is shining in dazzling and unexpected ways.
Or maybe it’s better to say, the Son is shining in dazzling and unexpected ways.
That’s always going on, even if we can’t see it. Even when we’re caught in a surprise storm.
The second thought came to me when the sun came out, even though it was still raining. I mean, how could you need sunglasses and a raincoat at the same moment? Does anyone else find that odd?
Anyway, as I was hiking along in the sunny rain, with my dog and my older daughter grumbling at me, it struck me as a metaphor for life. On any given day–indeed, at any given moment–we can be joyful while we grapple with a problem we haven’t yet found a solution for, or we can be fearful for our future while we find a few moments of laughter surrounded by friends.
I had a pastor who used to say that we live in the tension between the now and the not yet. And I think that’s it. That’s life in all its gloom and glory.
It’s a hike through the woods on a sunny, rainy day.
But in the end, the clouds scattered and there was only sun. And in the end, there will only be the Son.
When our country and our world seem to be heading down a dangerous and destructive path, this is a time when God needs his believers to stand in the gap for each other, for everyone we meet. Whether we recognize it or not, battle rages all around us. Spiritual forces of darkness, the darkness of this age conspire to drag us away from our source of Light and Life.
We are simultaneously warriors in this fight and the battlefield itself.
Monument from Gettysburg Battlefield. Copyright (c) 2021 by David K. Carpenter Photography. All rights reserved
Ever felt tempted? Ever post something mean on social media? You are the battlefield. Ever prayed against it? Ever helped a stranger in need? You are a warrior.
You get the picture.
This is why God needs us in this fight–because we are the very battleground the evil one and his forces of darkness are attacking. If we agree with God in prayer, we give him the high ground. We become, for a time, unassailable. Not for long, sadly, as we are all too easily coaxed out of such an advantageous position, but it is glorious while it lasts.
But what does it mean to fight in this weird war where we can’t even see our foe, at least not directly (it is usually easy to tell when we are face-to-face with evil)? As I alluded to earlier, prayer is a particularly deadly weapon against the darkness. What else? I know I feel like a warrior for God when I help others. There are other easy answers as well: be kind. Be joy in someone’s otherwise dreary day. Be Love.
As innocent and wholesome as these things seem, they are Kryptonite for the foul spirits who would have us be mean, be bitter, and be hateful and selfish.
So what’s the point?
The point is that God has given us each special abilities and experiences. He expects us to use them to advance his kingdom, to win the war on spiritual terrorism. This is not a time for us to be complacent or, worse, complicit with the forces of darkness.
In the fourth chapter of the book of Esther, Mordecai is trying desperately to convince Esther to stand up for their people, the Jews. Esther is reluctant due to fear for her own life. Paraphrasing Mordecai’s response slightly, he says to her, “How do you know that God hasn’t given you your abilities, experiences, and opportunities to prepare for just such a time as this?”
So whatever you do well, do it. However God has gifted you, wired you, stand up and do it. The world needs you. God needs you. I need you. We need each other. This is the way God intended it to be.
Mother’s love traverses Time and place and even Heaven’s boundary. Childhood sacred moments flicker, Silver on memory’s screen: Singing away tears— Oh how you loved your teddy bear; Reading me The Princess Bride to Chase away weeks of illness; Pictures from before I remember, Sleeping in your arms’ protection.
My own grown children still need Their mom and her Fierce, ferocious love that Knows no boundaries, Will never end. Sometimes she wishes she Could turn it off, But not really, she can’t. She carried them in a way No one else ever can. Not even me, and I Carried them a lot, these Monkeys on my back.
This is transcendent, these Angels rising from the ashes Of all that is broken and cruel, Sent to nurture us, To carry us through life On their shoulders. To love us through our unloveliness to Show the world the gem she sees.
Sunlight filters through a Break in the curtains, Carries away the baggage. I am left to remember, To cherish This sacred space, These mother’s arms, Where God himself once rested.
