Let Us Not Mock God with Metaphor

Seven Stanzas at Easter
John Updike, 1960

Make no mistake: if He rose at all
it was as His body;
if the cells’ dissolution did not reverse, the molecules
reknit, the amino acids rekindle,
the Church will fall.

It was not as the flowers,
each soft Spring recurrent;
it was not as His Spirit in the mouths and fuddled
eyes of the eleven apostles;
it was as His flesh: ours.

The same hinged thumbs and toes,
the same valved heart
that–pierced–died, withered, paused, and then
regathered out of enduring Might
new strength to enclose.

Let us not mock God with metaphor,
analogy, sidestepping, transcendence;
making of the event a parable, a sign painted in the
faded credulity of earlier ages:
let us walk through the door.

The stone is rolled back, not papier-mâché,
not a stone in a story,
but the vast rock of materiality that in the slow
grinding of time will eclipse for each of us
the wide light of day.

And if we will have an angel at the tomb,
make it a real angel,
weighty with Max Planck’s quanta, vivid with hair,
opaque in the dawn light, robed in real linen
spun on a definite loom.

Let us not seek to make it less monstrous,
for our own convenience, our own sense of beauty,
lest, awakened in one unthinkable hour, we are
embarrassed by the miracle,
and crushed by remonstrance.

Learning from the Birds

Overheard in an Orchard
Elizabeth Cheney

Said the robin to the sparrow,
"I would really like to know
why those anxious human beings
rush around and worry so."

Said the sparrow to the robin,
"Friend, I think that it must be
that they have no Heavenly Father
such as cares for you and me."

The Voice of Silence

Silence Has a Voice
Justin Wainscott

Silence has a voice.
Sometimes it whispers;
sometimes it roars.
It can sound like snow,
or it can sound like thunder.
But make no mistake,
it speaks - speaks
to those who have
the ears to hear.
Shhh! Can you hear it?

Pondering Pleasure

Simple Pleasures?
M. Justin Wainscott, 2013

They say, "Simple minds
have simple pleasures."
And they may be right.
But I'd prefer to think
that I take pleasure
in the profundity
of simple things.

Of course, that might
just be because
I'm too simple-minded
to know the difference.

Crying Over Meaningful Things

Grown Man Crying
© 2011, M. Justin Wainscott

I saw a grown man cry today,
But I didn't pity him.
I admired him,
Because he cared so deeply
about something (or someone)
that it moved him to tears.
Oh, that more grown men would cry
over meaningful things.

Religious Hubris vs. Gospel Humility

Theological Antonyms
© 2011, Justin Wainscott

The opposite of
religious hubris
is gospel humility.

Religious hubris breeds superiority
on the grounds of moral performance.
But it's a misplaced superiority,
because it's built on a lie.
All who gather on those grounds
will surely fall.

Gospel humility yields unity
at the foot of the cross.
And it's an appropriate unity,
because it's built on the truth.
All who gather there
stand on a sure and firm foundation.

Religious hubris
sees no need for a Savior.
Gospel humility
sees not only the need for a Savior,
but the Savior himself
meeting that very need.

Religious hubris stands tall,
but will one day be brought low.
Gospel humility bows low,
but will one day be exalted.

Praise Our Pardoning God

Redeemed, Restored, Forgiven
Henry Baker, 1821-1877

Redeemed, restored, forgiven,
Through Jesus’ precious blood,
Heirs of His home in heaven,
Oh, praise our pardoning God!
Praise Him in tuneful measures
Who gave His Son to die;
Praise Him Whose sev’nfold treasures
Enrich and sanctify.

Once on the dreary mountain
We wandered far and wide,
Far from the cleansing fountain,
Far from the piercèd side;
But Jesus sought and found us
And washed our guilt away;
With cords of love He bound us
To be His own for aye.

Dear Master, Thine the glory
Of each recovered soul,
Ah! who can tell the story
Of love that made us whole?
Not ours, not ours, the merit;
Be Thine alone the praise,
And ours a thankful spirit
To serve Thee all our days.

Now keep us, holy Savior,
In Thy true love and fear,
And grant us of Thy favor
The grace to persevere;
Till, in Thy new creation,
Earth’s time-long travail o’er,
We find our full salvation
And praise Thee evermore.

Turn My Tears to Praise

Salvation, Oh, Melodious Sound
Phillip Doddridge, 1702-1751

Salvation, oh, melodious sound,
To wretched, dying men!
Salvation that from God proceeds,
And leads to God again.

Rescued from hell's eternal gloom,
From fiends, and fires, and chains;
Raised to a paradise of bliss,
Where love triumphant reigns.

But, oh, may a degenerate soul,
Sinful and weak as mine,
Presume to raise a trembling eye
To blessings so divine?

The luster of so bright a bliss
My feeble heart o'erbears;
And unbelief almost perverts
The promise into tears.

