Toccata and Fugue in D Minor, BWV 565 Johann Sebastian Bach

October 25, 2019, 7:00pm

at Calvary Church 27 Church Street, Stonington, CT

          The organ’s notes descend from the lofty heights; cascading down in torrents of inspiration upon our blessed heads in a chapel of wood and white and light robin’s egg blue. A scant seventy souls have gathered on this Friday evening to partake in the splendor of live, fine music. The building could hold twice, maybe thrice our number. Twenty dollars has bought such accomplished mastery, the hearing of such a divine offering by Mr. Bach himself—a song of worship that has served as background music in the Great Conversation that has stretched across time.

The organ sings gloriously from its balcony perch. Skillfully the organist’s hands play the inspiration of an ancient sage. Nimbly his fingers pounce upon the keys and cause the notes to vibrate forth into the night air, forth into our very being. The lower notes rumble and roll their way into my chest. Forward blast the notes rushing forth in space and time; recalling to my listening ears the reality of the ever-flowing stream of time rushing forward; faster and faster the sound courses through the sturdy wooden building and into our feeble fleshly frame.

Time passes and carves lines upon our face and scars upon our heart; mercilessly rumbling and rolling forward ceasing not its somber tones. Back and forth rock the hands of the organist; up and down race the notes, race my breaths and the beating of my heart. Up and down fly the organist’s hands; fly up and down as quickly as move the moments of my days. Dear God, give me time, an extended measure, a lengthy bar! Let me not depart this house wherein I am so temporarily confined without a completed song of praise to Your blessed Name!

          Arching, falling, rising —streams of praise pour forth from moving though silent lips and beating vibrant hearts, from strings and wood, from metal pipes and channeled air. The chapel is filling as new wine in a cup and brimming over with noble thoughts and purest notes to deliver an appropriate sonnet of thanksgiving and humble adoration to the God for whom these meticulously carved wooden arches point upward.

Instruments harmoniously weave their utterances of glory, silent voices of mind and heart join in the creation of this tapestry of praise. Oh, for a thousand tongues to sing! As Bach dedicated all his music Ad Dei Glorium —To the Glory of God— so too will I dedicate the music of my life to Him who is worthy of all.

         

God supplies. You build.

Fonthill
 Doylestown, Penna.

It was several years ago now, but I can still see it all so clearly...

I sit in the small, well-lit studio of the accomplished musician turned voice teacher. Her beautiful piano sings and her voice accompanies it. The ease with which she plays upon the keys is mesmerizing and the way her voice reaches into my spirit and sends it soaring upon the wind, like a colorful kite against the deep blue sky, is simply enchanting.

I listen to my son, whose voice has always mingled words and song, concentrate his powers upon a single, simple melody of, "Give Me Wings." It becomes, to me, a moment suspended in time; an act of worship and adoration of the gracious God I serve. All present fade into the background as I hear only the notes of sweetest tones; all of my powers of attention are now focused on my dear Father. I take a picture with my mind and with my pen. I never want to forget this precious moment and the truth my Father is about to teach me. I hurriedly imprint the following words upon a scrap of paper: "O, Dearest Lord, help me! Give me the strength, the tools I need to build this life of mine into a monument to Your grace."

I realize that God has provided the supplies to build a life and that I must devote myself to the sacred task of making, not just something of my life, but a monument of praise to Him. 

In order to erect anything of sustainability, beauty, or of any value at all, one must set forth with a distinct purpose, create a definite plan of action, and then follow through with diligent effort. The joy of the Lord is to be my strength as I carry out my task. Literally, the gladness of Jehovah will be my place of safety, my refuge and protection.

The fact that God gives us the ability and the free choice to build is remarkable! There is such freedom in the Christian life! God has laid the supplies at our feet and we may make of them whatever we wish. To God be the glory!

Breath. No breath.

Nine o’clock in the evening. My husband and I walk the wide corridor of the ICU. Just over an hour ago we were on our way home from dinner with expectations of a quiet evening, now we meet the eyes of concentrating nurses and weary doctors.

It was a text from my friend that changed everything that night: “Mom went into cardiac arrest Tuesday night. She is in ICU. Doesn’t look good. I’m sorry I haven’t kept in touch.”

