tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-67391077016047116832024-03-18T23:52:11.551-05:00The Patience of a Seed...and other acts of faith. A home for reflections on the living presence of God; a faith-full longing for experience of the Holy. Please enjoy, stop by anytime to see what's new, and feel free to post comments and questions for us to share. May we find here together a bit of breath and light for the journey. Grace and Peace, ~Brian R. Dixon, Pastor & AuthorRev. Brian R. Dixonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01607888808662958193noreply@blogger.comBlogger119125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6739107701604711683.post-86380375815132769642014-10-02T12:25:00.002-05:002014-10-02T12:29:31.921-05:00The Fullness of Time<div class="MsoNormal">
Time moves away from us in broad, sweeping strokes.<br />
Taking with it, back out into the deep,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
more of
life and of mystery than we’ll ever know.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
<b><i><span style="font-variant: small-caps;">"Lord</span>,
let me know my end,</i></b><br />
<b><i>and what is the measure of my days;<o:p></o:p></i></b></div>
<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
<b><i>let me know how fleeting my life
is.<o:p></o:p></i></b></div>
<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
<b><i>You have made my days a few
handbreadths,</i></b><br />
<b><i>and my lifetime is as nothing in your sight."<o:p></o:p></i></b></div>
<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Time leaves littered behind, a shore-full of fossils,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
moments
like shells and wood set adrift</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
from
the green and living things they once were.<br />
<br /></div>
<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
<b><i>"Surely everyone stands as a mere
breath.<o:p></o:p></i></b></div>
<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
<b><i>Surely everyone goes about like a
shadow.<o:p></o:p></i></b></div>
<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
<b><i>Surely for nothing they are in
turmoil;<o:p></o:p></i></b></div>
<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
<b><i> they
heap up, and do not know who will gather."<o:p></o:p></i></b><br />
<b><i><br /></i></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But, time races also towards us,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
moving inland,
gaining ground,<br />
pulling along from some far off horizon</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
the rich
and fertile floodwaters of times and days to come.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
<b><i>"And now, O </i></b><b><i><span style="font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span></i></b><b><i>, what do I wait
for?<o:p></o:p></i></b></div>
<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
<b><i>My hope is in you."<o:p></o:p></i></b></div>
<br />
<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
Psalm 39, vv. 4 – 7</div>
Rev. Brian R. Dixonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01607888808662958193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6739107701604711683.post-4787804225948589692014-06-19T07:04:00.000-05:002014-06-19T07:04:15.894-05:00Prayer for 2014 Provincial SynodSpirit of God<br />
Make us ready to meet you:<br />
In all the places through which we travel<br />
And all the places wherein we dwell.<br />
<br />
In our companions along the way<br />
And the strangers whose feet follow different paths.<br />
<br />
In quiet thoughtfulness<br />
And the clamoring moments of the week and work ahead;<br />
<br />
Bless our ears that we may hear<br />
With understanding and recognition<br />
That you are speaking to us.<br />
<br />
Bless our lips that we may speak<br />
With wisdom and understanding<br />
That you are listening to us.<br />
<br />
Bless our eyes that we may see<br />
With wisdom and understanding<br />
That you are the one at our side.<br />
<br />
Amen.Rev. Brian R. Dixonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01607888808662958193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6739107701604711683.post-65644546679841886622013-08-02T16:51:00.001-05:002013-08-02T16:51:43.927-05:00A BenedictionTend well to the parish of which you are a part.<br />
Make way for Christ, the Living Word, to dwell within your heart.<br />
Embrace the light, the love, the Lord whose life embraces you.<br />
Dance for joy that death has died and all things are made new.<br />
<br />Rev. Brian R. Dixonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01607888808662958193noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6739107701604711683.post-57858587005798630842013-04-22T18:46:00.001-05:002013-04-22T18:48:59.708-05:00Something's Gotta Give<em>"Something's gotta give."</em> This is what they say, and it's more true than we know.<br />
<br />
<strong>An unassailable economic principle -</strong><br />
