To Speak His Own Name: A Canticle of Parentheticals

Your life is a blur,
Hours melding, days rushing past,
But still there is joy,
Prayers ascending, God stooping close,
To speak his own Name,
Cherubim bowing, saints lifting praise,
In the ear of his slave,
Sometimes whispering, still giving cheer,
The voice that you know,
Softly calling, yet tenderly firm.

(c) S.A. Detwiler, July 20, 2012

Corbett & Fikkert on Poverty Alleviation

“Reconciliation of relationships is the guiding compass for our [Christian] poverty alleviation efforts…. The goal is not to make the materially poor all over the world into middle-to-upper-class North Americans, a group characterized by high rates of divorce, sexual addiction, substance abuse, and mental illness. … The goal is to restore people to a full expression of humanness, to being what God created us all to be, people who glorify God….”
-Steve Corbett & Brian Fikkert, When Helping Hurts: How to Alleviate Poverty without Hurting the Poor and Yourself

For a helpful review of this book, click here.

He’s So Young

I don’t exactly know where this short story came from—the thoughts kind of just fell together. I don’t know the interpretation either. It isn’t an allegory—the characters and symbols don’t correlate one-for-one with anyone and anything in particular. But it is perhaps an analogy, maybe even an analogy on my life right now. Mainly I just wanted to play with words. And I have met a lot of people in the past year, so I have regularly seen someone and had to stop and think long and hard on why they look so familiar.

—– —– —–

The young man stopped halfway across the little bridge. He stopped and looked around him. His eyes lit up, and the look of wonder and joy on his face was like that of a man stepping directly out of winter into full summer. His eyes darted around as he looked at the leaves on the trees, the insects in the grass, and the little green moss patterns on the sides of the bridge. The man turned and leaned against the railing, resting his elbows on this sturdy structure. The man’s chin was in his hands now, and the look of recognition had vanished from his eyes. Below him flowed a muddy little stream with bright green clumps of grass on its banks. Just a stone’s throw away, another bridge crossed the little stream. That bridge was not a footpath; it bore a railroad track. The man looked out on this scene, but he did not really see anything. Confusion was written all across his face. He was lost in thought.

An hour later, or maybe it was only a few minutes later, the young man was still standing there on the bridge. His chin was not in his hands anymore, but he was still leaning on the railing, still looking out toward the other bridge, still gazing inward. Suddenly, away in the distance, the whistle and roar of a train could be heard. The man was unaffected. The train came into sight and then began to lumber across the other bridge. Both bridges quivered. The man’s eyes drifted up from the stream, and settled on the windows of the cars as they wandered by. It was a passenger train. The cars were mostly full. It was a hot day, and many of the windows were open. The man’s eyes had drifted up to the train, but he really was not watching the cars pass by. He did not follow them with his eyes. He did not notice any of the details.

Many of the passengers on the train saw the young man on the bridge. The younger children laughed and pointed at the odd figure. Some of the men on the train looked away quickly—his furrowed brow and faraway gaze scared them, for it told them what was written on their own faces. Some of the men, however, followed him with their eyes, trying to get a better look at the young man; they knew his confusion, and shared it, but they wanted to break past his listless gaze and hear his story. Some of the women that saw him quickly looked away and attended to something else. A few of the women brushed away tears that had instantly sprung to their eyes. They also felt what he felt. “He’s so young…” whispered one white-haired lady to her daughter-in-law.

Suddenly the life flashed back into the young man’s eyes. They were fixed on the train now, dragging his head with them. He was following the movement of one of the cars. A face had suddenly caught the young man’s attention. It was a clean face with well-defined features. Her head was thrust slightly outside of the window. The white scarf on her head pulled and tried to flap in the wind that the train was creating. Her eyes were opened, but she did not seem to notice anything that was passing by. Her brow was gently furrowed, her mind evidently wrapped in deep thought. The man jerked himself up straighter and followed her face with his eyes. He stepped back and tipped his head to the side, trying to look between the trees beyond the path, trying to catch another glimpse of that face as it passed out of sight behind the trees. He knew that face from somewhere. Her features were so familiar. His mind raced as he tried to recall the names and faces of all of his female cousins on his mother’s side and then on his father’s side. He did not know all of them, and he had not seen most of them since he was a child—but her skin was too light for her to be related to him. He tried to think back upon all of his recent trips to the city and his interaction with vendors in the markets. Who was she?

