Scientists have finally discovered another earth. Well, sort of.
Earlier this month NASA’s Kepler space telescope team announced the discovery of “Kepler-22b,” located in what is called a “habitable zone,” meaning an environment that’s not too hot or too cold for the possibility of life. And just last week, the team unveiled two other earth-sized planets, Kepler-20e and Kepler-20f, although they are not in the habitable zone.
“This discovery shows that we Homo sapiens are straining our reach into the universe to find planets that remind us of home. We are almost there,” said Geoff Marcy of the University of California, Berkeley, one of the world’s leaders in the search for planets.
But apparently a lot of space exists between those two words, “almost,” and “there.” Being reminded of home and finding another earth is more than a world or an earth apart. Kepler-22b for instance, is 600 light years away. Traveling by space shuttle, it would take 22 million years to get there. And Kepler 22b’s size, 2.4 times the size of earth, makes it too big for an atmosphere like earth’s, according to planetary scientist Lena Noack.
Yet scientists are invigorated by the possibility of finding another earth: “You can bet that the hunt is on to find…a true earth twin,” avers astronomer David Charbonneau of Harvard University.
Although I’ve never been a science fiction fan, the dreamer in me is fascinated with the concept of another earth and what it would be like.
The 2011 film, Another Earth, explored the idea of another earth as an opportunity for a second chance in life, a place where a parallel you exists with another, possibly better life. The producers used astrophysicist, Dr. Richard Berendzen, (author of Pulp Physics) for the background voice asking the probing questions about a parallel earth and our place in it: “Could we even recognize ourselves, and if we did, would we know ourselves? What would we say to ourselves? What would we learn from ourselves? What would we really like to see if we could stand outside ourselves and look at us?”
The truth is, we don’t have to travel 22 million years in space to find a place where we can ask those or similar questions. Standing on the precipice of a New Year is occasion enough to step outside ourselves and take inventory of who we are, really.
Do we know what to say to ourselves? Do we know the self to whom we speak? Are we strangers to ourselves?
C.G. Jung, the Swiss psychoanalyst, wrote about an inner dimension he referred to as the True Self. For Jung, this Self, as author Sue Monk Kidd points out, doesn’t refer to the ego, as in myself, but to the Center of our being, the image of God within us. As we find and cultivate that place we discover our True Self.
It’s the place Jesus of Nazareth described as being, “The Kingdom of God within you” (Luke 17:21), and when we reject it, we also deny our True Self. As Thomas Merton, the Trappist monk of Gethsemani Abby said, “My false and private self is the one who wants to exist outside the reach of God’s will and God’s love...And such a self cannot help but be an illusion.” For Merton, the secret of our identity, our True Self, is “hidden in the love and mercy of God.”
Sometime between now and the New Year, I think I’ll step outside and peering into the universe, ponder the possibility of another earth, and then, I’ll look within, and even though I’m not there---still without all the answers---I’ll find comfort in the words of the young theologian, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, who before being martyred by the Nazis, concluded his poem, “Who Am I?” with the line, “Whoever I am, Thou knowest, O God, I am Thine!”
Knowing the same One who has me also has the universe and all that’s in it, I’ll then say “Yes,” to my True Self, and taking God’s hand, step boldly into another New Year.
Contact David B. Whitlock, Ph.D., at drdavid@davidbwhitlock.com or visit his website, www.davidbwhitlock.com
Friday, December 30, 2011
Thursday, December 22, 2011
Surviving Christmas in a blended family
Christmas can be tough, especially for blended families. And apparently there are plenty of them. It’s been estimated that more than half of Americans live in some form of a blended family. Stepfamily therapist, Steven Straub, believes that the blended family will become, if it’s not already, the predominate family structure in the United States.
One of the major stressors during the holiday season involves the dynamics involved in blending a family. The holiday season comes packaged with enough tension already, what with gifts to buy, traffic to fight, and programs to attend. When you throw in the jealousies of a step grandmother, or the vengefulness of an ex-spouse, or the hurt feelings of stepchildren, or the insecurity of stepsiblings, (the variables for family strife are virtually endless) a veritable boiling cauldron of emotions threatens to spill over into the dream of the quaint family Christmas, scalding any possibility of what peace and joy might have been.
Eight years ago I experienced my first Christmas with our blended family. With each Christmas our family has drawn closer as together we’ve experienced the challenge of each holiday.
I’ve learned a few lessons that have helped me grow with my blended family during the holiday season.