<strong>Inviolable physical law -</strong><br />
<br />
Something - always - has - to - give. Surrender, share, be spent on the taking, or the getting, or the keeping of something else. <em>Everything cannot always and only ever receive.</em> So, how does this work? What will it be? That which can't be resisted? Or, that which won't be moved? (As the old question goes)<br />
<br />
Thankfully, God is neither!<br />
<br />
<em><strong>An irresistible force</strong></em> - the love of God is both perfectly free and freeing<br />
<strong><em>Nor an immovable object</em></strong> - and it is tethered to the laughter and the tears of every living soul.<br />
<br />
So, to my thinking, even truer are the words "<em>Someone's</em> gotta give." For there to ever be any sign of peace, hope for reconciliation, mercy shown or for<strong><em>give</em></strong>ness - Someone will have to be the one to give it.<br />
<br />
<em>"From his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace."</em> ~John 1:16Rev. Brian R. Dixonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01607888808662958193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6739107701604711683.post-90723408630523953302013-04-01T22:42:00.000-05:002013-04-01T22:42:14.704-05:00Telling TimeCan you tell time? <em>Or, does it tell you</em> -<br />
Where to go, what to do, maybe even who to be?<br />
And what, then, do you answer? <em>How do you plea</em> -<br />
Before the winding and the wringing of lifeless gears and restless hands?<br />
<br />
"No," dear pilgrim. Time was made for us -<br />
<em>Though it is not of our making</em>. It belongs to everyone<br />
And it is here in sufficiency for every purpose under heaven.<br />
<br />
Can you tell me? <em>Or, let me ask</em> -<br />
How something is saved, wasted and spent<br />
That can't be borrowed; won't be lent? <em>And why try to steal</em><br />
Or fear to lose what finds us seldom grateful for the priceless gift that it is?<br />
<br />
"Why," indeed. "How," in truth. When each moment<br />
Bears within itself all the promise of the beginning of time -<br />
The end of days - and the boundless love of God who encompasses them all.Rev. Brian R. Dixonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01607888808662958193noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6739107701604711683.post-67168024850618694312013-01-24T08:18:00.000-06:002013-01-24T08:18:42.784-06:00For Care of the Living TruthThere is a grain of Truth<br />
Running deep and clear and bright<br />
Beneath the stain of the world.<br />
Running through the living greenwood<br />
Of Eden's life-giving, ever-bearing tree<br />
Towards that long-promised and looked for Vintage.<br />
<br />
And, neither curse, nor blight or beastly mark<br />
Will ever turn the Vinedresser from his tender care<br />
Or convince the lovesick Gardener<br />
Not to leave home for the harvest in hope.Rev. Brian R. Dixonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01607888808662958193noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6739107701604711683.post-78088923071398035742012-11-24T08:08:00.000-06:002012-11-24T08:10:10.116-06:00We Do Not Know<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Forgive them,” he said.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">A dying Son’s prayer to his Father.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">On behalf of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">betrayers</i>, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">accusers</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">tormentors</i>.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Grace and mercy on those who would put him to death</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">But, could not take his life.<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Peace to those who would seal him away</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">But, could not escape his love.<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“They do not know,” he said.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">And, supposing they didn’t.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I ask you, even, do we?</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">No.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Neither
the day nor the hour of the Father’s choosing.<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Do we, now, know the Scriptures or the Power of God?</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">For, if we truly knew our neighbor’s need –</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>If we knew who it
was asking us for something to drink.<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“If you knew the gift,” he said.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">If we knew how to pray.<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">And, what were made of –</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>And, what we were