The young man’s eyes drifted back to the muddy streamlet as the train rumbled into the distance. The man’s forehead was even more furrowed now. His eyes were open, but he saw nothing. He tried to remember her face. He tried to remember her name. He tried to remember if and how he recognized her. He stood on the bridge confused. As he stood there, a little white butterfly fluttered by in front of him. He looked at it and threw a hand out, as if to catch it. The little creature fluttered on, and the young man settled back into his musings.

McCheyne’s Counsel to A Young Man

“Do not forget the inner man, the heart. The cavalry officer knows that his life depends upon his saber, so he keeps it clean. Every stain he wipes off with the greatest care. You are God’s chosen instrument. According to your purity, so shall be your success. It is not great talent; it is not great ideas that God uses; it is great likeness to Jesus Christ. A holy man is an awesome weapon in the hand of God.”
-Robert Murry McCheyne

The Hound of Heaven

Here are the first few stanzas of a great poem by Francis Thompson (1859-1907). I read this poem a few years ago, and the beauty and truth that Thompson portrays has hounded me ever since. Do you also relate with this poet?

I fled Him, down the nights and down the days;
I fled Him, down the arches of the years;
I fled Him, down the labyrinthine ways
Of my own mind; and in the mist of tears
I hid from Him, and under running laughter.
Up vistaed hopes I sped;
And shot, precipitated,
Adown Titanic glooms of chasmèd fears,
From those strong Feet that followed, followed after.
But with unhurrying chase,
And unperturbéd pace,
Deliberate speed, majestic instancy,
They beat—and a Voice beat
More instant than the Feet—
“All things betray thee, who betrayest Me.”

You can read the rest of Thompson’s poem by clicking here. By today’s standards, it is a long poem; but trust me, this poem is well-worth your time.

The Plow

My heart is a field, a fallow plot of old ground.
The Word is a plow, with a keen, double blade.
With thunder and lightning and a terrible sound,
While torrents of rain and soft dews have played,
The Lord of the this field has labored and toiled.
The plow is now tearing through soil half-thawed
—Too long this old land has lay barren and moiled
In weeds overgrown, in a thorn-spangled sod—
O, tear through this soil, all-victorious plow!
The trumpet has sounded, the year has now come,
Let Jubilee freedom, at the Husbandman’s clout,
Bring this field into submission, to yield a grand sum:
A hundredfold, sixtyfold, thirtyfold harvest!
O sow your seed, when my soul-soil is readied;
You, O God, above all are the greatest!
(I give thanks that your hand is by gentleness steadied.)

(c) Bill Fridl

The High Call of Marriage

A few weeks ago, I threw a bachelor’s party for my brother. It wasn’t a rowdy, rude event, but a time to encourage my brother and to celebrate with him. David W.—one of the guests at the party (he is also going to be one of my brother’s groomsmen)—wrote a letter to my brother for this event. This letter was really encouraging, and so my brother and I asked David if we could post it here.

May you also be encouraged!

It’s been a privilege getting to know you, and I am so thankful to our sovereign God for making our paths cross in His perfect timing. You’ve been an encouragement to me as I’ve seen your zeal and love for the Lord Jesus and your desire to pursue holiness for His glory. I have been particularly impressed by the prayerful, sober way you conducted your courtship with Melody, and how, lately, you have sought the counsel of godly mentors in preparing for the covenant of marriage. Your example inspires me, and it is a bright light to the many young people who know you, including my own children.

As I reflected upon the high calling of marriage, the scripture that came to me was Galatians 2:20, “I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.”

You cannot succeed in marriage without the cross of Christ. Your covenant relationship with your wife will become your primary opportunity for being crucified with the Savior, loving her as Jesus loved His church, and laying down your interests for hers. This giving of yourself is a fountain of deepest blessing, so don’t hold anything back. Strengthened by Christ’s love for you, follow His example of making yourself nothing, “taking the very nature of a servant (Philippians 2:7)”. This is the ultimate place of paradox. The servant-leader is the most powerful leader of all, for when you are serving, the power of Christ shines through you.