Here it is room 410. I’ve never been to this hospital before. It’s clean. It’s cold. We turn the corner. Suddenly I sense the looming presence of something very dark, something very cold.

As the wide glass door to the room is opened and the curtain pulled back I notice some things: the patient’s eyes are closed; tubes and wires pump the semblance of life into her, artificially heaving the chest and pumping the blood round her mortal shell; the adult children’s eyes are fixed upon the doctor that speaks as he utters syllables in a non-committal tone while the nurses are bustling about with a sterile concern upon their faces.

I see my friend. She is a grown woman, now in her mid-thirties, but I still see her as a little girl. I was the family babysitter from the time she was an infant to the age of nine. Eventually life separated us. We went for so long without seeing each other, and even though we have spent some time together in the last 3 years, time in my heart stood still. She walks toward me. Hair is tussled and her face is tired from crying. I hold her close and she cries.

Ah, now I see the other one, her brother. Though he too is grown, I see not the signs of the years that have passed, only his boyish smile and sweet eyes; eyes that, in the years of my absence, have seen war and death and the rejection of the father that walked away from his young children. We hug. He thanks us for coming. He is a boy in the body of a man and she is a little girl trying to be a mommy and a wife.

I move toward the bed. There lies their mother. I realize very quickly that these two will soon be orphans. I see the death like stare in the eye that the doctor opens to help evaluate her condition. Her hands are swollen and are an odd color. Never have I witnessed such a scene before.

I look toward my friend who is desperately watching her mother. The girl within the woman cries out loud, “I’m so scared! Oh, mom, I’m so scared!” The boy within the man sits down with his head between his hands and says, “I’m losing my best friend and my mother all at once.” He sobs and sobs, “I couldn’t save her!”

The boy was with his mother when she had a massive heart attack. He called for help and proceeded to perform CPR until that help arrived. He had done the same thing for a fellow soldier in Iraq when two bullets pierced the heart. That soldier miraculously survived and he hoped for a similar outcome with his mother. The boy has been by her side since the heart attack, even sleeping in that very room on a window bench.

Talk of a “Do Not Resuscitate” order and of what mom would have wanted swirl about the room. The weight of decision presses down heavily upon the boy and the girl. Time has moved too quickly. The final grains of the hourglass of life tumble down the narrow passage; life and time rush to an end. Past and present rush together as two streams merging in a rocky place. Regrets and remembrances clamor for attention in the panicked minds of loved ones.

Wild is the storm that is rages as the mouth of eternity opens for another soul! My mind returns to another stormy night when the three of us huddled together in a large closet with a flashlight and prayed that the violent summer storm would pass and that mommy and daddy would come home quickly. Heart wrenching are the cries of grief! I long to hold them now and comfort them; to say a pray and to wipe their tears away and distract them with a treat or a toy or a favorite show and tell them it will all be okay. What a wild storm that whips through this room tonight! One will not survive it.

We huddle together again and pray. The girl curls up in the lap of the boy and they hold each other tightly as they weep. The vital signs are erratic now. The girl presses her head to her mother’s and cries, “It’s okay mom, you can let go,” all the while wishing she wouldn’t leave.

I notice the nurse has turned the monitor with the vital signs away from us. She alone is watching it with fixed eyes and a closed hand pressed to her face. We hold each other. We stand round the mother. I notice her hands, they are a strange blue. “Oh, dearest God, have mercy,” I pray. The children weep. Her arms are now like her hands. The pumps have stopped. Her body is still.

A doctor enters the room amidst the weeping and puts his stethoscope to her chest, looks up to us and shakes his head. “I’m very sorry,” he says. The storm has given wing to a spirit tonight and in its wake is an eerie calm broken only by sobbing. Sixty-eight years of life and breath; and then there was none.

Indeed, a thin veil is draped between the present and eternity. An imperceptible moment it is when the soul takes its flight to regions beyond. A birth, and there is noise and life and hopes and dreams; a death, and there is silence and loss and nothing.

A shell of man lying before us reminds those of us whose shells are still inhabited that we too will face the silencing of our life song; that we who remain should live and move and breathe and love. Breath. No breath. In the land of the living may this precious substance of breath, the most precious of temporary gifts, be used to convey our love to God and to man.