made for.<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Then all of our “knowing”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Then all of our “doing”<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Would look more like the life he came to give.</span></div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>And,
more like love “that won’t let us go.”</span></i></b>Rev. Brian R. Dixonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01607888808662958193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6739107701604711683.post-64544702760297000152012-09-09T00:04:00.000-05:002012-09-09T00:04:44.484-05:00Hitting a Wall: Another KoanWhile travelling through a wilderness one day, I walked into a wall.<br />
Rising up from the ground right there in the middle of that lonely place.<br />
<br />
It would have been easy enough to walk around and leave behind.<br />
But, this wall meant something - or, at least I wanted it to -<br />
And I was determined to learn what that might be.<br />
<br />
The wall was high enough to keep me from seeing over it when I stood close.<br />
Though not so tall that I couldn't catch hold of the top with a small jump and pull myself up.<br />
It only ran for about twenty feet to the left and to the right.<br />
And, it looked exactly the same from either side.<br />
<br />
My first decision (after making up my mind to stop and stay at the wall)<br />
Would have to be which direction I thought the wall was facing.<br />
And, whether I believed it was keeping something in,<br />
Or keeping something out.Rev. Brian R. Dixonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01607888808662958193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6739107701604711683.post-27553439980966438052012-05-17T14:31:00.000-05:002012-05-17T14:31:16.570-05:00Humpty DumptyWhen the King's horses all fail us -<br />
<em>Lovely creatures though they are.</em><br />
And all of his men -<br />
<em>Mighty builders and breakers of walls -</em><br />
Each, in turn, turn away:<br />
From the Fall,<br />
From broken pieces,<br />
From finding strength alone is not enough.<br />
What more can be expected?<br />
Whose might withstands weakness?<br />
And, how could horses and men have ever done the work of a King?<br />
<br />
<em>"Some take pride in chariots, and some in horses, but our pride is in the name of the Lord our God."</em> ~Psalm 20:7Rev. Brian R. Dixonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01607888808662958193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6739107701604711683.post-77415954711415254132011-10-25T15:28:00.002-05:002011-10-25T15:34:04.109-05:00The Echo of LoveI suppose worship to be the heartbeat of faith.<br />Which, is not to say that it is the <em>heart</em> of faith.<br /><br />No, worship is not that vital organ: the pressure behind, the force within;<br />Reservoir and wellspring of our life and the living of it.<br /><br />I think that that would be God.<br /><br />And, neither is to say that worship is the heartbeat of faith<br />To say that it is the <em>lifeblood</em> of faith.<br /><br />No, worship is not that precious flow which fills and floods;<br />Current and conveyance of warmth and heat and strength.<br /><br />I think that that would be the Holy Spirit.<br /><br />Nor can worship properly be said to be the <em>body</em><br />Throughout and through which the heart and blood of faith move:<br />Raising bones to new life and light in the darkness,<br />Lifting up the wounded and the broken<br />And walking with them.<br /><br />I think that that would be Christ Jesus<br />And the Church in which He lives.<br /><br />Leaving worship to be the echo of love,<br />Re-citing, Re-sounding, Breathing again<br />The rhythm and pulse of our dancing days with God.Rev. Brian R. Dixonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01607888808662958193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6739107701604711683.post-49379828214385881592011-04-16T07:22:00.003-05:002011-04-16T22:28:41.199-05:00It's About TimeGot a minute? Thanks! I'll try to make this quick. Not sure why, but I seem to be remembering my life in smaller increments. It's not that I'm forgetting more - just remembering less. Or, at least focusing more on fewer things. Littler things. Simpler things. "Times of my life" seem to be condensing into moments in time. Pieces. Fragments. Shards sharp and clear and beautiful. Experiences that I hope never to forget, but that it is not necessary to repeat. As a matter of fact (or fact of matter, if you will), trying to repeat them would be a waste of time. Because, it's chronologically impossible to experience anything more than once. Kind of a, "You cannot step twice into the same stream," kind of thing. <em>Forgetting the worst-movie-ever with my brother and a pitcher of smoothies.</em> <em>French toast, live music and televised soccer at a Portuguese-Irish pub with my mom.</em> <em>Dad and I calling in sick and hanging out at the Montgomery County Fair.</em> <em>Riding the ferry to Ellis Island on Mother's Day with my wife and kids.