I ceased chasing that perfect Christmas; it doesn’t exist; there never was one and never will be. God could have made that first Christmas a perfect one, but he didn’t. No room was left in the inn; and the holy family was homeless. Maybe God was trying to tell us something: Life is experienced in the struggle---in brokenness, in hurt, and in pain. Just as he was there in a dirty stable the first Christmas, so God is in the midst of our families’ messiness.
Releasing the pressure of finding the perfect Christmas freed us to try new things. We’ve taken past traditions and incorporated them into our family in ways that created something different. For instance, we open some presents on Christmas Eve (a tradition from my family) and some on Christmas morning (a tradition in Lori’s family), and in so doing started a new tradition.
I’ve also learned that no matter the number of children (we have four) in a blended family, each child is different, and each child is the same. Each has unique characteristics, but they all have the same basic emotional needs: love, acceptance, security, attention. In healthy family relations those needs can be met. Maybe that’s why the biblical character, King David, described God as a “father to the fatherless, a defender of widows,” a God who “places the lonely in families” (Psalm 68:5, 6).
Christmas season bristles with emotions so tense they sometimes seem to ricochet off the walls. I like the words of the Apostle Paul when he admonished his readers to “take care of those who are weak” (I Thessalonians 5:14). Often, during Christmas, those in blended families are experiencing the deep pain of broken relationships or feeling the emptiness of a loved one who is no longer there. Or maybe both.
It’s perhaps the sense of loss---the absence of a parent or child at Christmas, the grief of what once was and never will be again---that is most pronounced in blended families. But, the void felt by changed circumstances cuts across the emotional landscape of all family structures, however “family” may be defined.
My mother and father are encountering the emotions experienced with their first Christmas in a retirement facility. “I miss the smells of cooking in my own kitchen, decorating my house, and inviting friends over,” Mom confided to me the other day. And then with added insight, “One thing about it, life is about change, no matter your age or where you are.”
Or the type of family you’re in.
It’s true; it’s inevitable: Change is the permanent constant. Successfully blending a family is only saying, “Yes,” to the possibilities for new life, knowing that whether it’s Thanksgiving, Christmas, or Easter--life is found in the One who never changes, the One who calls us forward, the One who knows blending our life with those we love is what life is all about.
Contact David B. Whitlock, Ph.D. at drdavid@davidbwhitlock.com or visit his website, www.davidbwhitlock.com
One of the major stressors during the holiday season involves the dynamics involved in blending a family. The holiday season comes packaged with enough tension already, what with gifts to buy, traffic to fight, and programs to attend. When you throw in the jealousies of a step grandmother, or the vengefulness of an ex-spouse, or the hurt feelings of stepchildren, or the insecurity of stepsiblings, (the variables for family strife are virtually endless) a veritable boiling cauldron of emotions threatens to spill over into the dream of the quaint family Christmas, scalding any possibility of what peace and joy might have been.
Eight years ago I experienced my first Christmas with our blended family. With each Christmas our family has drawn closer as together we’ve experienced the challenge of each holiday.
I’ve learned a few lessons that have helped me grow with my blended family during the holiday season.
I ceased chasing that perfect Christmas; it doesn’t exist; there never was one and never will be. God could have made that first Christmas a perfect one, but he didn’t. No room was left in the inn; and the holy family was homeless. Maybe God was trying to tell us something: Life is experienced in the struggle---in brokenness, in hurt, and in pain. Just as he was there in a dirty stable the first Christmas, so God is in the midst of our families’ messiness.
Releasing the pressure of finding the perfect Christmas freed us to try new things. We’ve taken past traditions and incorporated them into our family in ways that created something different. For instance, we open some presents on Christmas Eve (a tradition from my family) and some on Christmas morning (a tradition in Lori’s family), and in so doing started a new tradition.
I’ve also learned that no matter the number of children (we have four) in a blended family, each child is different, and each child is the same. Each has unique characteristics, but they all have the same basic emotional needs: love, acceptance, security, attention. In healthy family relations those needs can be met. Maybe that’s why the biblical character, King David, described God as a “father to the fatherless, a defender of widows,” a God who “places the lonely in families” (Psalm 68:5, 6).
Christmas season bristles with emotions so tense they sometimes seem to ricochet off the walls. I like the words of the Apostle Paul when he admonished his readers to “take care of those who are weak” (I Thessalonians 5:14). Often, during Christmas, those in blended families are experiencing the deep pain of broken relationships or feeling the emptiness of a loved one who is no longer there. Or maybe both.