I am praying that God will grant you a Christ-centered vision for your home, so that your family will always be a City on the Hill (Matthew 5:14). And, again, this will happen by the way of the cross. For when an entire family sets aside its own interests for the interests of others, those in darkness are drawn to Christ’s light. So, don’t let this world distract you with its vain goals for families. Spend your time and resources carefully, strategically, for His glory. Be the visionary who is always on the lookout for those in need, and lead your family to be the powerful ministry tool that is always ready to serve a hot meal in Jesus’ name.

I say these things not as an expert, but as one who is striving alongside of you. Please know that the W. home is always open to you and your family as we spur each other on in the pursuit of knowing Christ and making Him known.

In the Savior’s love,

David

(David W. is a husband and a father of six children. For the past few years, he and his family have been a great source of fellowship, wisdom, and joy to both my brother and his fiancée.)

Spurgeon on “…let us cleanse ourselves…”

“Since we have these promises, beloved, let us cleanse ourselves from every defilement of body and spirit, bringing holiness to completion in the fear of God (2 Corinthians 7:1).”

photo courtesy of JoyInTheLittleThings blog

“It is easy to find out others’ faults and to bring the whole force of our mind to bear against them. It is delightful to expose vice and lampoon the follies of the age, adding a dash of wit to enliven it, or to preach virtue, with a little of the sugar of scandal to sweeten a painful tale. It highly gratifies some people when they can find a fault with some highly respected person. That is their forte, the strength of their genius, pulling to pieces what they could not put together and attempting to raise themselves by lowering others. But notice, the apostle says,”Let us cleanse ourselves.” It is all very well to drag the church of God up to the alter like some bleeding victim, and there to stab her with the sharpest knife of our criticism and to say that she is not this and she is not that. One might rather ask, “How far do I help to make her what she is? If she is degenerate, how far is that degeneracy consequent upon my having fallen from the high standing that I should have occupied?” We shall all have contributed out quota to the reform of the church when we are ourselves reformed. There can be no better way of promoting general holiness than by increasing in personal holiness.”
-C. H. Spurgeon, A Passion for Holiness in a Believer’s Life(compiled and edited by Robert Hall)

Pray for Carlee Hobbs

It has been a long time since either Josiah or I have posted here, and even now I’m not going to post anything about either of us. Rather, I would like to ask you to pray for a family friend.

Nathaniel, Carlee and baby Caleb

Carlee (Sobie) Hobbs, her husband, Nathaniel, and their children live up in Alaska. Just a few months ago, while pregnant with their fifth child, Carlee was diagnosed with breast cancer. So as to be able to begin treating the cancer, the doctors brought the baby to be born a bit early. Praise God!—despite some challenges, the little guy is now doing pretty well. And now Carlee is undergoing cancer treatments.

But there is another character that I have not introduced yet—in fact, I think the Hobbs would urge me to identify him as the main character. This is the Lord God Almighty. Through all of the profound trials and difficulties that the Hobbs family are walking through right now, they have been leaning on the arm of their Lord and Savior…and joyously telling of his mercy and kindness as they go!

To learn how to pray for the Hobbs family, and to read of their incredible testimony of faith, I encourage you to visit Carlee’s blog.

Pray for healing and strength! Pray for God’s name to be lifted up and magnified!

A Tidbit from my Sister

Here is a great quote from my sister’s blog. I don’t think it ever crossed her mind that anyone would quote her, and that’s exactly why it’s so great.

I suppose accepting and doing the “little things in life” with joy and gladness is what the Christian life is all about.

I am away at college right now, and I havent posted anything since I came down here to Dallas in January. But I have had a good excuse for my silence; I’ve been studying like mad and enjoying it emensely! If you don’t know, I am at the Graduate Institute of Applied Linguistics (GIAL) working on an undergraduate certificate in applied linguistics. This school is amazing. It is small, intense, incredibly pratical, academically rigerous, and humbly submitted to God’s glory. The faculty and staff here are very personable and god-fearing and the students here are really encouraging and fun. Well, that’s enough of an update-attached-to-a-quote.

Big Sis Enters Blogosphere

We are pleased to announce that our sister, Heather, has began blogging. Her website is called Joy in the Little Things. Here’s what Josiah and I have to say about our sister.