</em> <em>Natural wonders. Works of art. Conversations.</em> <em>Presence. Transcendence. Coincidence (if one believes in such a thing).</em> So, what, I'm wondering, could be the relationship between these magic moments - each of these tiny transfigurations - and the steady stream of our lives (minute-by-minute-by-minute) upon which we perfect faithfulness and learn to navigate the hazards and currents of time? How is it that we are able to have and to share the experiences and expressions of such wonderful and unfathomable realities as: the life of God; the lives of a world full of people; and the worlds-within-worlds of imagination, hope and dream? <em>"We must not forget that it is not a thing that lends significance to a moment; it is the moment that lends significance to things."</em> ~Abraham Heschel, The SabbathRev. Brian R. Dixonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01607888808662958193noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6739107701604711683.post-15287832132854025632011-02-08T14:16:00.003-06:002011-02-08T14:28:58.402-06:00Learning Love<em>Written for </em><a href="http://www.victoriagazette.com/February2011/"><em>The Victoria Gazette</em></a><em>, February 2011</em><br /><br />The Hebrew Scriptures and New Testament repeatedly call us to explore the connection between what we say we believe about God and how we treat others. In the book of the prophet Micah, overzealous worship (the offering of thousands of rams and ten thousands of rivers of oil) is eclipsed by three modest requirements: doing justice, loving kindness, and walking humbly with God, each having more to do with caring for neighbors and God's care for us all. The first letter of John challenges readers with questions like: How can we love a God whom we have not seen if we cannot love brothers and sisters whom we have seen? As a new believer and, sometime after that, as a young seminary student I often felt that what I had to offer - what were truly mine to share - were primarily educated answers to questions about faith, a proficiency in religious ritual, and perhaps even some training in pastoral care. I guess what I'm confessing to you is the belief I once held that God's ability to be present and active in our lives was somehow restricted to my meager understanding of God's love and faithfulness. Eventually I ran into someone who not only showed me differently but also opened my heart to the loving Spirit who bridges this chasm between heart and mind. She was a patient in the ER at St. Luke's in Bethlehem PA. I was a pastoral intern calling myself a chaplain. When the doctor paged, feeling that this woman could use a visit, I was ready. I straightened my tie, picked up my bible, and walked into the room with a mental checklist of things I wanted to know about her. The list was meant to help me respond appropriately; with scripture, with a hymn, with prayer beads, with sacrament, with whatever might help remind her of the Lord of life, lover of her soul, source of all comfort and peace. But, nothing really seemed to "work." Finally, frustrated and a little fearful I asked if there was anything I could get her. And, the answer she gave transformed my understanding of what it means for any of us - for all of us - to love and serve the One who is Emmanuel, God with us. Her request, simply stated, "I just want someone to talk to." I pulled up a chair, put my pretense aside, and let this sister of mine know what I truly believed: that she was seen, and heard, and precious in God's sight.Rev. Brian R. Dixonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01607888808662958193noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6739107701604711683.post-69727607272566138342010-12-01T21:35:00.015-06:002010-12-01T22:05:31.681-06:00inTending commUnityYou spoke, Lord God, and<em> it was so</em>.<br />You saw that what was - was good!<br /><br />There must have been something about Light that pleased You.<br />Something to the ordering of Sun, Moon and Stars<br />making You smile.<br /><br />Something in the Dance of Life across the sky,<br />through the waters and across the ground<br />returning your blessing to You.<br /><br />What then, Lord, did you see and say, "<em>It is not good</em>."?<br /><strong><em>That the man should be alone.</em><br /></strong>How is it, Holy Spirit, Voice and Vision,<br />that two are better than one?<br /><em><strong>For if they fall, one will lift up the other.</strong></em><br /><br />Why, Beloved Son of our Father in heaven,<br />are the "greatest" commandments hardly breakable<br /><em>apart</em> from the living presence of community (human and divine)?<br /><br />Wherever two or more are together in your name--<br />Where the needs of the very least<br />reveal the presence of the Most High--<br /><br />The Love that You are and the Life that You give,<br />Leave little room for faith that <em>is not</em> a gathering<br />and a sharing of heart and soul and strength.Rev. Brian R. Dixonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01607888808662958193noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6739107701604711683.post-74645005399248789472010-11-25T17:56:00.003-06:002010-11-25T18:10:34.862-06:00Paul's Secret(a reading based on Hab 3:17, 18; Phil 4:12 & Thess 5:18)<br /><br />One: The year now drawing to a close has been a good year!