REPORT TO THE PAST-a poem

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

REPORT TO THE PAST

I am getting ready now to die.

I almost said that I am “preparing”

to die, but that sounds so stiff;

“Stiff” is not a word to use

in our declining days.

There are many words now not

to use, but I am grateful for those

we shared along the way.

This report would be longer,

but I have lost

so many other words…

John Robert McFarland

johnrobertmcfarland@gmail.com

I tweet as yooper1721.

They called them heroes. They said, “Thank you for your service.” Then forgot about them. Joe Kirk lost a leg. Lonnie Blifield lost his eyes. Victoria Roundtree lost her skin. “Zan” Zander lost his mind. Four homeless and hopeless Iraqistan VETS who accidentally end up living together on an old school bus. With nowhere to go, and nothing else to do, they lurch from one VAMC to another, getting no help because, like the thousands of other Iraqistan VETS who are homeless, unemployed, and suicidal, they do not trust the system and refuse to “come inside.” After another fruitless stop, at the VAMC in Iron Mountain, Michigan, a doctor is found dead, and the VETS are accused of his murder. Distrustful, strangers to America, to each other, and even to themselves, they must become a unit to learn who really murdered the doctor, so that they can be free. In doing so, they uncover far more, about themselves and about their country, than they dared even to imagine. Available from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, BOKO, Black Opal Books, and almost any place else that sells books. $8.49 or $12.99 for paperback, according to which site you look at, and $3.99 for Kindle.

Toxic Christians-a statement

Toxic Christians are worse than no Christians.

JRMcF

God comes as bread-a Gandhi quote

“There is so much hunger in the world that God comes to earth as bread.” Gandhi

JRMcF

PRAYER AND BASEBALL

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

I’m humming “Take me out to the ballgame” as I start the coffee long before first light. Helen and I are going to The Great American Ballpark in Cincinnati today, to see the Reds lose to the Dodgers. We don’t want to see the Reds lose, but that’s the way their season is going, so it’s a fairly safe prediction.

This will be our first time at GAB. We have been to Crosley Field and Riverfront Stadium, the predecessor ballparks of the Reds, numerous times, including for our honeymoon. For a long time, though, we have lived in heathen places, where they cheer for teams like the Cubs and White Sox and Brewers and Twins and Indians. We have gone to the temples of false bravado where those teams play, though, when the Reds were in town. We have even taken our grandchildren there, for it is important, especially in strange and foreign lands, to help your grandchildren learn about the game.

I think about the times we took our children and grandchildren to the games, sometimes returning to the home of Aunt Gertrude and Uncle Randall for a delightful midnight meal, sometimes driving late into the night to get home.

As I think back on those times at the ballpark, I can’t remember who won any of those games. I do remember being there with people I love, and a strange mixture of joy and loss hovers around me.

Those days are no more. Helen and I will go to the ballpark alone and return home alone. Uncle Randall is enshrined in memory, and Aunt Gertrude confined to the TV. The children and grandchildren are grown up, with their own bases to run, their own teams to cheer. I can’t take them to the game anymore, explain why the pitcher is covering first base, buy them a hotdog and a cup of ice cream.

So I pray for them. That’s all I can do for them now.

 Prayer is not so much about getting something from God as it is about getting something from me, an admission that I am not in charge, even of those I love most, perhaps especially those I love most. In old age we are forced to rely not on our strength but on God’s strength.

Prayers creates communion, with God and with those we love, even if they are far away.

The longer I live, and thus the more I pray, the less I understand about prayer. I know it can’t be summed up on a page like this one. I am sure, though, that as we remember sharing the game with our loved ones, that is an opportunity for the prayer that unites us within the love of God,

John Robert McFarland

johnrobertmcfarland@gmail.com

I started this blog several years ago, when we followed the grandchildren to the “place of winter,” Iron Mountain, in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula [The UP]. I put that in the sub-title, Reflections on Faith from a Place of Winter for the Years of Winter, where life is defined by winter even in the summer! [This phrase is explained in the post for March 20, 2014.] The grandchildren, though, are grown up, so in May, 2015 we moved “home,” to Bloomington, IN, where we met and married. It’s not a “place of winter,” but we are still in winter years of the life cycle, so I am still trying to understand what it means to be a follower of Christ in winter…

I tweet as yooper1721.