The final note of praise in the grand musical score of the Psalms sounds like this: “Let every thing that hath breath praise the LORD. Praise ye the LORD.”  May this note be the constant of our life, and may it be the note that forms our life song; and may this song form the bridge from this life to the next as we join the chorus of the ages in the glad and sweet refrain of, “Blessing and honor, and glory, and power be unto him that sitteth upon the throne, and unto the Lamb for ever and ever,” as our faith is turned to sight. Amen.

“Wherefore we receiving a kingdom which cannot be moved, let us have grace, whereby we may serve God acceptable with reverence and godly fear: for our God is a consuming fire.” Hebrews 12:28-29

For the Love of a Tree

Plane Tree, planted 1680

Ombra Mai Fu (Never Was A Shade)

"Tender and beautiful fronds
of my beloved plane tree,
let Fate smile upon you.
May thunder, lightning, and storms
never disturb your dear peace,
nor may you by blowing winds be profaned.

Never was a shade
of any plant
dearer and more lovely,
or more sweet."

     I understand! I have heard this piece of music before. This time, however, noticing the title I wanted to translate the words to discover what had so inspired the composer to create such beautiful sounds. "Ombra Mai Fu" means, "Never Was a Shade." How intriguing! My eyes fell immediately on a picture of a stately tree. I glanced quickly back to read the words of this small work of grand feeling and at once I began to weep. I understand this love, this feeling of beauty and reverence! I understand the impulsion that caused the author to pen words and string sounds to describe something that embodies so much meaning and feeling deep within the breast. 

     The poem speaks of the Plane Tree. The tree is one of those grand sorts of trees; tall and lovely with a thick, grey-brown twisty kind of trunk and branches staggered along it reaching first out and then up. The leaves have a lime-green hue. The base of the tree pictured has a large opening where someone could climb into and hide—a grand, glorious tree! A wonder! A creation designed to pierce the conscience and lift the heart and mind to higher regions.

     I love the works of God in creation that make me feel as if He had just left the very place where I now stand; and the smell of Him and the imprints of His hands can almost be perceived. The air is suddenly sweet and still and the light is seemingly altered.  A quickening of my spirit arouses my senses and my soul perceives His presence and my heart hears His voice. 

     To me, a tree is a symbol of permanence, fortitude and perseverance. It is a monument. It sees generations of small hands, toddling feet, curious climbers and shade-seekers; boys who think they are cowboys and girls setting up for tea. It hears their whispers, laughter and tears. It feels the weight of the mother's back pressed upon it, and the weight of her head as she looks upwards through the leaves to her Jehovah Jireh(The Lord will provide) and her El Roi (The One who sees her). 

     Sometimes, I come across two trees that stand as sentinels, flanking an empty space where once stood a  home; a place where a mother cleaned and swept endless dirt and children let the screen door slam behind them as they unmindfully galloped through reality while in their imaginary world.  A tree provides shelter for birds and shade for man; memorials for a loved one gone and a meeting place for a loved one near.

     Oh! The lessons of the trees! Hope is found as I see their branches flail and their trunks sway in a summer storm. What pleasure there is to witness the beauty as their leaves catch the glorious rays of sunset or the life-giving dew from heaven, testifying to God's faithful care. Every season brings its particular battering rams; but in the resistance springs the strength. 

     Life is a series of continual changes for me but the trees stand erect, firm, and resolute. Marks of age reside within their bark, mine reside without. I look out my window to the same trees, same scene, and I praise my God who changes not and who will fortify me with the strength I need to stand erect, firm and resolute until my task of shading, protecting, memorializing, hearing the laughter, tears, prayers, and whispers of loved ones is done. 

Ardent Devotion

My daughter and her beloved
 October 21, 2017

In my mind I can see the newlywed wife as she scurries round the house straightening up, checking on the dinner cooking in the kitchen, changes into a clean outfit and fixes her hair. Her beloved is coming home. Throughout the day her thoughts have centered back on him. She has planned a meal she knows he enjoys and has prepared this meal with a loving touch. She is devoted to him for he has committed himself to her and expresses his devotion through word and deed. The door opens and their eyes meet. The object of her affection is now before her and it feels like home.