Stephen:

My sister Heather is like an ivy plant— beautiful, tender, resilient. She is the oldest child in our family, so she has been there since I was born. As I have grown up (for certain) and matured (hopefully), Heather has played an integral role in my life.

Heather is a dear friend. I don’t know how many long-into-the-night talks— deep talks, broad talks, jumping-from-subject-to-subject talks— we’ve had over the past few years. We’ve shared life, we’ve shared our hearts— our perplexities, our fears, our hopes, our dreams, our opinions, our one faith and shared vision.

Heather is an example. She is an example of meekness, of godliness, of a heart devoted to God. She has lived out this example, and she has reached out into my life. I still have notes, letters, and birthday cards that she given me… I probably have notes from my early teens to the present. These notes are deeply impressed with encouragement. Many a time, Heather has brought portions of the Scriptures to my attention, and she has done so with a gentleness and a humility that has burned deep into my soul.

Heather is a caring person. She helped care for me when I was young. And even now while I am yet living at home, she still looks out for me. She helps with our family’s laundry, she helps cook several times a week, she helps cleans the house (especially the overlooked things). She does so much, she is so much— much more than all of this.

Not that Heather doesn’t have struggles and weaknesses. This is what I so admire about Heather: she is very real, not a superwoman. But rather than trying to hide every weakness and sin, time and again I’ve seen Heather work to be transparent about her struggles. I can see God’s grace flowing in and over and through her life. I have seen that God’s grace has been sufficient for Heather, and this has encouraged me to continue to hunger and thirst after righteousness, to hold on to my faith in Christ.

Heather is like an ivy plant— beautiful, tender, resilient—and the tendrils of her love have reached deep into my heart.

Josiah:

I can attest to each of the same virtues and experiences that Stephen so poetically wrote about our sister Heather.

One godly character quality that I must say about Heather is her overflowing generosity. Heather’s generosity is demonstrated by her daily self-sacrifice to others. Heather has sacrificed her own desires to help her family members on numerous occasions, not only in the home but also in business ventures that continue on to this day. I couldn’t ask for a more devoted secretary.

I will never forget the generosity of my sister when she gave a little boy the last of her saved M&M’s when he had already gulped his own treat down many days before. I was that little boy and I (and many others) continue to experience the sweetness of Heather’s generosity on a daily basis.

Here’s a link to Heather’s blog: Joy in the Little Things

You will also find that we have added her blog to our Blogroll on the right.

To the Highways and Hedges: Part Two

—A Continuation of my Previous Story with Contributions from Matthew 22:11-14—

Reclining at the table, Becher looked about him, and couldn’t keep back a silly grin; there was so much splendor and joy in this house. Guests filled the large banquet hall, all wearing their finest wedding garments. Becher had no idea where the poor and crippled and blind and lame people were, the people that the messenger had told him had been invited. The one who had opened the door to them had returned to the head of the table. He was indeed the master, for he was the king. Becher was soon told that this was the wedding feast of the king’s son. As Becher looked about, he noticed that some attendants had now entered the hall, bringing more food. They were working their way around, serving the new guests.
Becher leaned back and greeted the man next to him, “Peace, brother!”
The man smiled, but looked a bit nervous. “That’s a fine robe you have on,” the man said.
“Yes,” Becher replied. “And you’ll never believe how I came by it.” Becher’s face was only sincere now. His eyes filled with awe; it was as if he was looking past or through the man next to him. “My family and I live to the east of the city,” began Becher. “When the messenger came, the sun had just slipped behind the hills, so we set out while the first stars were beginning to shine in the east.” Becher paused and followed the other man’s gaze up the table. The servants were a little nearer now, and the smell from the good food made Becher’s belly growl with hunger. “We were about halfway to the city gates,” Becher resumed, “when we passed through an evening shower. It was odd, because I hadn’t expected rain. The rain was warm, but the wind tugged at our cloaks and shawls. Away in the distance I thought I heard some thunder. Then the rain passed, and the new moon broke out of the clouds just above the mountains. And I looked down at my clothes, to see what the rain had done to me, but instead of my old rags, I saw this wonderful garment I now wear. These are wedding clothes, I said to myself.”