David K. Carpenter May 9, 2021 Happy Mother’s Day to Kristin, one of my favorite moms; In loving memory of my other two favorite moms: Nancy Carpenter and Patricia Little
This week I came across an article ranting about bad things Christians do or say and hurling damning generalizations at the lot of us. If I’m being transparent here (which, painfully, I feel called to be), I have to admit that I had a visceral, negative reaction to this when I scanned through it. I mean, I’m so tired of people focusing on the negatives of Christians and Christianity while ignoring the innumerable things done, great and small, in the name of Jesus for the benefit of the world in general and our cities and neighborhoods specifically. Aren’t you?
But…before I get you too fired up, let me fill you in briefly on where this journey has led me. Spoiler alert: it didn’t end with me posting an angry response, feeling vindicated by my witty yet scathing words.
So here’s the thing. After I went back through the list of 8 awful things Christians do or say, as I was formulating what I would say back, I heard this annoying voice in my head ask a couple questions: Well, is it true that Christians have done or said those things? Have you ever done or said things like this?
Ugh.
I really hate to call the voice of God annoying, but I think that’s what it was–God’s voice. I think God can take me referring to his voice as annoying since it often takes me being annoyed before I will learn and grow, and that’s what he wants from me.
Being honest (which, let’s face it, you might as well be when you’re talking to God!), I can’t really answer “no” to either of his questions. So now what?
I’d like to say I exercised self-control and didn’t write a witty yet scathing response. Well, I didn’t write any such response, but it would be disingenuous for me to refer to my restraint as “self-control”.
Hence the term: “Christ-control”, since he is really the one who saved me from myself.
This doesn’t mean that I have to be OK with the things said in the article I saw. It only means that I have to respond to hate and vitriol the way Jesus did–with love and prayers for the offender. I only have to live and interact with people in such a way that reflects his love for them, thereby glorifying his name.
Ugh. “Only“?
Doesn’t God know how hard it is to love people who don’t love me? But what about…?
Hmm. Well, yes, I guess he does. There are no “But what about”s in his Kingdom.
He never said it would be easy–he only promised he would there with us through it all. And he showed us the way.
Sunrise over Pikes Peak, Colorado Springs, CO – (c) Copyright 2021, by David K. Carpenter Photography
Right at the beginning of the Bible, when God is running around making the earth and stuff, one of the first things He does is place the sun and moon in the sky, dividing the way we will experience life into the 24-hour chunks we call days.
Autumn in Woodland Park, CO – (c) Copyright 2021, by David K. Carpenter Photography
Why do you suppose He did that? Was it some sort of arbitrary decision? (“Hmm, how long should we make a day? I know, let’s all 3 of us put our favorite number in a hat, and whichever number we pick…”)
Well, I don’t think it was random or arbitrary. God had a plan to create us, and He knew we would only be able to carry one day’s worth of burdens before we would need to rest and rejuvenate. He also intended that this rejuvenation would require us to turn to Him each and every day. This was His plan–that we would need Him for strength and nourishment, and He would freely give it, whenever we ask.
But only for one day.
There is abundant evidence of this throughout the Bible. He gave the Israelites manna to eat when they were wandering in the desert, but they could only gather enough for one day. When Jesus gave us an example of how to pray, he modeled the idea that we need to ask for sustenance every day:
“Today,” and “Daily bread”. Also, there are plenty of reminders that God helps us carry our burdens day after day–not in any bigger chunks than that. He gives us our strength in daily doses.
Sometimes life is a struggle, like a difficult workout. One good analogy is a local hike known as the Manitou Incline. It’s “only” about 1 mile, but it seems at times to be nearly vertical. There are railroad ties arranged as steps–about 2744 of them–enabling you to ascend about 2000 vertical feet in that “only a mile”. And keep in mind, you start at an elevation of 6500 feet (about 1300 feet higher than Denver) and end at an elevation of about 8590 feet. It takes “normal” people an hour or two to make it to the top, although the record for the fastest time up was set by Joseph Gray in 2015–he made it in 17 minutes and 45 seconds (I know, it makes you want to punch him…if only you could catch him!)
I have done this several times. No matter how fit I am, by the time I’m about 3/4 of the way to the top, it starts to feel like I’m not going to make it. The sun’s baking down on me, feeling light-headed, maybe a little dizzy, questioning my sanity… So then I start to make little deals with myself: I don’t have to make it to the top, I just have to go up one more step. When I do that, I find I have a little more left in me, so I repeat the deal.
Just one more step.