<br /><strong>All: To be honest, it's been a tough year.</strong><br />One: Yes, there have been many struggles and some setbacks.<br /><strong>All: But, there were also many triumphs and victories won!</strong><br />One: We have known God's loving favor and shared the Peace of Christ.<br /><strong>All: We have shaken our fist and cried, "How long, O Lord, will you hide your face?"</strong><br />One: And, not once--<br /><strong>All: No, not ever--have we been left or forsaken.</strong><br />One: And, not once--<br /><strong>All: No, not ever--has God's grace not been enough.</strong><br />One: So let us rejoice in the Lord; let us exult in the God of our salvation!<br /><strong>All: For God, the Lord, is our strength!</strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><em>prepared for the 2010 Community Thanksgiving Celebration hosted by St. Victoria Catholic Church</em>Rev. Brian R. Dixonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01607888808662958193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6739107701604711683.post-9506927670883156952010-10-01T10:16:00.003-05:002010-10-01T10:53:24.894-05:00Making a FortuneEveryone loved Mei-Xing, with the possible exception of Mei-Xing. This is not to say she disliked herself; only that she failed to see herself in the light that others did. She could not recognize the Mei-Xing who shone brightly through the veil of self-criticism and unnecessary apologies. Both of them - the Mei everyone loved and the one that Mei did not - kept a small rented room in a neighborhood where stuttering neon signs were never fixed and the family circle was never broken.<br /><br />To her co-workers at the fortune cookie factory, young Mei was kind and respectful. She was also the swiftest worker they had ever seen. Many of the older women's hands were callused from repeated burns as they peeled thin cookies from a hot press. Mei's hands were flawless. A great number of cookies had to be destroyed if the dough hardened before being properly folded, or because they had been poorly folded and misshapen. Each of Mei's cookies was an exact replica of the masterpiece before it.<br /><br />This is probably why no one noticed whenever Mei pocketed a fortune for herself and sent an otherwise perfect cookie down the line. Thousands of these tiny messages slipped through her fingers every day. Most of them said pretty much the same thing. She would sometimes laugh quietly to herself to imagine Confucius and Socrates finishing a meal together, breaking open a cookie, and the great Master Kong bragging, "I wrote that!" But, every once-in-a-while a bright turn of phrase or a glimmer of truth would catch Mei's eye and these would be the words alone by which she wanted to live.<br /><br />Back in her room, Mei had a small vanity at which she would sit and tape her borrowed fortunes to the mirror. She could no longer see a reflection, only the lines and sayings in which she hoped to find meaning; to catch a glimpse of the life of the world to come. Something at hand. Something within. Mei did not know what this hidden life was, but she was becoming more sure of all it was not.<br /><br /><div align="center">* * * * *</div><br />"So, you see, it's a win-win."<br /><br />Howard smiled as the gentleman closed his laptop and leaned back. He had been on the other side of the table often enough to recognize that it had been a dazzling presentation. Confident but not cavalier; well-informed but not a know-it-all; this young buck earned Howard's respect for style, but something was missing. And, if Howard had learned anything in the thirty years it took him to reestablish his father's business, it was that there is truth to the old saying, "Not all that glitters is gold."<br /><br />"How about the 300 positions that will be eliminated," Howard asked. "How would you explain to those workers that the loss of their jobs is a 'win'?"<br /><br />Something tightened at the corners of the young suit's eyes. He sat up straight and leaned in a little toward Howard. "With all due respect, I'd call losing a dead-end job at a rundown factory in a long-forgotten industry a<em> division championship</em>! It'll give folks a fresh start. And, we're offering a generous severance --"<br /><br />"By eliminating pension and benefits," interrupted Howard.<br /><br />"They'll have first crack at applying --"<br /><br />"-- for their old jobs?"<br /><br />"No, for the twenty new positions we're creating."<br /><br />"For which none of them is qualified?"<br /><br />The young gun took a deep breath before answering. "There's paid training. We covered that."<br /><br />"I know we did, son." Howard nodded slowly, "I know we did."