Sitting with the women, Becher’s wife leaned over to the woman she had just been talking to. “I don’t know what my husband is talking about,” she said with a perplexed look on her face. Both women looked over at Becher, who was busy telling his tale to the man next to him. “He keeps saying that we passed through a gentle shower on the way to this feast,” Becher’s wife continued. “A gentle shower! It was a thunderstorm. The thunder was so loud that I thought the very rocks were going to split in two! And the lightning came all around us, and the rain came in such torrents and the wind was so strong that it felt like my clothes had been ripped off and my skin was being pulled off my bones. It wasn’t just a little rain shower that we traveled through! But just like him,” her voice softened and a faraway look entered her eyes, “when the rain passed, I found that I was dressed in this marvelous wedding garment I am wearing.” She looked down at her dress and rubbed a fold of the fabric between her fingers.
“What about you?” she said, looking up at the woman next to her. “How did you come to this wedding feast?”
The other woman delicately wiped her fingers on a cloth, and straightened the little cluster of jewels that dangled on her brow. At the door, jewels had been given to all of the guests. The light glimmered and danced all around the room. Thoughtfully the woman finished chewing a morsel of fine food. She had already been at the table when Becher and his wife had arrived.
“The messenger,” the other woman said, “came to our door, and my father answered, for my husband went to sleep with his fathers two years ago, leaving me childless. My husband had no brothers,” she added almost as an afterthought. “My father was greatly interested in the messenger’s invitation, but seeing that we are very poor, he readily confessed that we had not the proper clothes for such a feast. ‘Worry not,’ the messenger said and then proceeded on his way. And then, you’ll never believe it, but as my father turned and shut the door, the tub that we use for bathing fell over in the back room where we keep it. Wary and half afraid, I peeked into the back room, and I saw that the tub now stood upright, filled with steaming water. Seeing it as a sign, my father quickly bathed, and he came back wearing a beautiful robe. That’s him up near the head of the table, the one with the long, white beard. My father was now eager to go to the feast, but my mother was very reluctant. My brother, God help him, scoffed at my father openly, and bustled out of the house to go… oh, but that’s beside the point! My mother stood firm, saying, “I have no need of a bath, and we are not beggars that we must rely on the charity of others, even if it is the king himself!” Caught in this mayhem, I went back and stepped into the tub. It was full— a thing we never do— and very warm. Oh, that water felt good! I scrubbed and soaked and it felt like it must have been hours, but father says I took only a few minutes. When I got out, a fine robe was laying there for me also. It wasn’t there when I got in the tub, for I remember wondering what I would wear once I got out. Still my mother would not come, so we left without her. Poor mother!” The woman paused for a moment, and then said, “Before we left our home, our maid came creeping out of that back room. She had also found wedding garments waiting for her when she stepped out of the tub, so my father couldn’t help but let her come with us.” A smile flashed across the woman’s face. “She is also sitting further up the table. There, she is picking up a fig right now!”

Becher watched intently while the attendant served him piles of wonderful things he had never seen or dreamt of eating. All of a sudden, the servant stopped, and glanced over his shoulder. The music paused, and then started up again a little softer. Becher looked up, and he saw that the king had begun to walk through the hall, greeting his beaming, grateful, and amazed guests. The servant waited to finish serving him, but Becher nibbled at the food already set before him. At last the master came to greet Becher. A profound sense that he had known him for ages swept over Becher. The master threw his arms around Becher, but all he could do was whisper, “Thank you!”
The king turned to greet the man beside Becher, and Becher saw that the king’s face suddenly clouded over. Sparks of fire seemed to leap from his eyes. “Friend,” the king said to him, “how did you get in here without a wedding garment?” Becher had not noticed before then, but it was true, the man next to him had no wedding garment. He wore a dirty shirt, stained and many times mended. Dread flooded the other man’s face, and he was speechless. Then the king said to the attendants, ‘Bind him hand and foot and cast him into the outer darkness. In that place there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth. For many are called, but few are chosen.”

A High School Graduation

The Graduate

Tomorrow our brother, Calvin, will be graduating from high school. He has worked hard, and the day has finally come.

When our mom and dad got married in 1981, they said that they would never send their children to public school. A few years later, they heard of this radical new idea called home schooling. Far from being radical and novel, however, the movement was actually a reinvention of the fact and reality that throughout the pages of history, parents have been the primary educational agents in the lives of their children.

