Iron Mountain ski jump

Iron Mountain ski jump

Thursday, November 20, 2014

Finding Your Priest Quickly

CHRIST IN WINTER: Reflections on Faith from a Place of Winter for the Years of Winter… ©

In the awful days of dictator Idi Amin in Uganda, a precursor of the Hutu-Tutsi slaughters in Rwanda later, the Church of England asked the Ugandan bishop what they could do to help.

“Send us 100 clerical collars,” he answered.

That seemed terribly irrelevant, but…

“When they come to murder our people,” the bishop explained, “it happens so suddenly. We have no warning. Our people need to be able to find their priests quickly.”

John Robert McFarland
johnrobertmcfarland@gmail.com

The “place of winter” mentioned in the title line is Iron Mountain, in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, where life is defined by winter even in the summer! [This phrase is explained in the post for March 20, 2014.]

I have also started an author blog, about writing, in preparation for the publication, by Black Opal Books, of my novel, VETS, in 2015. http://johnrobertmcfarland-author.blogspot.com/


I tweet as yooper1721.

Tuesday, November 18, 2014

I Have Tried to Treat the World With Kindness--a poem

CHRIST IN WINTER: Reflections on Faith from a Place of Winter for the Years of Winter… ©

I usually start the day by staring into the fire, or out the window at the snow, and thinking a poem. Sometimes I write it down. I don’t rewrite. It is just the raw musings in the day’s first light, or, more often, its last darkness. I’m reluctant to inflict bad poetry on you, but if you have come here to see if there is something new to read, well, at least, there is something new…

I have tried to treat
the world with kindness,
so that it should not grieve
unduly when I pass.
I have tried to walk softly
on the earth,
cruel and indifferent
as it is, uncaring
if I live or die,
born in darkness
and feeding on the light,
as it has always been,
Original Sin, as the thinkers
name it, capitalized,
to be sure we understand.
Why should I walk softly
or caress with kindness
this world, so prodigal
with its disdain for me,
and you?
But I have tried to treat
the world with kindness.
Do not grieve, unduly,
when I pass…


John Robert McFarland
johnrobertmcfarland@gmail.com

The “place of winter” mentioned in the title line is Iron Mountain, in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, where life is defined by winter even in the summer! [This phrase is explained in the post for March 20, 2014.]

I have also started an author blog, about writing, in preparation for the publication, by Black Opal Books, of my novel, VETS, in 2015. http://johnrobertmcfarland-author.blogspot.com/

I tweet as yooper1721.

Monday, November 17, 2014

Happy Holidays

CHRIST IN WINTER: Reflections on Faith from a Place of Winter for the Years of Winter… ©

The holiday season is fast upon us. It starts with the annual Dead Antelope Festival Jubilee Celebration Days, which coincides with Deer Days, the opening of deer season in the UP, when schools have to be closed because teachers and students alike, along with everyone else, are out in the woods shooting Bambi’s mother. Since no one in our family hunts, we celebrate Dead Antelope Days, when all who come to the festival bring tribute—Monon rail cars and 1957 Desotos and the like—for the HO railroad grandson Joe and I run in our basement. He named it Dead Antelope, when he was about 7, for its general ambiance and mien. It has lived up nicely to its name.

Following quickly upon Dead Antelope Days are Thanksgiving, and Christmas, and Hanukah, and New Year’s, and Festivus [for the Rest of Us].

There is, of course, a great hubbub about “the war on Christmas,” because some folks greet others with “Happy Holidays” instead of “Merry Christmas,” both in person and with cards. The “war on Christmas” is a rather recent invention, although “Happy Holidays” is not. I first began paying attention to Christmas cards about sixty years ago, and “Happy Holidays” made frequent appearances, usually with symbols indicating both Christmas and New Year’s. It was simply an easy way of expressing good wishes for more than one festival occasion.

We once lived in a small town, about 2500 people, noted for its festivals, which attracted a lot of strangers to town so local organizations and merchants could extract money from them. They were fun, but also exhausting for the locals. When one of the banks in town was robbed, everyone sighed with exasperation, knowing that from then on there would be an annual Bank Robbery Festival, requiring yet more work.

The original intent of a festival, a jubilee, was for rest. It was an extended Sabbath. It gave people a chance to stop and think, a time to have fun together instead of work. Biblically, it was designed to give a respite to those in need of one. Jubilees were held every seven years, and at those occasions debts were wiped out. They were the original black Friday, when those most in need got out of the red. They were festivals of Sabbath, of rest instead of work, of grace instead of greed.

Let me be the first this year to wish for you: Happy Holidays! [And don’t forget to bring some HO track.]

John Robert McFarland
johnrobertmcfarland@gmail.com

There is some debate about how often biblical jubilees were held. Some scholars think it was every 49 years, 7 times 7. At any rate, it would seem jubilees were the reason 7 became a “lucky” number.

The “place of winter” mentioned in the title line is Iron Mountain, in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, where life is defined by winter even in the summer! [This phrase is explained in the post for March 20, 2014.]

I have also started an author blog, about writing, in preparation for the publication, by Black Opal Books, of my novel, VETS, in 2015. http://johnrobertmcfarland-author.blogspot.com/

I tweet as yooper1721.