Why I Wrote VETS...

Quite simply, I wrote VETS because I was appalled by the levels of suicide, homelessness, joblessness, hunger, and mental illness among veterans of the Iraq and Afghanistan wars, and the tepid response, sometimes downright negative response, of both government and citizenry, to their plight. Most people think if they slap on a “We Support Our Troops” bumper sticker, or hang a flag out on the porch, or put a flag pin on their lapel, or say “Thank you for your service,” we’ve done enough.

I don’t like sending people to war, but if we do, we have a responsibility to take care of them when they come home!

I don’t have the credentials or credibility to write non-fiction about the problems of veterans. But I’m a pretty good story teller, so I thought I could make a case for the veterans in a novel.

The good folks at Black Opal Books [BOB] agreed, and so they published VETS. It’s available at your local book store or through Amazon, Barnes and Noble, KOBO, the BOB website, and anyplace else that handles books [except maybe Walmart, and they’re working on that].

The first responsibility of a novelist is to tell a good story. I have tried to do that with Joe Kirk and the others on that bus to nowhere. Here is the synopsis of the novel…

They called them heroes. They said, “Thank you for your service.” Then they forgot about them. Joe Kirk lost a leg. Lonnie Blifield lost his eyes. Victoria Roundtree lost her skin. “Zan” Zander lost his mind. Four homeless and hopeless Iraqistan VETS who accidentally end up living together on an old school bus. With nowhere to go, and nothing else to do, they lurch from one VAMC [Veterans Administration Medical Center] to another, hoping for help but getting none because, like thousands of other Iraqistan VETS who are homeless, unemployed, and suicidal, they no longer trust the system and refuse to “come inside.” After another fruitless stop, at the VAMC in Iron Mountain, Michigan, a doctor is found dead, and the VETS are accused of his murder. Distrustful, strangers to America, to each other, and even to themselves, they must become a unit to learn who really murdered the doctor, so that they can be free. In doing so, they uncover far more, about themselves and about their country, than they dared even to imagine.

VETS, John Robert McFarland, Black Opal Books, 2015.

The paperback is $8.49 or $12.99, according to what site you look at, and the electronic version is $3.99. I know the price is not prohibitive, but if you can get your library to buy a copy, you can read it for free!

Should you need the ISBN for ordering from an independent store, the print version ISBN is 9781626943131 and ISBN for electronic version is 9781626943124.

As I said, I believe I’m a pretty good story teller. I also know that I am not a very good marketer, especially in this digital and social media age. So I’m depending on my friends to do the publicity for me. Would you tell your friends, and even your enemies, about VETS, please?

If you’d like to write a review for Amazon or Goodreads, etc, good or bad, that would be nice.

Thank you.

John Robert McFarland

johnrobertmcfarland@gmail.com

Reader alert: Some of the characters in the book [certainly not the author] say bad words.

One simple thing anyone who wants to support veterans can do is click each day on http://thehungersite.greatergood.com/clickToGive/vet/home?link=ctg_vet_home_from_ths_home_sitenav  They don’t ask for a credit card. You don’t have to log in. It does not cost anything. Sponsors provide meals for homeless, hungry veterans for each click.

I am not an Iraqistan veteran. Not many who are vets have written fiction from their experiences. Two who have are Phil Klay and Elliott Ackerman. I recommend them if you want a fictional account from someone who served in those places.

My profit from the book will go to helping homeless veterans, directly and through organizations.

Holding onto the uncracked nut--a CS Lewis quote

“The earliest Christians were not so much like a man who mistakes the shell for the kernel as like a man carrying a nut which he hasn’t yet cracked. The moment it is cracked, he knows which part to throw away. Till then he hold on to the nut: not because he is a fool but because he isn’t.” CS Lewis

JRMcF

John Updike-Profession v Person

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

I am reading Adam Begley’s biography of John Updike, the best writer of the 20^th century, as far as I am concerned.

Everyone who knew Updike seems to agree that early on he decided that he could not be successful both as a writer and as a person, and he chose to be a writer. He chose to be a human doing instead of a human being.