It’s perhaps the sense of loss---the absence of a parent or child at Christmas, the grief of what once was and never will be again---that is most pronounced in blended families. But, the void felt by changed circumstances cuts across the emotional landscape of all family structures, however “family” may be defined.
My mother and father are encountering the emotions experienced with their first Christmas in a retirement facility. “I miss the smells of cooking in my own kitchen, decorating my house, and inviting friends over,” Mom confided to me the other day. And then with added insight, “One thing about it, life is about change, no matter your age or where you are.”
Or the type of family you’re in.
It’s true; it’s inevitable: Change is the permanent constant. Successfully blending a family is only saying, “Yes,” to the possibilities for new life, knowing that whether it’s Thanksgiving, Christmas, or Easter--life is found in the One who never changes, the One who calls us forward, the One who knows blending our life with those we love is what life is all about.
Contact David B. Whitlock, Ph.D. at drdavid@davidbwhitlock.com or visit his website, www.davidbwhitlock.com
Friday, December 16, 2011
All I want for Christmas is my nip and tuck
Back in 1944, while teaching music in public school, Donald Gardner asked his second grade class what they wanted for Christmas. Noticing how almost all his students answered him with a lisp because they had at least one front tooth missing, Gardner sat down and wrote the song, “All I Want for Christmas is My Two Front Teeth.”
Unfortunately, at least for many youth, it takes much more than two new front teeth to fit into the norm physically; it takes a nip here and a tuck there.
Many, if not most, adults get cosmetic surgery because they don’t want to look their age; they don’t want to look like the rest. They want to be noticed in the crowd.
What’s interesting is that the increase in teenagers getting cosmetic surgery (cosmetic surgical procedures on youths 18 and younger more than tripled from 1997- 2007, with the controversial procedures, breast augmentation and liposuction, increasing six fold) appears to be for the opposite reason adults choose plastic surgery. In a report by Camille Sweeney in the New York Times, Dr. Frederick Lukash, a cosmetic surgeon in New York City who specializes in treating adults, said, “Unlike adults who may elect cosmetic surgery for the ‘wow’ factor to stand out in a crowd, to be rejuvenated and get noticed, kids have different mantra. They do it to fit in.”
Undergoing surgery to fit in is not without risks, risks most teenagers don’t think through.”Teenagers are often oblivious to the well-documented long-term health consequences of smoking, tanning, and other risky behaviors, and are likely to pay less attention to the risks of cosmetic surgery, making informed consent difficult,” warns psychologist and women’s health expert, Dr. Diana Zuckeman.
That’s not to say all corrective surgery is wrong. On the contrary, some cosmetic procedures have worked wonders for a child’s self esteem. Michael Laudiso, now an adult, reported to Camille Sweeney that having his large ears pinned when he was ten was a life saver: “That surgery made me free.”
Neither is there anything awry or unusual with trying to improve how we look or taking measures to look younger. Jane Fonda decided to go under the knife when she walked by a mirror, caught a glimpse of herself and wondered who that face belonged to. “I thought, ‘Oh my God, it’s me,’” Fonda told TODAY’s Matt Lauer earlier this month. “I just decided I wanted to buy myself some time and look more like how I feel.” said Fonda. She had work on her chin, neck and under the eyes.
But, the real danger lies when we adults create a cultural environment where a young person thinks every tiny detail has to be picture perfect, and where we ourselves think it’s necessary to undergo countless procedures to keep getting that “wow” effect.
We forget the inner beauty that lies much deeper than our aging skin, a beauty that can grow even more attractive with age, a beauty that can’t be touched by a scalpel.
Apparently, Lauren Scruggs’ beauty is more than skin deep. She’s the 23 year-old model who walked into the propeller of a an airplane, fracturing her skull, severing her left hand, breaking her collar bone, injuring her brain, and causing extensive damage to her left eye. Her first spoken words after regaining consciousness were, “I love you.” And, when Lauren used a mirror to see her face for the first time after the accident, her response was, “That’s not that bad.”
I thought of her words as I was getting my haircut the other day. Glancing in the mirror at myself, I noticed a new wrinkle here and some sagging skin there. “Who is that guy who seems to be getting older quicker than I thought he would,” I thought. Then, with a hidden smile, I repeated Lauren’s words to myself, “That’s not that bad.”
And thanking the Lord for the gift of life itself, I said it again, “No, not that bad at all.”
Email David B. Whitlock, Ph.D. at drdavid@davidbwhitlock.com. or visit his website, davidbwhitlock.com
Unfortunately, at least for many youth, it takes much more than two new front teeth to fit into the norm physically; it takes a nip here and a tuck there.