Sunday, November 16, 2014

Going On to Perfection

CHRIST IN WINTER: Reflections on Faith from a Place of Winter for the Years of Winter… ©

John Wesley said that our goal is to be made perfect in love. It is referred to as his “doctrine of Christian perfection.”

Indeed, candidates for ministry in the United Methodist Church are still asked, “Do you expect to be made perfect in love in this life?” The only correct answer is “Yes,” regardless of how much the evidence argues against it.

Christian perfection, I think, is a matter of finally recognizing how perfectly God waits for us, waits for us to discover and acknowledge the perfection in love that is God.

John Robert McFarland
johnrobertmcfarland@gmail.com

The “place of winter” mentioned in the title line is Iron Mountain, in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, where life is defined by winter even in the summer! [This phrase is explained in the post for March 20, 2014.]

I have also started an author blog, about writing, in preparation for the publication, by Black Opal Books, of my novel, VETS, in 2015. http://johnrobertmcfarland-author.blogspot.com/

I tweet as yooper1721.

Friday, November 14, 2014

Working the Angles--a poem

CHRIST IN WINTER: Reflections on Faith from a Place of Winter for the Years of Winter… ©

In pickle ball I am not as fast
or strong as those with younger
legs, and so I work
the angles,
paddle turned a few degrees
to guide the ball just inside
the lines, just outside
the reach of those on the wrong
side of the net.
The other players call me
St. John of the Angles.
The rest of the time
I work the angels,
to stay just inside
the lines, just outside
the reach of those on the wrong
side of joy.

John Robert McFarland
johnrobertmcfarland@gmail.com

The “place of winter” mentioned in the title line is Iron Mountain, in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, where life is defined by winter even in the summer! [This phrase is explained in the post for March 20, 2014.]

I have also started an author blog, about writing, in preparation for the publication, by Black Opal Books, of my novel, VETS, in 2015. http://johnrobertmcfarland-author.blogspot.com/


I tweet as yooper1721.

Thursday, November 13, 2014

The Lament of the Pine-a poem

CHRIST IN WINTER: Reflections on Faith from a Place of Winter for the Years of Winter… ©

I am beautiful, you say,
my boughs weighed down
with snow,
but beauty is a burden
hard to bear.
I long for slanting
summer sun,
to save me
from this beauty.

John Robert McFarland
johnrobertmcfarland@gmail.com

The “place of winter” mentioned in the title line is Iron Mountain, in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, where life is defined by winter even in the summer! [This phrase is explained in the post for March 20, 2014.]

I have also started an author blog, about writing, in preparation for the publication, by Black Opal Books, of my novel, VETS, in 2015. http://johnrobertmcfarland-author.blogspot.com/

I tweet as yooper1721.

Monday, November 3, 2014

A sister, not a brother...

Of course, I meant to say that Bettie was the daughter and sister of Alabama preachers, not the daughter and brother....

She Came from A Far--Remembering Bettie Wilson Story

CHRIST IN WINTER: Reflections on Faith from a Place of Winter for the Years of Winter… ©

Bettie Wilson Story was a woman of the Word. She served the Word with her words. That is remarkable, in its own way, because in person, she spoke words so slowly.

She was the daughter and brother of Alabama preachers, both of whom died too young. She was married to an Alabama preacher, too, although GL spent almost his entire career, and their 61 years of faithful marriage, as a New Testament scholar and Religion professor at Illinois Wesleyan University. [1]

Despite all those years on the Illinois flat lands, Bettie never lost her soft Alabama drawl or her gentle  Alabama smile. I can still hear her telling the story of the wise men at Jesus’ manger. Alabamians thought they had ashes on their feet because “They came from a far.”

She wrote the words faster than she spoke them, though, as attested by her books and her many, many news stories and columns as a journalist for United Methodist publications. She served for many years as director of communications for the Central Illinois Conference. In that writing she was concise and thoughtful and insightful.

She didn’t just inform; she communicated. She knew that the purpose of church journalism was more than just stating the facts. In her writing she tried to build community through dialogue.

She was not an insular writer, interested only in her own words. She wanted to make it possible for everyone to read and to write. She spent years on the library board. For two decades she directed the IWU Writer’s Conference, and made it possible for hopeful writers like me to meet accomplished writers like Madeline L’Engle.

Those of us who had the privilege of knowing her could hear her slow and gentle and smiling voice as we read her books and articles.

Bettie had it right. The Word is not in a hurry. The Word knows no time limits. It is the Word that is the Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end. The Word does not rush. It takes whatever time is necessary so that it can be heard clearly, in any dialect.

Bettie heard the Word clearly, and spoke it slowly, and wrote it hopefully, In the process, she enhanced our community, and loved us all.

John Robert McFarland

1] One of the many convergences of our lives is Opelika, AL, where Bettie’s father pastored when she met GL, from nearby Beauregard, pronounced Boregard. Our granddaughter was born in Opelika, when daughter Katie taught at Auburn U, and GL’s sister was one of her nurses in the hospital.

[my old charter email address works, too]

The “place of winter” mentioned in the title line is Iron Mountain, in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, where life is defined by winter even in the summer! [This phrase is explained in the post for March 20, 2014.]

I have also started an author blog, about writing, in preparation for the publication, by Black Opal Books, of my novel, VETS, in late 2015. http://johnrobertmcfarland-author.blogspot.com/

I tweet as yooper1721.