That is just one of the reasons that he is a famous writer and I am not. I can remember the moment, when our first child was born, that I decided that I would put personal success ahead of professional success. I thought it might be possible to be successful in both, but I knew, as Updike did, that you have to choose which will be first.

I often slipped off my chosen path, though. There are certain jobs, and ministry seems to be chief among them, where you are praised for neglecting personal relationships. With the ministry, there is much to do, busyness, yes, but there is the added incentive that you are “doing God’s work.” Who can argue with that?

Sports figures are actually praised for neglecting their families. “He’s so committed he sleeps in his office.” “He leaves his wife and baby and goes in early to get extra batting practice.” It’s called “work ethic.” It destroys relationships as much, if not more, than “lazy ethic.” I remember one of Florida State football coach Bobby Bowden’s sons saying that his father was always so busy at his job that he saw only one of his own son’s high school football games, and that was when he was there to scout another player.

I know people who chose personal success and were also successful professionally. Part of the professional success was because they worked on personhood first.

I do not know anyone who chose profession over personhood who was successful at both. Interior success can enhance exterior activities. It does not seem to work the other way around.

Some old people keep on doing what they have always one because their identity is so solely in external activities that they have to keep on the job for their life to have meaning.

One of the great benefits of retirement is that you have a chance to make that choice again. Professional life is over. You can choose being over doing.

John Robert McFarland

johnrobertmcfarland@gmail.com

I started this blog several years ago, when we followed the grandchildren to “the place of winter,” Iron Mountain, in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula [The UP]. Thus the title. We now live in Bloomington, IN, “the place of basketball.” I’m not changing the title, though.

I tweet as yooper1721.

My new novel is now available. Here is the synopsis: They called them heroes. Then forgot about them. Joe Kirk lost a leg. Lonnie Blifield lost his eyes. Victoria Roundtree lost her skin. “Zan” Zander lost his mind. Four homeless and hopeless Iraqistan VETS who accidentally end up living together on an old school bus. With nowhere to go, and nothing else to do, they lurch from one VAMC to another, getting no help because, like the thousands of other Iraqistan VETS who are homeless, unemployed, and suicidal, they do not trust the system and refuse to “come inside.” After another fruitless stop, at the VAMC in Iron Mountain, Michigan, a doctor is found dead, and the VETS are accused of his murder. Distrustful, strangers to America, to each other, and even to themselves, they must become a unit to learn who really murdered the doctor, so that they can stay free. In doing so, they uncover far more, about themselves and about their country, than they dared even to imagine. Available in print and ebook from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, BOKO, Black Opal Books, and almost any place else that sells books.

Words as Idols-a CS Lewis quote

“No words are adequate to God; all simple, unambiguous assertions are forms of idol-carving.” Chad Walsh, interpreting C.S. Lewis

JRMcF

Experience as an end in itself is a dead end--a quote

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

“If God is not IN your experience, then experience is always an end in itself, and always, I think, a dead end.” Christian Wiman, MY BRIGHT ABYSS, p 58

John Robert McFarland

johnrobertmcfarland@gmail.com

Christian Wiman was an atheist poet who began to wonder about faith when he got cancer. My Bright Abyss is a very thoughtful and beautifully written book.

I started this blog several years ago, when we followed the grandchildren to the “place of winter,” Iron Mountain, in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula [The UP]. I put that in the sub-title, Reflections on Faith from a Place of Winter for the Years of Winter, where life is defined by winter even in the summer! [This phrase is explained in the post for March 20, 2014.] The grandchildren, though, are grown up, so in May, 2015 we moved “home,” to Bloomington, IN, where we met and married. It’s not a “place of winter,” but we are still in winter years of the life cycle, so I am still trying to understand what it means to be a follower of Christ in winter…

I tweet as yooper1721.