While I could continue to elaborate on my family’s homeschooling journey, I want to focus on one colossal benefit that homeschooling has wrought in our family life. Because we have been educated at home, our formal schooling has become interwoven with every other aspect of our lives. Thus, schoolwork, housework, free time, play time, our interests, others’ interests, young people, old people— all of these (and more)— have been wrapped into the warp and woof of our lives. This is true, in a way, for every person, but it has been strengthened in our homeschooling experience. Whereas others might easily compartmentalize school, home, work, play, homework— these have become blurred and intermingled for my family.

Most of all, our lives of been knit together. In our formative years, each of us children have not been plopped in different classes divided by age groups, and we have not spent hours every day away from home and parental involvement. Rather, we have spent the vast majority of our formative years with one another, under the nurture and instruction of our parents. Therefore, as I go forth from my parents’ home, I have found this to be a great blessing. I have learned to be a life-time learner. I have learned to integrate diverse people, ideas, and pursuits into a cohesive pattern, letting these people and things sharpen and shape my personality and mission.

Flexibility is another great benefit of homeschooling. Therefore, my brother is graduating in October. Since early on, my parents found it easiest to school year-round, dispersing school-breaks throughout the year rather than having a long summer holiday. Thus, Calvin’s senior year ended at the end of this summer, and tomorrow worked out as a feasible day to hold a public ceremony and celebration.

Sail into the Sunset

May God bless you, my brother, as you chart your course into new waters! May our Lord Jesus be with you through every stormy gale, may his almighty hand ever rest on the tiller of your soul, and may he guide you at last to your desired haven!

Sail into the Sunset copyright Jonathan Wislon, courtesy of TrekEarth.com

Mrs. Charles on Church History

“If church history be anything different from secular history, it should be the result of Christian truth speaking through the lives of Christian men; the story of the struggle between selfishness and divine love, of the Life which has pierced through and outlived the corruption and decay of States; the echo of the accents of truth and love penetrating, like musical tone, through the market din and battle tumult of the world.”
-Elizabeth Rundle Charles, author of From Dark to Dawn

Is Palin Eligible?

Well, in his recent address at the 2008 Republican National Convention, the former New York Mayor, Rudy Giuliani threw down the gauntlet, and even though Giuliani wasn’t addressing me, I’ve taken up his challenge. Giuliani said, “How dare they question whether Sarah Palin has enough time to spend with her children and be vice president. How dare they do that.”

Mr. Giuliani, I dare.

(left to right) Palin's husband, Palin, Palin's running mate

Ever since I heard the news that Senator John McCain chose Sarah Palin as his running-mate, I’ve been shaking my head and saying, “That’s insane!” Palin is the mother of five, the youngest of which is only about five months old and has special needs, no less. Before I go further, I must clarify some things. I do not by any means support John McCain. McCain does not represent me in my convictions on political, social, or moral issues, and I am not going to vote for him in November. I know I am not alone on this; countless other conservative Christians have voiced similar sentiments, but ever since Palin came on the scene, Christians have begun to flap in the breeze.

But let’s face the issue head on, “If Sarah Palin does become the Vice President of the United States, will she have enough time to spend with her children?”

No.

Now, I don’t think you can put a qualitative figure or ratio on how much time a woman must be in the home with her children; to do so would be foolhardy. The Holy Scriptures, however, are very clear that a woman’s sphere of influence and vocation is her home (Titus 2:4-5). Indeed, the whole of the Bible is based on the affirmation, assumption, and exhortation that a woman is to be the help meet to her husband and the keeper of her home (children included).

The List

While I dare to question Palin’s eligibility to be the Vice President based on her status as a mother (especially of young children), I also question Palin’s eligibility based on many other factors. But I don’t have the time or the expertize to proffer arguments on all of these other fronts. Therefore, I invite you to check out Doug Philips’ blog, and see what some other conservative Christians are thinking about Sarah Palin. Doug Philips has not only put together a list of other bloggers, but he has done so in the form of quotes and links; in this way, you can peruse these quotations or get more involved as you have time and interest.

Join me in the discussion. Is Palin eligible?

Dominican Market

I walked along the market street,
My camera wrapped around my hand;
The noises of the swift and fleet
Motos, carros, camionetas— manned
By dexterous drivers— passed me by
Unnoticed, unremembered until I try.

I peer into the shops and stalls,
Observing people, observing wares;
So much to see, to hear— but walls,
Not between vendors but in their stares,
Keep me out, though I try—
I taste and talk, but the heartbeat slips by.

I lived among dominicans,
Their capitol, one week I roamed;
A local church asked us americans,
“Come, enter our life, our church, our homes.”
Our days were long, but soon flashed by;
God forged a bond, and keep it we shall try.

S.A. Detwiler Copyright 2008

Mercado al Aire Libre

Dragon’s Domain

What is a group of dragons called?

I posed this riddle a month ago. In truth, the question itself is a bit misleading, “Do dragons even group together?” The answer plays upon that suggestion, for the answer is…

…a wilderness of dragons.

I first found this phrase in a book by Tolkien, and I believe that it is actually a quote from Beowulf. As far as I can gather from my research, ‘a wilderness of dragons’ is an infrequent idiom, but it has been used by various authors.

Thyself Reckon Dead

Granite Clothed in Green

Thyself reckon dead, and then thou shalt fly
Free, free, from the prison of earth to the sky!
Spring may come, but on granite will grow no green thing;
It was barren in winter, ’tis barren in spring;
And granite man’s heart is, till grace intervene,
And, crushing it, clothe the long barren with green.
When the fresh breath of Jesus shall touch the heart’s core,
It will live, it will breathe, it will blossom once more.

-Jalal-ud-Din ar-Rumi
translated by E.H. Whinfield

“Likewise reckon ye also yourselves to be dead indeed unto sin, but alive unto God through Jesus Christ our Lord.” Romans 6:11 (KJV)

“The Lord is near to the brokenhearted
and saves the crushed in spirit.” Psalm 34:18 (ESV)

I will greatly rejoice in the Lord;
my soul shall exult in my God,
for he has clothed me with the garments of salvation;
he has covered me with the robe of righteousness,
as a bridegroom decks himself like a priest with a beautiful headdress
and as a bride adorns herself with her jewels.” Isaiah 61:10 (ESV)

Zwemer, Luther, Nygren on Agape

“Love in the Christian sense is primarily God’s own love. ‘God is nothing but an abyss of eternal love.’* Christian love is spontaneous, overflowing. It is not like the world’s love, evoked by a desire for its object. It is without respect of persons. It is love even for our enemies.”
Samuel Zwemer, Islam and The Cross
*Quote attributed to Martin Luther

“[Christian love] is prepared freely to find its kindness thrown away and lost, as also Christ has found. For how could Christian love fare better in this world than the love of God and of Christ?”
Ander Nygren, Agape and Eros

Day Five (Friday August 1, 2008)

The Class that Calvin and Nathan Helped In

Today was to be the last day of the Summer Bible School. In the morning, Calvin, Nathan, and I went all over the city with Don Francis. First we dropped off the Guerrero’s daughter, Claudia, at the

El Malecón

University where she was taking entrance exams. Don Francis intended to print the certificates of completion that he had made for all of the children that had attended the Summer Bible School, so we were bound for a print shop next. After dropping Claudia off, however, we had a little time before the print shop was open. We were right by the seacoast, so we walked down to look at the mighty waves. Along Santo Domingo, the coast is mostly rocky coral, the Dominicans call it their malecón. As we stood on the coast, the waves pushed up through a whole in the rocks below us, creating a waterspout. As we watched, a fishing boat also went by.

After enjoying the sea, we drove over to the print shop. The print shop still was not

Rocky Coast

open, so we went to a friend’s house; I think this man worked at or owned the print shop. After Don Francis played a practical joke on this friend, the friend invited us in. We sat and drank coffee— Dominican espresso, very dark, very sweet, served in a little cup. Francis and his friend talked about the Olympics in China and other things. My listening comprehension was growing daily, but I still couldn’t fully understand or take part in such conversations. After chatting a bit, we left for the graphic design / print shop that Javier, the Guerrero’s oldest son, works at. (This was plan B because they were more expensive.) It was fun to see where Javier works. As we waited for the samples to be printed and the negotiations to be made, we sat in the waiting room and tossed about some wadded cups (as a substitute for a ball) with Jean Carlos, the Guerrero’s youngest son, and a little boy who had come to work with his mother— I know, “a little boy in the office,” such things are unheard of here in the States!

This is the Beloved Building Where Iglesia Fundamento Biblcio Meets

Eventually we made it to Iglesia Fundamento Biblico. The others were already at work, but most of the construction work that we were expected to do while we were in the D.R. was completed. Rich and Rod, two of the married, middle-aged men from our mission team, were asked to do some “electrical work” today. Their task was to chisel a trench through a concrete

Rich and Rod, Hard at Work

floor for some wires. It was difficult for us to understand why this needed to be done, seeing that several more inches of concrete are at some point going to be poured on top of the present slabs to bring the floor up to level. Necessary or not, Rod and Rich went to work. Afterwards, Rich and Rod were told that the local workmen were very impressed with what Rod and Rich had accomplished because the workmen had said it was impossible to chisel such a trench.

As this was the last day of the Summer Bible School, representatives from each class practiced a short presentation during their class time. All of the children’s parents were invited to come and watch these presentations that afternoon. Early in the week, one of the boys in the class I helped in adopted me as his special friend. I think this was a good thing because this boy, Valentín, seemed like

Valentín

he could have been a real troublemaker. Even with my broken Spanish, Valentín tried to understand me, and he tried to make himself understood as well. Some of the other children just gave me blank stares and suspicious glances— which I can sympathize with; I don’t know what I would have thought of a foreigner at the age of six either. On this last day, however, many of the kids seemed to warm up to me. Near the end of their class time, they were all given paper and crayons and given time to draw and color. Somehow, I was asked to draw a car for one of the children— I think it was Valentín who asked me. The car that I drew was interpreted as a limousine. Motorcycles were also demanded. Soon, I was dragged from one end of the table to the other, and each child’s eagerly, and repeadtedly requesting, limusina, limusina; moto, moto. It was fun to be able to pour everything that I could into those kids; their smiles of satisfaction and glee were priceless. For them, I think just having an American drawing them a picture really made their day.

One of the Classes, Presenting

After class time, all of the children trouped downstairs, and the usual chaos broke out as we attempted to bring down the chairs and get the kids seated. Some of the children’s parents did come to watch their presentations. It was really neat to see the diverse productions that the classes presented. While I know that all of the productions centered on Christ, I only wish that I could have comprehended more. Every child received a certificate, those certificates that Don Francis had been printing this morning.

As the kids let out, Valentín eagerly pulled me down the street to meet his papí. It was a pleasure to meet Valentín’s father, but it was sad to realize that the week was coming to an end. Knowing that this was the last day was tough. I knew that I would hear from and perhaps again see the folks from Iglesia Fundamento Biblico, but I didn’t know if I’d see kids like Valentín ever again. As I reflect on this more, it is still difficult to think about the fact that these kids were going back into their homes, back into their neighborhoods, back into the world. Yet God is in control of the life and destiny of each of those children, and I pray that through Iglesia Fundamento Biblico’s Summer Bible School eternal change will be wrought in the lives of those children. Iglesia Fundamento Biblico is a striking representation of Jesus Christ. Just as Jesus became flesh and dwelt among men, Iglesia Fundamento Biblico has planted itself in a neighborhood and is attempting to minister to the people around them. May God add these children to his Church, bringing them and their families to worship alongside the brothers and sisters at Iglesia Fundamento Biblico!

Heather y Hijos

After all of the kids left, recognitions were awarded to all of the teachers and helpers from Igleisa Fundamento Biblico. They also gave each member of our mission team a recognition certificate. Tired out, and glad that the Summer Bible School was over, we all sang Christo Me Ama— Jesus Loves Me. It had been a long, hectic, exciting week, but that had knit us Dominicans and Americans together, for we had made it through together. Our joy that the week was over was mixed with sadness that our mission work was also coming to a close.

From Friday night on, our group mostly did things with the Castillos, a friend, “Junior”, and the Guerreros. I think it was on this Friday night that most of us went out to see a movie at a new, and gigantic, mall on the malecón.

“The kingdom of heaven is like a grain of mustard seed that a man took and sowed in his field. It is the smallest of all seeds, but when it has grown it is larger than all the garden plants and becomes a tree, so that the birds of the air come and make nests in its branches.” Matthew 13:31-32 (ESV)