Morning light has broken the dark hold of night. I move from my darkened room toward the eastern corner of my home. Warm light filters in through the windows and instinctively I draw near. I am here again and so is He. His letter to me sits on the small table beside the soft chair. I faintly hear the birds gratefully accepting their morning meal from the feeder hanging just outside and in the stillness of the rooms I am reminded of a sovereign God’s watchful eye over all His creation. I step into the embrace of my loving Father. I feel His deep love for me and my deep need for Him. I must have this glimpse of glory in the morning hours to prepare me for what I will face in the course of the day. My eye meets His as I look into His Word and I hear His voice through the text on the page; and it feels like home.

Why Ardent Devotion?

True love doesn’t end with feeling but with action. How do I express love and gratitude to the object of my affection? A love like I’ve never known was birthed in me when, upon hearing the Gospel message, the realization of my great sins and His great sacrifice tore through my soul. Profound guilt ravaged my conscience but with the acceptance of His profound love for me was burned up and swept away by desperate gratefulness and enormous relief. He saved my soul from the precipice of the burning depths of eternity. Such love can only be expressed in ardent devotion. Knowing that true love must be expressed in action, what would this ardent devotion to Jesus look like in my daily life?

Absorbing the Glory of His Presence

To begin with, I would give Him the first moments of my day in praise, prayer, and study. Adoration of His name would be the melody line of my song of praise. I wouldn’t miss a chance to sit quietly before the King of Kings, to hear from Him and to break open the bread of life and sup with Him, gaining nourishment for my soul. What an appointment to keep! What an opportunity to enter the holy of holies and minister unto Him while, at the same time, being ministered unto! As Moses’ face reflected the glory of God from his time spent with Him, so should mine glow not only from the flame of the Holy Spirit within, but also from my morning time spent dwelling in the brightness of the glory of His presence.

As Unto the Lord

Secondly, I would realize that God has placed me in a specific station or place of service. In my life, wife and mother is a calling from Him, therefore I must seek to fulfill those duties as unto Him. Practically speaking I would diligently keep house and care for all those who live here and for all who would pass over this threshold. I would see it as my duty to pray for them, to plan for them and to prepare for ways to bless them. I would seek to press on in this ministry that He has selected for me knowing it is my duty to enthusiastically encourage other believers to keep on trusting Him and to grow their faith in Him and to be a shining light that points to Christ for all those who have yet to come to know Him, beginning first with those in my own home.

Practicing the Presence of Christ

Lastly, ardent devotion would cause my thoughts to circle back around to Christ continually throughout my day. To help my mind in this I would fill it with thoughts of Him through Scripture and song so that my lips naturally speak of Him and His work of grace in my life. Ardent devotion would cause me to understand that all of life should be lived as before Him; every moment of everyday living in constant communion with Him. “Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on Thee: for he trusteth in Thee.” (Isaiah 26:3) A calm, content stillness will possess my being as all thoughts are passed first through the truths of God’s word.

The Beauty of Holiness

Psalm 29:2 calls us to “Give unto the LORD the glory due unto his name; worship the LORD in the beauty of holiness.” The beauty of holiness spoken here is the adornment of apartness and sacredness. A still and sacred holy place should be carved out within me as a dwelling place for Him who filleth the earth with His blessings and made the stars also. Have I been so foolish to forget that He is nearer to me than breathing? Know I not that God moves with purpose and in love and that He has chosen me a vessel fit for the Master’s use? I will stand in awe and seek to live with the touch of God in my fingertips and the love of God in my eyes. Holiness gives me a special kind of beauty that is well pleasing to my gracious heavenly Father.

Sweet communion as beloved speaks with beloved and lives his life yearning to please the other. True love must be seen in true action. Married or single, God awaits your loving devotion to Him. “Thou wilt shew me the path of life: in thy presence is fullness of joy; at thy right hand there are pleasures for evermore.” (Psalm 16:11)

Beauty

Beautiful for beauty's sake. Arrayed in pink petal splendor with perhaps no one to see but God. A brief show of perfection for an audience of One. A Peony explosion on a Spring day. How much of beauty do I miss? What gems of perfection are quietly dwelling nearby? This I happened upon; how much is there that I fail to see?

Autumn Leaves, 28 October 2015

     Leaves littering the slate walk, their comrades loitering about the branches above.  A morning view of golden yellow leaves, like a Chinese silken robe against a pale, blue sky. Tones of olive and yellow green; a tinge of burnt orange across the rolling landscape. Distant puffs of clouds tinted morning orange. (It's good to be alive to see this.) A fiery red autumnal bush going out in a blaze of glory. The sentinel whole moon keeping its vigil 'til morning is safely settled in.