Here is the synopsis of my new novel: They called them heroes. They thanked them for their service. Then forgot about them. Joe Kirk lost a leg. Lonnie Blifield lost his eyes. Victoria Roundtree lost her skin. “Zan” Zander lost his mind. Four homeless and hopeless Iraqistan VETS who accidentally end up living together on an old school bus. With nowhere to go, and nothing else to do, they lurch from one VAMC to another, getting no help because, like the thousands of other Iraqistan VETS who are homeless, unemployed, and suicidal, they do not trust the system and refuse to “come inside.” After another fruitless stop, at the VAMC in Iron Mountain, Michigan, a doctor is found dead, and the VETS are accused of his murder. Distrustful, strangers to America, to each other, and even to themselves, they must become a unit to learn who really murdered the doctor, so that they can stay free. In doing so, they uncover far more, about themselves and about their country, than they dared even to imagine. Available from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, BOKO, Black Opal Books, and almost any place else that sells books.

$8.49 or $12.99, according to which site you look at, for paperback and $3.99 for Kindle. eBooks for Nook and other formats will soon be available, perhaps already.

Winter Loneliness-a quote

“I have concluded, those who don’t built friendships in the spring and summer of their lives must find winter a lonely time.” Robertson McQuilken. Sent to me by my old Academy of Parish Clergy friend, Fred Skaggs.

JRMcF

johnrobertmcfarland@gmail.com

What Are We-a poem by CS Lewis

Christ In Winter: Reflections on Faith for the Years of Winter

We live for a day.

What are we?

What are we not?

A man is a dream about a shadow.

  CS Lewis

JRMcF

johnrobertmcfarland@gmail.com

I tweet as yooper1721.

APOCALYPSE NOW

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

The apocalyptic passages in the Bible, the predictions of the end times and the return of Jesus, are some of the most difficult. It’s pretty clear that some folks in the New Testament predicted that Jesus would return before everyone in that generation died. They were wrong.

Every prediction of the return of Jesus and the end of the world since then, over two thousand of them, have been wrong. So why do people keep getting sucked into end-times theories, when Jesus himself said that no one on earth, only God in heaven, knew when that time would be? [Matthew 24:36 and Mark 13:32]

I was once talking with a woman who was leaving the congregation I pastored for one that predicted the end time. She was a university professor with a PhD. Our congregation was “too liberal” for her, for we were not preparing for the end times, because we did not believe in the Bible. I pointed out to her that our lack of predicting the end of the world was evidence that we took the Bible seriously, since in it Jesus said what he did about not knowing the day or the hour when the end would come.

She replied, “But he did not say we could not know the month or the year.”

That is willful perversion. Anyone who understands the Bible even a little, has read it even a little, knows that Jesus often spoke in poetic language. When he said “day or hour,” he included month and year. The intent of the statement was clear—leave the end to God! Or as I like to say, “Just get ready and stay that way.”

That is what my friend, Bill White, did. That’s what my friend, Mike Dickey, did. And I could continue to call the roll. They did not have to know when the world would end. They just got ready and stayed that way. They knew the world would end for them one day. They were right.

Think of all those folks who predicted the end over the last two thousand years. They were right. The end did come for them. Jesus did return, for them.

That’s rather comforting, thinking of Jesus swinging low in that sweet chariot, coming for to carry me home.

The predictions of the end times and the return of Jesus are correct. It might happen for everyone together some day, but in the meantime, it will happen for each of us individually.

The point is not to know the day or the hour, or even the month or the year, about when the final end time will come. The point is to be ready when your end time comes.

John Robert McFarland

johnrobertmcfarland@gmail.com

 I tweet as yooper1721.

STICKING IT OUT 'TIL RECESS

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

In my third year of college, I was in my second year of preaching. I had “a three-point charge” [three churches]. I was out of sermons.

I never really had any sermons to begin with, so I was always behind the starting line. I worked hard all week, but by the time Sunday night came, I was out again.

When I had told the District Superintendent that I thought I was “called” to the ministry, I sort of hoped he would persuade me otherwise. Or at least tell me to come back after I had finished three more years of college and three of seminary [theological school]. Instead, he said, “Good. I’ve got three churches open. You can start this Sunday.”

After a year of scrabbling every week to create a sermon, as well as scrabbling to get through my classes, I needed help. So I went to The School of The Prophets, the week in August before school began, for ministers in our state, to get some inspiration and some ideas for the year ahead.