Many, if not most, adults get cosmetic surgery because they don’t want to look their age; they don’t want to look like the rest. They want to be noticed in the crowd.
What’s interesting is that the increase in teenagers getting cosmetic surgery (cosmetic surgical procedures on youths 18 and younger more than tripled from 1997- 2007, with the controversial procedures, breast augmentation and liposuction, increasing six fold) appears to be for the opposite reason adults choose plastic surgery. In a report by Camille Sweeney in the New York Times, Dr. Frederick Lukash, a cosmetic surgeon in New York City who specializes in treating adults, said, “Unlike adults who may elect cosmetic surgery for the ‘wow’ factor to stand out in a crowd, to be rejuvenated and get noticed, kids have different mantra. They do it to fit in.”
Undergoing surgery to fit in is not without risks, risks most teenagers don’t think through.”Teenagers are often oblivious to the well-documented long-term health consequences of smoking, tanning, and other risky behaviors, and are likely to pay less attention to the risks of cosmetic surgery, making informed consent difficult,” warns psychologist and women’s health expert, Dr. Diana Zuckeman.
That’s not to say all corrective surgery is wrong. On the contrary, some cosmetic procedures have worked wonders for a child’s self esteem. Michael Laudiso, now an adult, reported to Camille Sweeney that having his large ears pinned when he was ten was a life saver: “That surgery made me free.”
Neither is there anything awry or unusual with trying to improve how we look or taking measures to look younger. Jane Fonda decided to go under the knife when she walked by a mirror, caught a glimpse of herself and wondered who that face belonged to. “I thought, ‘Oh my God, it’s me,’” Fonda told TODAY’s Matt Lauer earlier this month. “I just decided I wanted to buy myself some time and look more like how I feel.” said Fonda. She had work on her chin, neck and under the eyes.
But, the real danger lies when we adults create a cultural environment where a young person thinks every tiny detail has to be picture perfect, and where we ourselves think it’s necessary to undergo countless procedures to keep getting that “wow” effect.
We forget the inner beauty that lies much deeper than our aging skin, a beauty that can grow even more attractive with age, a beauty that can’t be touched by a scalpel.
Apparently, Lauren Scruggs’ beauty is more than skin deep. She’s the 23 year-old model who walked into the propeller of a an airplane, fracturing her skull, severing her left hand, breaking her collar bone, injuring her brain, and causing extensive damage to her left eye. Her first spoken words after regaining consciousness were, “I love you.” And, when Lauren used a mirror to see her face for the first time after the accident, her response was, “That’s not that bad.”
I thought of her words as I was getting my haircut the other day. Glancing in the mirror at myself, I noticed a new wrinkle here and some sagging skin there. “Who is that guy who seems to be getting older quicker than I thought he would,” I thought. Then, with a hidden smile, I repeated Lauren’s words to myself, “That’s not that bad.”
And thanking the Lord for the gift of life itself, I said it again, “No, not that bad at all.”
Email David B. Whitlock, Ph.D. at drdavid@davidbwhitlock.com. or visit his website, davidbwhitlock.com
Thursday, December 8, 2011
Finding Common Ground at the Manger this Christmas
“What part of Christmas do you find most stressful?” I asked my secretary the other day.
“The shopping,” she said, without hesitating.
“The shopping,” those two words just about cover it all.
The traffic---trying to find a parking place, struggling to drive from one store to the next--- and the crowds, rushing to get in line, scurrying by other shoppers in the mall---all come with the shopping. It’s an all inclusive non-bargain.
And, unless you have the patience of Job or the placidity of the Dali Lama, you’re most likely to bring your little gift bags of shopping stress and strain to your home, or work, or even---dare I say it?---your house of worship.
December---the month when Christians are supposed to be focusing on the birth of the Christ child---is not immune from the same conflict and discord that characterize the world the other eleven months of the year. December just seems to get hit hardest that way.
The angel’s words to the shepherds, announcing the birth of Jesus, seem to mock our frequently misplaced priorities: “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men” Luke 2:14).
“Yeah, right!” our cynical side snickers.
But wait! There’s still the possibility of a peaceful Christmas. We don’t have to stumble through this season, arriving on the 25th, battered, bruised, frustrated and drained. We are, after all, in charge of our choices and ultimately, our feelings.
Just as a swimmer in turbulent waters finds calmness beneath the surface, we too can find peace if we will only take a deep breath and dive deep, descending to the epicenter of Christmas, the ground zero of the whole tradition, the place where it all began: the night a baby was born in a manger.