     Times are changing, it is true, but there is glory to be seen if we keep our eyes wide open and stop longing for the green. In the grand chorus of nature, hope and beauty can always be found if you strive to look up and out and not just to the ground. 

     A field draped in a misty robe. A line of geese gliding low across the sky. I long to be where time moves more slowly; perhaps even where it is forgotten altogether. Just let me sit and gaze upon the beauty, or walk among the trees with my loved ones sitting by, and think upon the LORD who made it all; and with a grateful heart, take my rest in His praise and bask in His deep, deep love.

....sounds like heaven.

    

The True Normal Life

"To be on intimate terms with Him, to live in the atmosphere of His presence, to spend the day with Him--that is the true normal life."

From, Tiger and Tom, "A Picture of God"

The Old Apple Tree

     Walking with God. Every day. He is there anyway. Talk with Him. Praise His name continually. Bring Him into every conversation. This truly is the normal life. 

     To think that He somehow drops in on us occasionally just to check in is a lie. He said, "I will never leave you nor forsake you." (Heb 13:5) Also, "Lo, I am with you alway." (Matt 28:20) His presence is ever near. We are so easily deceived when we feel we have some private place set apart from God. "What? Know ye not that your body is the temple of the Holy Ghost which is in you, which ye have of God, and ye are not your own?" (1 Cor 6:19)

     Regarding the indwelling of Christ, a child asked his mother, "How am I to know He is come, mother?" Her reply, "When you are quite gentle, sweet, and happy, it is because Christ is within." (C. Mason, Home Education) His presence alters you. When you allow yourself to be conscious of His presence, your life will take on a different shape; slowly and oft times painfully due to the powerful force of self, formed into the image of Christ. "And as we have borne the image of the earthly, we shall also bear the image of the heavenly." (1 Cor 15:49)

     There is within your breast a legion of voices calling out in distraction, filling your thoughts with hate and lies. Your thoughts are an access point where Satan can attack your inner core. Why do you think the verses relating to how we think are so prominent in the Bible? The fortification of our soul must have no weak points. "Let this mind be in you, which was also in Christ Jesus." (Phil 2:5) "And be not conformed to this world: but be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind..." (Rom 12:2) As we follow the command to, "Love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind," (Matt 22:37) we will be very careful to allow only truth to dwell within, for it is a certain truth that He dwells within. And think, "Can two walk together accept they be agreed?" (Amos 3:3) And how can darkness dwell with light? What confusion of soul and mind comes from two opposing kingdoms striving for mastery within! "He that saith, I know him, and keepeth not his commandments, is a liar, and the truth is not in him." (1 John 1:4)
     Christ came, "To open their eyes, and to turn them from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan unto God, that they may receive forgiveness of sins, and inheritance among them which are sanctified by faith that is in me." (Acts 26:18) "Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls." (Matt 11:28-29) Believe you not that He is ever present, even now, moving throughout you: weaving through the catacombs of your thoughts, deciphering your motives, coursing through your very being?  And that, though He knows all of you He loves you with an everlasting love and with a desire to give you an abundant life; a divine life, a life spent with Him every moment of every day, the end of which will never come?

     Micah 6:8, "He hath shewed thee, O man, what is good; and what doth the LORD require of thee, but to do justly, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with thy God?" (Micah 6:8) "Nothing less is required of every one who bears the Christian name...It speaks of a life of prayer and communion with the Eternal; each day begun with fresh self-dedication to Him, and ended in the serene consciousness of His love. Never be contented with a lower level. Never be tempted to imagine that even a life of honesty and benevolence will suffice. Never be satisfied to live a day without intercourse with Heaven." (Thayer, Gaining Favor with God and Man)
     Did you ever notice after having spent a great deal of time with someone who speaks with an accent that you find yourself mimicking their speech pattern, even using the same vocabulary? As you immerse yourself in conversation with God, drinking in the language of the Bible, seeking the mind of God in the pages of Scripture and expanding your vocabulary by taking the time to learn the meaning of those rich Old English words, you will find that not only your thought patterns will change, but your speech patterns as well. Truly, what we admire we emulate; what we love, we become.