There I heard Webb Garrison. I still have his book, The Preacher and His Audience, but it was hearing him preach and lecture that convinced me of the power of storytelling. I still remember the story with which he led…

A little boy told his teacher he had a stomach ache. She sent him to the office. [Few schools in those days had nurses.] He returned, walking with his shoulders pulled far back and his stomach stuck way out. [Webb demonstrated.] “What are you doing?” the teacher asked. He replied, “The principal told me if I could stick it out ‘til recess, he’d take me home.”

It’s such a marvelous story, about the necessity of precise communication, but also about the necessity of persistence. I thought about it often when I was in the hospital. If I can just stick it out long enough, I can go home.

In fact, it’s a story about life in general, isn’t it? Death is sort of like recess. This life has its aches and pains, but if I can stick it out ‘til recess, God will take me home.

John Robert McFarland

johnrobertmcfarland@gmail.com

I started this blog several years ago, when we followed the grandchildren to the “place of winter,” Iron Mountain, in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula [The UP]. I put that in the sub-title, Reflections on Faith from a Place of Winter for the Years of Winter, where life is defined by winter even in the summer! [This phrase is explained in the post for March 20, 2014.]

I tweet as yooper1721.

They called them heroes. Then forgot about them. Joe Kirk lost a leg. Lonnie Blifield lost his eyes. Victoria Roundtree lost her skin. “Zan” Zander lost his mind. Four homeless and hopeless Iraqistan VETS who accidentally end up living together on an old school bus. With nowhere to go, and nothing else to do, they lurch from one VAMC to another, getting no help because, like the thousands of other Iraqistan VETS who are homeless, unemployed, and suicidal, they do not trust the system and refuse to “come inside.” After another fruitless stop, at the VAMC in Iron Mountain, Michigan, a doctor is found dead, and the VETS are accused of his murder. Distrustful, strangers to America, to each other, and even to themselves, they must become a unit to learn who really murdered the doctor, so that they can stay free. In doing so, they uncover far more, about themselves and about their country, than they dared even to imagine. Available from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, BOKO, Black Opal Books, and almost any place else that sells books.

$8.49 for paperback and $3.99 for ebook.

MATURING AND LIBERATION

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

I received a letter from a minister yesterday. He had read my book, THE STRANGE CALLING. It tells of how God tricked me into becoming a minister, and the events that followed over many years of pastoring, and trying to find out what God and faith and church and life are all about. [The Hokey Pokey is partially right when it claims that putting your foot in and shaking it is “what it’s all about,” but only partially.]

He made two statements that were especially interesting to me. One, “I wish I had matured as fast as you did.” Two, “I wish I had read this book years ago.”

I understand his second statement, I think. I feel the same way about Ed Friedman’s GENERATION TO GENERATION. I learned many things about families and churches and the church as a family from that book that I could have used much earlier in my career. THE STRANGE CALLING is just stories, not theory, but it’s often possible for us to learn more theory from a story than from theories. I think that’s what he meant, had he read those stories earlier, he could have applied them to his identity and to his work.

The first statement, maturing fast, maturing early, I’m not sure about. Yes, I matured early, because I had to, but that is not necessarily a good thing. Maturing early made me into an old man when I was young. Now that I am truly an old man, I’m much younger. In THE MATURE MIND, Gene D. Cohen, building on Erik Erikson’s stages of psycho-social development, notes three stages past the age of 60. The first is “liberation,” about age 60 to 70. “Summing up” is late 60 through 70s, maybe into 80s. The final stage he calls “encore.”

I like that word, “liberation.” Maturity is good. Liberation from maturity is even better.

John Robert McFarland

johnrobertmcfarland@gmail.com

I tweet as yooper1721.

They called them heroes. Then forgot about them. Joe Kirk lost a leg. Lonnie Blifield lost his eyes. Victoria Roundtree lost her skin. “Zan” Zander lost his mind. Four homeless and hopeless Iraqistan VETS who accidentally end up living together on an old school bus. With nowhere to go, and nothing else to do, they lurch from one VAMC to another, getting no help because, like the thousands of other Iraqistan VETS who are homeless, unemployed, and suicidal, they do not trust the system and refuse to “come inside.” After another fruitless stop, at the VAMC in Iron Mountain, Michigan, a doctor is found dead, and the VETS are accused of his murder. Distrustful, strangers to America, to each other, and even to themselves, they must become a unit to learn who really murdered the doctor, so that they can be free. In doing so, they uncover far more, about themselves and about their country, than they dared even to imagine. My new novel is available from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, BOKO, Black Opal Books, and almost any place else that sells books. $8.49 for paperback and $3.99 for Kindle.