My Savior God, no voice but Thine
These dying hopes can raise;
Speak Thy salvation to my soul,
And turn its tears to praise.

My Savior God, this broken voice,
Transported shall proclaim;
And call on the angelic harps,
To sound so sweet a name.

Joys Like Those Above

Joy Is a Fruit That Will Not Grow
John Newton, 1725-1807

Joy is a fruit that will not grow
In nature’s barren soil;
All we can boast, till Christ we know,
Is vanity and toil.

But where the Lord has planted grace;
And made His glories known;
There fruits of heavenly joy and peace
Are found, and there alone.

A bleeding Savior seen by faith,
A sense of pard’ning love;
A hope that triumphs over death,
Give joys like those above.

To take a glimpse within the veil,
To know that God is mine;
Are springs of joy that never fail,
Unspeakable, divine!

Boasting Only in Christ

No More, My God
Isaac Watts, 1674-1748

No more, my God, I boast no more
Of all the duties I have done;
I quit the hopes I held before,
To trust the merits of Thy Son.

Now, for the love I bear His name,
What was my gain I count my loss;
My former pride I call my shame,
And nail my glory to His cross.

Yes, and I must and will esteem
All things but loss for Jesus’ sake:
O may my soul be found in Him,
And of His righteousness partake!

The best obedience of my hands
Dares not appear before Thy throne;
But faith can answer Thy demands
By pleading what my Lord has done.

Sinner, Look to Christ and Live

As the Serpent Raised By Moses
John Newton, 1725-1807

As the serpent raised by Moses
Healed the burning serpent’s bite;
Jesus thus Himself discloses
To the wounded sinner’s sight:
Hear His gracious invitation,
“I have life and peace to give,
I have wrought out full salvation,
Sinner, look to Me and live."

“Pore upon your sins no longer,
Well I know their mighty guilt;
But My love than death is stronger,
I My blood have freely spilt:
Though your heart has long been hardened,
Look on Me—it soft shall grow;
Past transgressions shall be pardoned,
And I’ll wash you white as snow."

“I have seen what you were doing,
Though you little thought of Me;
You were madly bent on ruin,
But I said—It shall not be:
You had been for ever wretched,
Had I not espoused your part;
Now behold My arms outstretched
To receive you to My heart."

Well may shame, and joy, and wonder,
All your inward passions move;
I could crush thee with My thunder,
But I speak to thee in love:
See! your sins are all forgiven,
I have paid the countless sum!
Now My death has opened Heaven,
Thither you shall shortly come.

Dearest Savior, we adore Thee
For Thy precious life and death;
Melt each stubborn heart before Thee,
Give us all the eye of faith:
From the law’s condemning sentence,
To Thy mercy we appeal;
Thou alone canst give repentance,
Thou alone our souls canst heal.

Death Has Received a Deadly Bruise

Ye Christians, Hear the Joyful News
Joseph Hart, 1712-1768

Ye Christians, hear the joyful news,
Death has received a deadly bruise;
Our Lord has made his empire fall,
And conquered him that conquered all.

Though doomed are all men once to die,
Yet we by faith death's power defy;
We soon shall feel his bands unbound,
Awakened by the Archangel's sound.

The trump of God shall rend the rocks,
And open adamantine locks;
Come forth the dead from death's dark dome,
And Jesus call His ransomed home.

The Joys and Lessons of Failed Work

Sabbath Poem IX. (2007)
Wendell Berry

I go by a field where once
I cultivated a few poor crops.
It is now covered with young trees,
for the forest that belongs here
has come back and reclaimed its own.
And I think of all the effort
I have wasted and all the time,
and of how much joy I took
in that failed work and how much
it taught me. For in so failing
I learned something of my place,
something of myself, and now
I welcome back the trees.

In Lowly Pomp Ride On to Die

As we approach Palm Sunday and reflect upon Jesus' Kingly entrance into Jerusalem riding on a beast of burden, may this hymn remind us why He came.

Ride On, Ride On in Majesty
Henry Hart Milman, 1791-1868

Ride on, ride on in majesty!
In lowly pomp ride on to die:
O Christ! Thy triumphs now begin
O'er captive death and conquered sin.

Ride on, ride on in majesty!
The winged squadrons of the sky
Look down, with sad and wondering eyes,
To see th' approaching sacrifice.

Ride on, ride on in majesty!
Thy last and fiercest strife is nigh:
The Father, on His sapphire throne,
Awaits His own anointed Son.

Ride on, ride on in majesty!
In lowly pomp ride on to die:
Bow Thy meek head to mortal pain;
Then take, O God, Thy power, and reign!

Jesus Whispers This Sweet Sentence - "Son, Thy Sins Are All Forgiv'n"

Lamb of God, We Fall Before Thee
Joseph Hart, 1712-1768

Lamb of God, we fall before Thee,
Humbly trusting in Thy cross.
That alone be all our glory;
All things else are only dross.
Thee we own a perfect Savior,
Only source of all that’s good.
Every grace and every favor
Comes to us through Jesus’ blood.

Jesus gives us true repentance
By His Spirit sent from Heav’n;
Jesus whispers this sweet sentence,
“Son, thy sins are all forgiv’n.”
Faith He grants us to believe it,
Grateful hearts His love to prize;
Want we wisdom? He must give it,
Hearing ears and seeing eyes.

Jesus gives us pure affections,
Wills to do what He requires,
Makes us follow His directions,
And what He commands, inspires.
All our prayers and all our praises,
Rightly offered in His Name—
He that dictates them is Jesus;
He that answers is the same.

When we live on Jesus' merit,
Then we worship God aright,
Father, Son, and Holy Spirit,
Then we savingly unite.
Hear the whole conclusion of it;
Great or good, whate'er we call,
God, or King, or Priest, or Prophet,
Jesus Christ is All in All.

The World's Pleasures No Longer Please

Let Worldly Minds the World Pursue
John Newton, 1725-1807

Let worldly minds the world pursue,
It has no charms for me;
Once I admired its trifles too,
But grace has set me free.

Its pleasures now no longer please,
No more content afford;
Far from my heart be joys like these;
Now I have seen the Lord.

As by the light of opening day
The stars are all concealed;
So earthly pleasures fade away,
When Jesus is revealed.

Creatures no more divide my choice,
I bid them all depart;
His name, and love, and gracious voice,
Have fixed my roving heart.

Now, Lord, I would be Thine alone,
And wholly live to Thee;
But may I hope that Thou wilt own
A worthless worm, like me?

Yes! though of sinners I’m the worst,
I cannot doubt Thy will;
For if Thou hadst not loved me first
I had refused Thee still.

Let God Be True and Every Man a Liar

The God I Trust Is True and Just
Joseph Hart, 1712-1768

The God I trust is true and just;
His mercy has no end;
Himself has said my ransom's paid,
And on him I depend.

Then why so sad, my soul? Though bad,
Thou hast a Friend that's good;
He bought thee dear (abandon fear);
He bought thee with his blood.

So rich a cost can ne'er be lost,
Though faith be tried by fire;
Keep Christ in view; let God be true;
And every man a liar.

The Power of Poetry

On Poetry
Justin Wainscott, © 2011

Have you ever noticed
that when people want to say
something significant,
something memorable,
something striking,
they reach for poetry
rather than prose?

Think of life's most
meaningful moments -
graduations, weddings, funerals.
Think of history's most
stirring speeches -
political, religious, dramatic.
What do most of these
hold in common?
The presence of poetry.

In Honor of My Grandmother

My grandmother turned 97 years old this week, and this is one of her favorite hymns.

What a Friend We Have in Jesus
Joseph Scriven, 1819-1866

What a Friend we have in Jesus,
All our sins and griefs to bear!
What a privilege to carry
Everything to God in prayer!
O what peace we often forfeit,
O what needless pain we bear,
All because we do not carry
Everything to God in prayer.

Have we trials and temptations?
Is there trouble anywhere?
We should never be discouraged;
Take it to the Lord in prayer.
Can we find a friend so faithful
Who will all our sorrows share?
Jesus knows our every weakness;
Take it to the Lord in prayer.

Are we weak and heavy laden,
Cumbered with a load of care?
Precious Savior, still our refuge,
Take it to the Lord in prayer.
Do your friends despise, forsake you?
Take it to the Lord in prayer!
In His arms He’ll take and shield you;
You will find a solace there.

Blessed Savior, Thou hast promised
Thou wilt all our burdens bear.
May we ever, Lord, be bringing
All to Thee in earnest prayer.
Soon in glory bright unclouded,
There will be no need for prayer;
Rapture, praise and endless worship
Will be our sweet portion there.

Can the Ear of Sovereign Grace Be Deaf When I Complain?

Dear Refuge of My Weary Soul
Anne Steele, 1716-1778

Dear refuge of my weary soul,
On Thee, when sorrows rise,
On Thee, when waves of trouble roll,
My fainting hope relies.

To Thee I tell each rising grief,
For Thou alone canst heal;
Thy Word can bring a sweet relief,
For every pain I feel.

But oh! when gloomy doubts prevail,
I fear to call Thee mine;
The springs of comfort seem to fail,
And all my hopes decline.

Yet gracious God, where shall I flee?
Thou art my only trust;
And still my soul would cleave to Thee,
Though prostrate in the dust.

Hast Thou not bid me seek Thy face,
And shall I seek in vain?
And can the ear of sovereign grace,
Be deaf when I complain?

No; still the ear of sovereign grace
Attends the mourner's prayer;
Oh may I ever find access,
To breathe my sorrows there!

Thy mercy seat is open still,
Here let my soul retreat;
With humble hope attend Thy will,
And wait beneath Thy feet.