For those who choose to celebrate a Christmas with Christ in it, this is where it begins and ends, if they are to find a peace that produces unity not division, hope not despair, light and not darkness.
That peace brings a sense of well-being and purpose not only to families upended by the world’s agenda, but also to houses of worship as well, and it has the potential to galvanize a united front of Christians standing in unity at the common ground found in the manger.
In this world where political agreements are stymied by entrenchment, where once married couples fight custody battles, where the have nots camp in protest of the haves, people yearn for solutions. Christmas can be a most opportune time for the Christian community to demonstrate a unity based on the peace found in the One they claim to follow.
Father Jonathan Morris, speaking recently on the talk show hosted by former evangelist, Reverend James Robison, urged Protestants and Catholics to find common ground. Father Morris, a frequent contributor and analyst for the Fox News Channel, and who currently serves as one of the vicars at the Basilica at St. Patrick’s Old Cathedral in New York City, issued an impassioned plea for Christians to work together. Speaking to Robison, Fr. Morris said, “Not that you believe every single theological thing that I believe…but we have so much in common, we have one person in common, that is Jesus Christ…(so) we have to work together, we have to have courage to walk together no matter what anyone says.”
Maybe a start in that direction could be made if Protestants stepped inside a Catholic Church and Catholics stood in a Protestant church and sensing the traditions of the place, found a manger scene or at least a picture or image of the Christ child.
Having done that, maybe believers could try gazing at the scene and perhaps even imagine the smell of the dirt the in that cattle stall where Jesus was born. It’s the dirt from which we all came; it’s the dust to which we all return.
But in the manger we find something beyond ourselves, something that unites us as we encounter Jesus; we discover in him the common ground that brings peace on earth and good will towards all people.
It’s in that common ground that we might just find Christmas, after all.
David B. Whitlock, Ph.D., is Pastor of Lebanon Baptist Church in Lebanon, Ky. He is also an adjunct teacher at Campbellsville University in Campbellsville, Ky. Email David at drdavid@davidbwhitlock.com or visit his website, www.davidbwhitlock.com.
“The shopping,” she said, without hesitating.
“The shopping,” those two words just about cover it all.
The traffic---trying to find a parking place, struggling to drive from one store to the next--- and the crowds, rushing to get in line, scurrying by other shoppers in the mall---all come with the shopping. It’s an all inclusive non-bargain.
And, unless you have the patience of Job or the placidity of the Dali Lama, you’re most likely to bring your little gift bags of shopping stress and strain to your home, or work, or even---dare I say it?---your house of worship.
December---the month when Christians are supposed to be focusing on the birth of the Christ child---is not immune from the same conflict and discord that characterize the world the other eleven months of the year. December just seems to get hit hardest that way.
The angel’s words to the shepherds, announcing the birth of Jesus, seem to mock our frequently misplaced priorities: “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men” Luke 2:14).
“Yeah, right!” our cynical side snickers.
But wait! There’s still the possibility of a peaceful Christmas. We don’t have to stumble through this season, arriving on the 25th, battered, bruised, frustrated and drained. We are, after all, in charge of our choices and ultimately, our feelings.
Just as a swimmer in turbulent waters finds calmness beneath the surface, we too can find peace if we will only take a deep breath and dive deep, descending to the epicenter of Christmas, the ground zero of the whole tradition, the place where it all began: the night a baby was born in a manger.
For those who choose to celebrate a Christmas with Christ in it, this is where it begins and ends, if they are to find a peace that produces unity not division, hope not despair, light and not darkness.
That peace brings a sense of well-being and purpose not only to families upended by the world’s agenda, but also to houses of worship as well, and it has the potential to galvanize a united front of Christians standing in unity at the common ground found in the manger.
In this world where political agreements are stymied by entrenchment, where once married couples fight custody battles, where the have nots camp in protest of the haves, people yearn for solutions. Christmas can be a most opportune time for the Christian community to demonstrate a unity based on the peace found in the One they claim to follow.
Father Jonathan Morris, speaking recently on the talk show hosted by former evangelist, Reverend James Robison, urged Protestants and Catholics to find common ground. Father Morris, a frequent contributor and analyst for the Fox News Channel, and who currently serves as one of the vicars at the Basilica at St. Patrick’s Old Cathedral in New York City, issued an impassioned plea for Christians to work together. Speaking to Robison, Fr. Morris said, “Not that you believe every single theological thing that I believe…but we have so much in common, we have one person in common, that is Jesus Christ…(so) we have to work together, we have to have courage to walk together no matter what anyone says.”