MAKING SURE NOTHING HAPPENS

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

My first appointment after seminary was to The Wesley Foundation [Methodist campus ministry] at Indiana State University and Rose Polytechnic Institute [now Rose-Hulman University] in Terre Haute. Campus ministers were not trusted by the church. We were young and did not have stern and forbidding church members to keep us in line. So there was a Director of each WF, over the campus minister, the pastor of the local church next door, thus providing oversight and control over us young whipper-snappers. The Directors received a salary but didn’t actually do any of the work of The WF, except to veto something once in a while.

On my first day there, the Director called me over to his office and said, and this is a direct quote, “Let’s talk philosophy of campus ministry. I’ll go first. My approach is to stay on top of things at all times to be sure nothing happens.” My philosophy, of course, was to make sure something happened, regardless of what it was.

The good thing is that neither of our philosophies made any difference. The Holy Spirit ignores our philosophies and systems and flow charts and causes to happen that which is necessary to God, even if we are trying to make sure nothing happens, or even if we lose sight of the Spirit in the plethora of things we are trying to make happen just for their own sakes.

John Robert McFarland

johnrobertmcfarland@gmail.com

I tweet as yooper1721.

Joe Kirk lost a leg. Lonnie Blifield lost his eyes. Victoria Roundtree lost her skin. “Zan” Zander lost his mind. Four homeless and hopeless Iraqistan VETS who accidentally end up living together on an old school bus. With nowhere to go, and nothing else to do, they lurch from one VAMC to another, getting no help because, like the thousands of other Iraqistan VETS who are homeless, unemployed, and suicidal, they do not trust the system and refuse to “come inside.” After another fruitless stop, at the VAMC in Iron Mountain, Michigan, a doctor is found dead, and the VETS are accused of his murder. Distrustful, strangers to America, to each other, and even to themselves, they must become a unit to learn who really murdered the doctor, so that they can stay free. In doing so, they uncover far more, about themselves and about their country, than they dared even to imagine. VETS will be released by Black Opal Books on August 15, in paperback and ebook. It is available for pre-order now, from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, BOKO, Black Opal Books, and any independent book store.

SUNDAY EXPECTATIONS

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

It is Sunday morning, and I am preparing for church. We are going to a new church this morning. Well, the church is not new. This congregation has been around for a hundred years or two. And we have worshipped there before, when we were in college, and occasionally since. So we have expectations…

…that the church will be as we remember it from happy days of yore, with a magnificent choir composed of students pursuing vocal doctorates, and an amazing organist who is the dean of the school of music, and that since it is the cathedral church in the cathedral town of its district, that the appointed pastor will know his way around the pulpit, even though preachers don’t stay in pulpits much anymore…

…and if my expectations are not met, I shall complain, to my wife, and to God… oops…

Dietrich Bonhoeffer, in Life Together, says that a pastor should never complain about his/her congregation, certainly not to other people, and especially not to God. Not to God? If you can’t complain about off-key sopranos and thought-stuttering preachers to God, to whom can you…

Oh, that’s the point. Bonhoeffer goes on to say that it is not only preachers who should not complain about the congregations, but parishoners who should complain neither about the preacher nor other church members, because in doing so we lose our chance to hear what God is telling us.

When the church does not meet our expectations, it is because our expectations are in the way, not because God is not in the church. If the church is just as you want it, only your expectations are met, not the God who exceeds your expectations.

A “bad” worship experience allows us to meet the “good” God…if we examine ourselves and our expectations first, instead of jumping to conclusions and complaints.  

It is Christ who is the Word, the communication of God. Our assumptions and expectations and desires about Christ are only words, not Word. When our words stop being so noisy, we can hear the Word.

