iHOPE

The 167 for April 23; Table Talk

Where is God When it Hurts?

Why Do Bad Things Happen to Good People?

Why Does God Allow Suffering? 

These are all the questions that people ask when we wrestle with Job. It may be the oldest Book in the Bible. It certainly raises some of the oldest questions.

Jordan's sermon this morning addressed some of these questions. Instead of trying to explain the unexplainable (Job never did find out why all those terrible things happened), suffering is best acknowledged and shared. Job's friends were at their best when they simply were present with Job in his misery. Once they decided they needed to make sense of that misery, they only compounded the suffering. 

Brene Brown has some hints on how to be helpful (and not!) when someone is hurting. It is brief, powerful and important. It seems appropriate for a day like today.

 

Who were the people who were helpful to you when you were suffering? 

Who were not?

What was the difference?

What would 'empathy' look like for someone you know who is suffering now?

The 167 for Easter: Music & More

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Only one word … “Alleluia” by Thompson

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Be Ye Glad” by Glad

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The following music was in last week’s 167, but it also speaks of resurrection. Someday this should be the prelude to an Easter service. There is a long journey through holy week that represents an eternal process, but finally, He Is Risen is the ‘text’ that culminates this grand piece. “The Pines of Rome – The Appian Way” (4^th movement) by Respighi -

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“What Can I Believe?” by Ted Loder

O God, I am so fragile:

My dreams get broken,

My relationships get broken,

My heart gets broken,

My body gets broken.

What can I believe,

Except that you will not despise a broken heart,

That old and broken people shall yet dream new dreams,

And that the lame shall leap for joy,

            The blind see,

                        The deaf hear.

What can I believe,

Except what Jesus taught:

That only what is first broken, like bread, can be shared

That only what is broken is open to your entry;

That old wineskins must be ripped open and replaced

            If the wine of new life is to expand.

So, I believe, Lord; Help my unbelief

That I may have courage to keep trying when I am tired,

And to keep wanting passionately when I am found wanting.

God, I am so frantic:

Somehow I have lost my gentleness in a flood of ambition,

Lost my sense of wonder in a maze of videos and computers,

Lost my integrity in a shuffle of commercial disguises,

Lost my gratitude in a swarm of criticisms and complaints,

Lost my innocence in a sea of betrayals and compromises.

What can I believe,

Except the touch of your mercy will ease the anguish of my memory;

That the tug of your spirit

will empower me to help carry now the burdens

I have loaded on the lives of others;

That the example of Jesus

            Will inspire me to find again my humanity

So, I believe, Lord; Help my unbelief

That I may have courage

            To cut free from what I have been

And gamble on what I can be,

            And on what you might laughingly do

                                    With trembling me

                                                For your incredible world.

 

 

The 167 for April 2, 2017: Music & More

Where do you hear God?

 

 

What sounds did God create that speak to you? 

 

 

 

 

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What do you see, what does your heart know when you close your busy eyes and listen?

“O Magnum Mysterium” - Morten Lauridsen

 

When should we speak? When should we keep silent? What will be understood by our sound, our silence?

“Stained Glass” by David R. Gillingham -

 

 

Music can be a time machine, an effortless traveler.

Villa Lobos – “Bachianas Brasileiras 5” -

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

From the Large Jug, Drink

From the large jug, drink the wine of Unity,

So that from your heart you can wash away the futility of life's grief.

But like this large jug, still keep the heart expansive.

Why would you want to keep the heart captive, like an unopened bottle

  of wine?

With your mouth full of wine, you are selfless

And will never boast of your own abilities again.

Be like the humble stone at your feet rather than striving to be like a

Sublime cloud: the more you mix colors of deceit, the more colorless

   your ragged wet coat will get.

Connect the heart to the wine, so that it has body,

Then cut off the neck of hypocrisy and piety of this new man.

Be like Hafiz: Get up and make an effort. Don't lie around like a bum.

He who throws himself at the Beloved's feet is like a workhorse and will

    be rewarded with boundless pastures and eternal rest.

From: Drunk on the Wine of the Beloved 

Translated by Thomas Rain Crowe

The cup no one wants: