Posted in Christian Living, Poetry

National Poetry Writing Month #20

On Knowing God

Just a piece of weathered wood,
once part of a great tree, a tall oak
spreading toward the blue sky.

How did it come to be swept
onto this sandy beach, beaten by waves,
barnacled, the smell of the distance
clinging to its nooks and crannies?

Walking in the dunes, searching
for shells and the evidence of God,
we know the loneliness of logs
taking cover under moss,
all truth of their beings hidden
under layers of salty water
and the memory of rain.

Only on our knees, the ocean’s mist
fanning our faces, do we peel
away our own layers, open the core
of our being to the One whose truth
is everywhere, even in the cast-off bits
of a mighty oak now twirling in front of us
on a distant shore.

Ramona Levacy
April 20, 2013

Posted in Christian Living, Poetry

National Poetry Writing Month #7

The Supplicant

They are just hands, cracked
as any work-worn skin might be,
the creases running in lines
telling stories of every lost dream
and hard-won victory.

Just looking, we see past the embedded dirt,
the scars stark white against tanned skin
so thick, even softness is just a memory.
These hands know pain, hold hurt
like a solid something, ease misery
with the lightest touch.

Only hands that have raised the crops
for the table or sewn the quilts
warming family beds feel the cold
on winter mornings as something
more than nature’s biting chill.

Clasped in yearning, these hands
have come as close to God
as any believer, stretched in faith
toward that something that binds us
each to the other, the surety of things hoped for,
the evidence of that not seen.

Ramona Levacy
April 7, 2013

Posted in Christian Living, Faith, Living

De-coding our prayers

In the good old days when I taught English composition to reluctant classes of grumbling college freshmen, I used a core concept to try to explain the importance of detail in writing which I called the “code word.”
Code words are those general ideas or phrases that we say all the time that carry much more meaning for us than just the word alone implies. Think of it like Hemingway’s iceberg theory, where the reader only sees the tip when the bulk of meaning is beneath the surface. Of course, the method of minimalism works just fine for a brilliant writer like Hemingway. In the hands of an untutored writer, a code word is just a general idea with no foundation or substance at all. Think of sentences like, “the book was really cool and made me think” with nothing else there to back these conclusions up.
To help my students understand a bit better what I meant by this concept, I would use the example of our prayers. In our prayers, we use codes, or shortcuts, all the time. God is, after all, omnipotent. He, at least, knows what we mean when we say “take care of Timmy,” or “keep us safe.”
As I reminisced about this practice earlier this week, I began to wonder if our own code words in prayer really serve us well at all. Do you find yourself repeating the same phrases each time you pray? Didn’t Jesus once scold those around Him who relied on meaningless repetition in prayer, which only keeps us further away from a meaningful relationship with God? After a while, do your own coded prayers really mean anything to you at all, or are they just good luck rituals, mantras with a seemingly positive meaning but very little power?
De-coding our own prayers can be just as difficult as writing more specifically always seemed to be for my students. You can’t just hit the highlights and move on, assuming God knows it all anyway. That strategy works in certain moments when we are so anguished all we can manage is a cry of “Abba,” but what about our day-to-day discussions with the Almighty?
If we take the time to spell out our hopes, fears, desires, and needs, will we not discover more about ourselves? In the end, what exactly do we want to be kept safe from? What dangers should we ourselves be looking out for? If we find ourselves only coming up with material wishes when we pray with specifics instead of codes, what does that tell us about our own need for spiritual growth?
At the same time, don’t you think that a God who goes to such great lengths to know and be known by His children would want to hear us take the time and effort to verbalize as specifically as possible what we want to say to Him? Are code words really the best we can do? Since God only deserves our best, I think we should take it to that next level.
So, it’s time to de-code, step up to the challenge and speak to God like we really believe He is there and listening. You may just be surprised what you learn about yourself and your prayer life if you do.
And you’ll write a killer college essay, should the need ever arise.

Posted in Christianity, Faith

Finding the empty spaces

The French philosopher, Montagne, once said, “My life is filled with many tragedies, most of which never happened.” We choose how to interpret the information with which we are bombarded daily. We choose what to let in, what to keep out, and how to react and think about the things that happen to us. Really understanding that and practicing it in our daily lives in a positive way can be very empowering.
One of my biggest problems is that I seem to be always thinking. Even when I pray, I often have undercurrents of the day running through my head behind the words I am saying out loud to God. If my mind is never still, will I ever really know that He is God?
That leaves me looking for the empty spaces in my brain. I know they are in there. God orders moments of rest for us. He tells us to be still. He spoke to the prophets, not in the whirlwind, but in a whisper. In the quiet places of my mind, I’ll find the message of the Holy Spirit.
But where are my empty spaces? I know where they are not. Not in front of a blaring television or a flashing computer screen. Not gossiping on the telephone or shopping in the mall. Not fretting about chores that need done or stories to write.
There are times and places for all of these things (though some of them should have none of my time at all). But there should be a time in each day when I can be still, stop thinking, concentrate on my breathing and wait for God’s whisper. It will take practice, like all things worthwhile, but in a world full of information and distractions, it is necessary.
Have you found your empty spaces lately?