Maybe a start in that direction could be made if Protestants stepped inside a Catholic Church and Catholics stood in a Protestant church and sensing the traditions of the place, found a manger scene or at least a picture or image of the Christ child.
Having done that, maybe believers could try gazing at the scene and perhaps even imagine the smell of the dirt the in that cattle stall where Jesus was born. It’s the dirt from which we all came; it’s the dust to which we all return.
But in the manger we find something beyond ourselves, something that unites us as we encounter Jesus; we discover in him the common ground that brings peace on earth and good will towards all people.
It’s in that common ground that we might just find Christmas, after all.
David B. Whitlock, Ph.D., is Pastor of Lebanon Baptist Church in Lebanon, Ky. He is also an adjunct teacher at Campbellsville University in Campbellsville, Ky. Email David at drdavid@davidbwhitlock.com or visit his website, www.davidbwhitlock.com.
Autumn Garden: Christmas Light
“You’d better get what’s left of your garden in; we’re going to have a hard freeze tonight,” Glen, my gardening mentor, warned me several weeks ago. And so I carried in the tomato vines, picked the peppers, and salvaged what okra was left. In the garage, they are now ripening so fast that some are beginning to rot before we can get them eaten. My wife tolerates my boastful proclamation: “It’s November, and we still enjoy the garden,” as if this justifies the time devoted to working the ground this past summer.
Having saved what was left to be saved, I tramped through my garden late this evening. Only vestiges of life remain of what once was: Now, the garden lies fallow as winter approaches; now, it is stripped of life; now it fades into a deep sleep.
The outlines of the garden beds themselves preserve the memory of the high summer’s sun that produced an abundance of lettuce, tomatoes, peppers, onions, okra, potatoes, and corn; and over there, on that side of the garden, I crawled from row to row, weeding, harvesting, sometimes lost in wonder and awe in that maze of produce.
And now as I slowly pace each erased row, I commit the remnants to their winter’s grave: The plant labels---“Cayenne pepper,” “Bell Pepper,” “Okra,” “Better Boy Tomato,” “Celebrity Tomato,”--stand like miniature tombstones marking the places where the vegetables once grew. I accidentally step on a tomato or pepper resting on the ground, exposed, unburied, ghostly white--- their corpse-like remains reminding me of life’s inevitable cycle. And I feel somehow I’ve intruded on their hallowed ground.
And the dead vines look like slender fingers reaching up from the underworld, desperately trying to grasp one last ray of life before they are mulched into the humus from which they emerged.
Yet, something magical is happening beneath the earth’s surface as nutrients, helped along by earthworms, are preparing the soil for next year’s crop of plants.
Christians have for centuries observed this interim time of the yearly solstice as an opportunity to anticipate the not yet---the birth of Jesus the Christ---even as they grieve the present: the dominance of darkness that still mars the world. The season is called Advent--- the preparation for the celebration of Christ’s birth, bringing with it new life in the deadness of winter.
For hundreds of years, God’s garden---his people---thrived only to die again: “You brought us from Egypt as we were a tender vine;…You cleared the ground for us, and we took root and filled the land…But now…The boar from the forest devours us, and the wild animals feed on us…Turn us again to yourself, O Lord God Almighty” (Psalm 80:8, 9, 12, 19). For centuries the Hebrew people looked to a time when they would once again be “a well-watered garden” (Isaiah 58:11). And then, quite sudden-like, but by no surprise to the Eternal Eye, in the “fullness of time, God sent forth his son” (Galatians 4:4-5), a light shining “in the darkness” (John 1:5), and for those who believe the Christ-story, a new light and life in the midst of the darkness and the deadness.
Beneath the surface, the mulch had been prepared for the birth of something new and vibrant.
I know, it’s only a vegetable garden, after all, and maybe it’s not necessary to bring God into it. But as the sun sets so gently on the horizon, I stand in the middle of my garden and remember a greater light that shines the way to more wonderful things: a life grounded in the hope of a brighter tomorrow---a day filled with the abundance of all that is new, and good, and everlasting.
All because a child was born in Bethlehem some 2000 years ago.
Imagine that: All this, in a simple garden-variety birth…
…of the miraculous kind.
Contact David B. Whitlock, Ph.D., at drdavid@davidbwhitlock.com or visit his website, www.davidbwhitlock.com
Having saved what was left to be saved, I tramped through my garden late this evening. Only vestiges of life remain of what once was: Now, the garden lies fallow as winter approaches; now, it is stripped of life; now it fades into a deep sleep.