Pretty dense stuff, right? Not what you expected from Christ In Winter? Well, remember what was just said about expectations and complaining…

John Robert McFarland

johnrobertmcfarland@gmail.com

I started this blog several years ago, when we followed the grandchildren to the “place of winter,” Iron Mountain, in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula [The UP]. I put that in the sub-title, Reflections on Faith from a Place of Winter for the Years of Winter, where life is defined by winter even in the summer! [This phrase is explained in the post for March 20, 2014.] The grandchildren, though, are grown up, so in May, 2015 we moved “home,” to Bloomington, IN, where we met and married. It’s not a “place of winter,” but we are still in winter years of the life cycle, so I am still trying to understand what it means to be a follower of Christ in winter…

I tweet as yooper1721.

In the darkness that surrounds me--a poem

CHRIST IN WINTER: Reflections on life and faith for the years of winter…

In the darkness that surrounds

me, in the cold that fills

my bones, I call the names

of friends from days gone by

Uncles who were playmates

Grandfather I never knew

Boys who longed for fame

as we played the Hoosier

game, men who shared

their rations in the trenches

of this life

We hold the common cup

of memory, hope, and death

as we sit as one and wait

for the sun to rise

JRMcF

johnrobertmcrarland@gmail.com

I tweet as yooper1721

I AM PILGRIM...maybe

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

Christ In Winter is an unlikely venue for reviewing a book like I Am Pilgrim, [Atria, 2014] by Terry Hayes, especially since it is his first novel, and his former writing career was writing “Mad Max” movies. What could be spiritual or theological about a modern day spy thriller, in which the usual lone wolf hero, straight out of a Western movie in earlier times, chases down a lone wolf terrorist, bent on destroying America?

Actually, anything can be spiritual, and everything is theological, and that’s the rub here.

First, though, let me say that it’s a ripping good story, with great detail that is interesting rather than boring. Hayes has done a lot of research and uses it well, to advance the story, rather than using it to impress the reader with his research skill. It’s a thick book, 612 pp in pb, but thick does not mean dense. Just as a spy thriller, it’s an excellent piece of work [I can’t imagine writing this and keeping all the details straight], and a good thriller read.

Back to the rub… Is Hayes doing subtle theology, spiritually? Why does the hero choose “Pilgrim” as his under-cover name? Is it an evocation of Milton’s Pilgrim’s Progress? Or is it just John Wayne swaggering and calling everyone “Pilgrim” in one of his Western movies? And when Pilgrim quotes Mark 16:6 at the end, is he actually being biblical, especially since this novel is about the secret world of spies and Mark is the Gospel of “The Messianic Secret” [He could have gotten the same quote from a different Gospel.], or is it a grotesque misuse of the central tenet of Christian faith [resurrection]?

I can’t say more without ruining the story for you…

John Robert McFarland

johnrobertmcfarland@gmail.com

I tweet as yooper1721.

Joe Kirk lost a leg. Lonnie Blifield lost his eyes. Victoria Roundtree lost her skin. “Zan” Zander lost his mind. Four homeless and hopeless Iraqistan VETS who accidentally end up living together on an old school bus. With nowhere to go, and nothing else to do, they lurch from one VAMC to another, getting no help because, like the thousands of other Iraqistan VETS who are homeless, unemployed, and suicidal, they do not trust the system and refuse to “come inside.” After another fruitless stop, at the VAMC in Iron Mountain, Michigan, a doctor is found dead, and the VETS are accused of his murder. Distrustful, strangers to America, to each other, and even to themselves, they must become a unit to learn who really murdered the doctor, so that they can stay free. In doing so, they uncover far more, about themselves and about their country, than they dared even to imagine. My novel, VETS, will be released August 15 and is available for pre-order on Amazon, etc. now.

Air Is Never Empty-a poem

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

Tragedy and pathos should not walk

hand in hand, the way strangers

do as they approach the gallows

where even an unknown hand

is better than a futile grasp

on empty air

Yet air is never empty

Tragedy is deep

and pathos shallow

one a pit without

a bottom, one a saucer

full of empty air

Yet air is never empty

John Robert McFarland

johnrobertmcfarland@gmail.com

I tweet as yooper1721.