And then another and another. Next thing I know, I’m at the top.
That’s how God nourishes and strengthens us–He gives us just enough to get through this day, and no more.
When tomorrow becomes today, He’ll give us just enough strength to get through that one more day. And then one more after that.
But then again, we don’t need to worry about that day after that, at least not until it becomes today.
This is how we live in the moment, built on a foundation of trusting that God is enough, and He will provide. It’s how we live life well, walking with God, allowing Him to lead us through our darkest days and basking in His illumination of the brightest ones.
Golden Afternoon in Ouray, CO – (c) Copyright 2021, by David K. Carpenter Photography
At church today (and at the other services over the weekend), we welcomed 100 more new followers of Christ into God’s family through water baptisms. For some reason (probably something to do with God), a couple years ago, whenever people were being baptized, I would say this simple prayer for each person:
Father, let him/her be a light in the darkness.
Or even, more simply:
Another light in the darkness.
So there I was today during our baptisms, whispering that prayer for each person as they rose up out of the water, and tears started rolling down my cheeks. I don’t know where they came from. I mean, I didn’t know any of these new brothers and sisters in Christ. Why would tears flow today?
100 more lights in the darkness.
Candles in Notre Dame I – (c) Copyright 2021 by David K. Carpenter Photography, All Rights Reserved
Any one or all of the Holy Trinity could easily create enough light to illuminate the earth brighter than all the sports stadiums in the world combined. But they don’t. Instead they choose individuals to be their light in the darkness. You, me, your neighbor, that odd person at work, the lady ringing up your groceries.
We are, each one of us who call Jesus Lord and Savior, holding a dim, flickering candle.
We may not provide much light on our own–maybe just enough to illuminate the path for your child or parent or friend or sibling who is struggling.
But what about when our lights join together? Last weekend, for the Good Friday service, they gave each of us a candle and dimmed the lights. Even though we have a huge sanctuary, it set the place aglow when a thousand points of light combined together to overcome the darkness.
And when you put the 2.5 billion of us believers on the planet today together, we can and should shine light into the darkest corners of the world. That’s just the way God works. Looking around in the world today, it might be easy to think the evil one is winning–he seems to have control of so many famous individuals, so many countries and leaders, people lurking in the shadows thinking the light can’t reach them.
But this is how Love and Light will win: by each of us being enough Light in the darkness that there is no escaping it.
Candles in Notre Dame II – (c) Copyright 2021 by David K. Carpenter Photography, All Rights Reserved
OK, one last cool thing to mention, another little God coincidence that may not be a coincidence at all. The song the praise band was playing during the baptisms was “Way Maker.” And here are the lyrics for the chorus, which we reached just as the first new believer arose from the waters of baptism:
“Way maker, miracle worker, promise keeper, light in the darkness, my God, that is who you are.
From “Way Maker” (emphasis added), written by female Nigerian songwriter, Osinachi Okoro, stage name Sinach
We got to “light in the darkness” just as I was saying that prayer for the first new family member. I think that’s when the tears came, and I think I know who they came from.
After the Sabbath, at dawn on the first day of the week, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary went to look at the tomb.
There was a violent earthquake, for an angel of the Lord came down from heaven and, going to the tomb, rolled back the stone and sat on it. His appearance was like lightning, and his clothes were white as snow. The guards were so afraid of him that they shook and became like dead men.
The angel said to the women, “Do not be afraid, for I know that you are looking for Jesus, who was crucified. He is not here; he has risen, just as he said. Come and see the place where he lay. Then go quickly and tell his disciples: ‘He has risen from the dead and is going ahead of you into Galilee. There you will see him.’ Now I have told you.”
So the women hurried away from the tomb, afraid yet filled with joy, and ran to tell his disciples. Suddenly Jesus met them. “Greetings, ”he said. They came to him, clasped his feet and worshiped him. Then Jesus said to them, “Do not be afraid. Go and tell my brothers to go to Galilee; there they will see me.”
Matthew 28:1-8 (NIV, emphasis added)
Jesus Christ has risen from the grave! We have not hoped in vain! A bright light beckons in the darkness, new life is there for the asking. Praise God, who makes all things new!
Master's Canvas - Writing & Photography by David K. Carpenter 