The outlines of the garden beds themselves preserve the memory of the high summer’s sun that produced an abundance of lettuce, tomatoes, peppers, onions, okra, potatoes, and corn; and over there, on that side of the garden, I crawled from row to row, weeding, harvesting, sometimes lost in wonder and awe in that maze of produce.
And now as I slowly pace each erased row, I commit the remnants to their winter’s grave: The plant labels---“Cayenne pepper,” “Bell Pepper,” “Okra,” “Better Boy Tomato,” “Celebrity Tomato,”--stand like miniature tombstones marking the places where the vegetables once grew. I accidentally step on a tomato or pepper resting on the ground, exposed, unburied, ghostly white--- their corpse-like remains reminding me of life’s inevitable cycle. And I feel somehow I’ve intruded on their hallowed ground.
And the dead vines look like slender fingers reaching up from the underworld, desperately trying to grasp one last ray of life before they are mulched into the humus from which they emerged.
Yet, something magical is happening beneath the earth’s surface as nutrients, helped along by earthworms, are preparing the soil for next year’s crop of plants.
Christians have for centuries observed this interim time of the yearly solstice as an opportunity to anticipate the not yet---the birth of Jesus the Christ---even as they grieve the present: the dominance of darkness that still mars the world. The season is called Advent--- the preparation for the celebration of Christ’s birth, bringing with it new life in the deadness of winter.
For hundreds of years, God’s garden---his people---thrived only to die again: “You brought us from Egypt as we were a tender vine;…You cleared the ground for us, and we took root and filled the land…But now…The boar from the forest devours us, and the wild animals feed on us…Turn us again to yourself, O Lord God Almighty” (Psalm 80:8, 9, 12, 19). For centuries the Hebrew people looked to a time when they would once again be “a well-watered garden” (Isaiah 58:11). And then, quite sudden-like, but by no surprise to the Eternal Eye, in the “fullness of time, God sent forth his son” (Galatians 4:4-5), a light shining “in the darkness” (John 1:5), and for those who believe the Christ-story, a new light and life in the midst of the darkness and the deadness.
Beneath the surface, the mulch had been prepared for the birth of something new and vibrant.
I know, it’s only a vegetable garden, after all, and maybe it’s not necessary to bring God into it. But as the sun sets so gently on the horizon, I stand in the middle of my garden and remember a greater light that shines the way to more wonderful things: a life grounded in the hope of a brighter tomorrow---a day filled with the abundance of all that is new, and good, and everlasting.
All because a child was born in Bethlehem some 2000 years ago.
Imagine that: All this, in a simple garden-variety birth…
…of the miraculous kind.
Contact David B. Whitlock, Ph.D., at drdavid@davidbwhitlock.com or visit his website, www.davidbwhitlock.com
Autumn Garden: Christmas Light
“You’d better get what’s left of your garden in; we’re going to have a hard freeze tonight,” Glen, my gardening mentor, warned me several weeks ago. And so I carried in the tomato vines, picked the peppers, and salvaged what okra was left. In the garage, they are now ripening so fast that some are beginning to rot before we can get them eaten. My wife tolerates my boastful proclamation: “It’s November, and we still enjoy the garden,” as if this justifies the time devoted to working the ground this past summer.
Having saved what was left to be saved, I tramped through my garden late this evening. Only vestiges of life remain of what once was: Now, the garden lies fallow as winter approaches; now, it is stripped of life; now it fades into a deep sleep.
The outlines of the garden beds themselves preserve the memory of the high summer’s sun that produced an abundance of lettuce, tomatoes, peppers, onions, okra, potatoes, and corn; and over there, on that side of the garden, I crawled from row to row, weeding, harvesting, sometimes lost in wonder and awe in that maze of produce.
And now as I slowly pace each erased row, I commit the remnants to their winter’s grave: The plant labels---“Cayenne pepper,” “Bell Pepper,” “Okra,” “Better Boy Tomato,” “Celebrity Tomato,”--stand like miniature tombstones marking the places where the vegetables once grew. I accidentally step on a tomato or pepper resting on the ground, exposed, unburied, ghostly white--- their corpse-like remains reminding me of life’s inevitable cycle. And I feel somehow I’ve intruded on their hallowed ground.
And the dead vines look like slender fingers reaching up from the underworld, desperately trying to grasp one last ray of life before they are mulched into the humus from which they emerged.
Yet, something magical is happening beneath the earth’s surface as nutrients, helped along by earthworms, are preparing the soil for next year’s crop of plants.