Digging [Not] in the Crimson Quarry

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

I applied for a job as a sports writer for The Crimson Quarry. It’s a web site that calls itself “An Indiana Hoosiers Community.” It covers all Indiana University sports. It’s a neat name. Crimson is one of the IU colors, along with Cream, and IU & Bloomington are famous for the local limestone quarries, especially because of the film, “Breaking Away.”

They didn’t say anything about pay, so I assume there is none, but the site is run by a few guys in their 20s who write spiffily, and are not in residence in Bloomington. So they “advertised” for someone who could cover events in Bloomington. Perfect for me, since I now live in Bloomington and am a spiffy writer.

One problem; I am old.

That was something I thought I could add to the CQ mix, the historical perspective. I have followed IU sports since the 1951 national champion basketball team of Don Schlundt and Dick Farley, who was from Winslow, a neighbor town of my home, Oakland City. I saw Farley play when he was in high school. I’m the only follower of IU sports who can tell you what it’s like to turn a corner in Jordan Hall and come face to face with Walt Bellamy’s belt buckle.

Alas, it has been many months, and the CQ has not responded to my offer. Others in Bloomington have welcomed my presence. The History Department even did a feature on my return. Well, no surprise that historians would like old people. The people who run the academic programs in the residence halls have even taken me to lunch so they can gain the historical perspective on their field that only one who has lived through it can offer.

The CQ editors do not seem to have the same interest in the history. Could it be that, despite their spiffiness, they are biased against old people?

Age bias hardly ever takes the virulent forms that racism and sexism and religious bias often do, but it is just as prevalent. It is more a bias of omission than commission, simply not noticing that we exist, or at least not acknowledging us.

That is not all bad. It is a good reminder that we are human beings, not human doings. I don’t have to write about a baseball game for either it or me to have meaning. The game has meaning, and so do I, just because we are there. Regardless of how old we are, we are all still children, children of God.

John Robert McFarland

johnrobertmcfarland@gmail.com

The picture is of the Pine Mountain ski jump in Iron Mountain, MI, the highest man-made ski jump in the world. I started this blog several years ago, when we followed the grandchildren to the “place of winter,” Iron Mountain, in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula [The UP]. I put that in the sub-title, Reflections on Faith from a Place of Winter for the Years of Winter, where life is defined by winter even in the summer! [This phrase is explained in the post for March 20, 2014.] The grandchildren, though, are grown up, so in May, 2015 we moved “home,” to Bloomington, IN, where we met and married. It’s not a “place of winter,” but we are still in winter years of the life cycle, so I am still trying to understand what it means to be a follower of Christ in winter. I have a picture that is more appropriate now for Indiana, boys playing basketball in winter snow, but I have not yet figured out how to replace the ski jump picture with the basketball picture.

I tweet as yooper1721.

UNDEVELOPED BRAINS

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

It is important for teen-agers to understand that the decision-making part of their brains is not yet fully developed, so they should be very careful in making decisions. The problem is, because those brains are not adequately developed, they don’t know that they are not.

It is important for old people to understand that the great-wisdom part of their brains is not yet fully developed, so they should be very careful in claiming great wisdom. The problem is…

It is important for politicians to understand that public office is for the public good, but they are too stupid to…

So, I hope German theologian and WWII martyr for the good, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, was right, when he said, “There are things more important than self-knowledge.”

John Robert McFarland

johnrobertmcfarland@gmail.com

I tweet as yooper1721.

AUGUST 3, A poem by May Sarton

CHRIST IN WINTER: Reflections on Faith from a place of winter For the Years of Winter…

A poem by May Sarton, [1912-1995] entitled “August Third.”

These days

Lifting myself up

Like a heavy weight,

Old camel getting to her knees,

I think of my mother

And the inexhaustible flame

That kept her alive

Until she died.

She knew all about fatigue

And how one pushes it aside

For staking up the lilies

Early in the morning,

The way one pushes it aside

For a friend in need,

For a hungry cat.

Mother, be with me,

Today on your birthday

I am older than you were

When you died

Thirty-five years ago.

Thinking of you

The old camel gets to her knees,

Stands up,

Moves forward slowly

Into the new day.

If you taught me one thing

It was never to fail life.

JRMcF

johnrobertmcfarland@gmail.com