Christians have for centuries observed this interim time of the yearly solstice as an opportunity to anticipate the not yet---the birth of Jesus the Christ---even as they grieve the present: the dominance of darkness that still mars the world. The season is called Advent--- the preparation for the celebration of Christ’s birth, bringing with it new life in the deadness of winter.
For hundreds of years, God’s garden---his people---thrived only to die again: “You brought us from Egypt as we were a tender vine;…You cleared the ground for us, and we took root and filled the land…But now…The boar from the forest devours us, and the wild animals feed on us…Turn us again to yourself, O Lord God Almighty” (Psalm 80:8, 9, 12, 19). For centuries the Hebrew people looked to a time when they would once again be “a well-watered garden” (Isaiah 58:11). And then, quite sudden-like, but by no surprise to the Eternal Eye, in the “fullness of time, God sent forth his son” (Galatians 4:4-5), a light shining “in the darkness” (John 1:5), and for those who believe the Christ-story, a new light and life in the midst of the darkness and the deadness.
Beneath the surface, the mulch had been prepared for the birth of something new and vibrant.
I know, it’s only a vegetable garden, after all, and maybe it’s not necessary to bring God into it. But as the sun sets so gently on the horizon, I stand in the middle of my garden and remember a greater light that shines the way to more wonderful things: a life grounded in the hope of a brighter tomorrow---a day filled with the abundance of all that is new, and good, and everlasting.
All because a child was born in Bethlehem some 2000 years ago.
Imagine that: All this, in a simple garden-variety birth…
…of the miraculous kind.
Contact David B. Whitlock, Ph.D., at drdavid@davidbwhitlock.com or visit his website, www.davidbwhitlock.com
Having saved what was left to be saved, I tramped through my garden late this evening. Only vestiges of life remain of what once was: Now, the garden lies fallow as winter approaches; now, it is stripped of life; now it fades into a deep sleep.
The outlines of the garden beds themselves preserve the memory of the high summer’s sun that produced an abundance of lettuce, tomatoes, peppers, onions, okra, potatoes, and corn; and over there, on that side of the garden, I crawled from row to row, weeding, harvesting, sometimes lost in wonder and awe in that maze of produce.
And now as I slowly pace each erased row, I commit the remnants to their winter’s grave: The plant labels---“Cayenne pepper,” “Bell Pepper,” “Okra,” “Better Boy Tomato,” “Celebrity Tomato,”--stand like miniature tombstones marking the places where the vegetables once grew. I accidentally step on a tomato or pepper resting on the ground, exposed, unburied, ghostly white--- their corpse-like remains reminding me of life’s inevitable cycle. And I feel somehow I’ve intruded on their hallowed ground.
And the dead vines look like slender fingers reaching up from the underworld, desperately trying to grasp one last ray of life before they are mulched into the humus from which they emerged.
Yet, something magical is happening beneath the earth’s surface as nutrients, helped along by earthworms, are preparing the soil for next year’s crop of plants.
Christians have for centuries observed this interim time of the yearly solstice as an opportunity to anticipate the not yet---the birth of Jesus the Christ---even as they grieve the present: the dominance of darkness that still mars the world. The season is called Advent--- the preparation for the celebration of Christ’s birth, bringing with it new life in the deadness of winter.
For hundreds of years, God’s garden---his people---thrived only to die again: “You brought us from Egypt as we were a tender vine;…You cleared the ground for us, and we took root and filled the land…But now…The boar from the forest devours us, and the wild animals feed on us…Turn us again to yourself, O Lord God Almighty” (Psalm 80:8, 9, 12, 19). For centuries the Hebrew people looked to a time when they would once again be “a well-watered garden” (Isaiah 58:11). And then, quite sudden-like, but by no surprise to the Eternal Eye, in the “fullness of time, God sent forth his son” (Galatians 4:4-5), a light shining “in the darkness” (John 1:5), and for those who believe the Christ-story, a new light and life in the midst of the darkness and the deadness.
Beneath the surface, the mulch had been prepared for the birth of something new and vibrant.
I know, it’s only a vegetable garden, after all, and maybe it’s not necessary to bring God into it. But as the sun sets so gently on the horizon, I stand in the middle of my garden and remember a greater light that shines the way to more wonderful things: a life grounded in the hope of a brighter tomorrow---a day filled with the abundance of all that is new, and good, and everlasting.
All because a child was born in Bethlehem some 2000 years ago.
Imagine that: All this, in a simple garden-variety birth…
…of the miraculous kind.
Contact David B. Whitlock, Ph.D., at drdavid@davidbwhitlock.com or visit his website, www.davidbwhitlock.com
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