<br /><br />They sat in silence for several moments while the waitress brought the check. "Xie xie," Howard offered her, and waved off his would-be partner, "No. No, I'll get this." As he handed over a credit card, Howard pushed a small plate forward with two fortune cookies on it. "Go ahead. Maybe there'll be some guidance for us in one of these."<br /><br />The young Turk declined to read his fortune out loud; laughing it off as stupid and superstitious. Howard suspected he may have felt convicted by what it actually said. This was a suspicion confirmed by what Howard had discovered in his own cookie. Stopping in the men's room on the way out, Howard crumbled the pieces in his fist and dropped them into the trash. He held out his hand, looking it over carefully. There had been no fortune in his cookie. As he washed at the sink, Howard searched the reflection in the mirror. Instead of a line or two of timeless wisdom to go on, he had been left with only the lines of his face to read for meaning; to catch a glimpse of the life of the world to come. Something at hand. Something within. Howard knew exactly what he was trying to avoid having to face, but he suddenly became unsure of what it might find as it turned its face to him.Rev. Brian R. Dixonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01607888808662958193noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6739107701604711683.post-60413014650970998242010-09-03T13:22:00.004-05:002010-09-03T13:32:58.659-05:00Right on the MoneyThere is a<em> New World Order</em><br />Of Commodity and Consumption,<br />An Economy of Want and industrial-strength Pride.<br /><br /><div align="right"><em>And, there are lilies to consider.</em></div><br />The blueprint goes all the way back to the Garden,<br />Tightly coiled around a Tree.<br /><br /><div align="right"><em>But, no one can serve two masters,</em></div><div align="right"><em>Even if one is yourself.</em></div><br />The Tower of Babel has been foreclosed on!<br />It's a great steal -- or deal,<br />Depending on your<em> Legal Tender</em>.<br /><br /><div align="right"><em>Why do we bury our hearts</em></div><div align="right"><em>And wear our treasure on our sleeves?</em></div><em></em><br /><em>Debts Public and Private</em><br />Forgiven us, as we --<br />Well, <em>We Trust in God</em><br />To sort that out.<br /><br /><div align="right"><em>Another camel threads a needle.</em></div><div align="right"><em>A rich young ruler turns away.</em></div><br />An unseeing eye<br /><em>Approves our Undertaking</em><br /><br /><div align="right"><em>And a poor penniless widow</em></div><div align="right"><em>Bears the image and inscription</em></div><div align="right"><em>Of unseen things above.</em></div>Rev. Brian R. Dixonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01607888808662958193noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6739107701604711683.post-74311553497187693292010-08-01T08:28:00.003-05:002010-08-01T08:36:48.175-05:00A Child, A Shovel & the DeepThere's a little boy at the beach. He's sprawled out on knees and elbows with a plastic shovel in one hand and a little red bucket floating out to sea behind him. The ocean shouts a warning, whispers his name, but he doesn't listen. The sun looks down from on high, burns his shoulders, throws a dark shadow out in front of him, but he's busy.<br /><br />Digging in the sand. Digging down. Digging deep.<br /><br />To where the water comes seeping in and slipping through all the spaces in-between:<br /><em>Unnumbered grains of sand</em><br /><em>The surf and the shore</em><br /><em>His tiny fingers</em><br /><br />On the rim of this excavation, the boy begins to fashion for himself a world. A kingdom of towers and arches and walls cleverly buttressed with driftwood and shells and glass from the sea. But, with no real citizens. Silent streets. Empty city squares. All flooded. Unmade and dissolved even as they are built.<br /><br />Any moment now. One day soon. The tide will come in - so far and so fast - catching the little boy by surprise. Perhaps a small breaker or two will try to get his attention. Maybe it will be a wave of some height and significance, cresting well over his head. However it happens, he will turn and see and hear and taste and know all-at-once <em>the great difference</em> and <em>the great oneness</em> of the water in his little dugout basin and the fathomless depth of sea and sky.<br /><br />And, then the story will begin.<br /><br />I think the one may be us.<br />I think the second may be our religion.<br />And, I think that the third just might be God.Rev. Brian R. Dixonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01607888808662958193noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6739107701604711683.post-39602132277720929512010-07-05T09:09:00.002-05:002010-07-05T09:12:23.263-05:00Sometimes, When I PraySometimes, when I pray,<br />I bow my head, cup my hands,<br />And hold them out in front of me as though I were:<br /><br />Raising Living Water to my lips<br />Waiting to receive the Bread of Life<br />Offering up my heart, my soul, my strength<br />Sheltering a small spark of the Light of the World<br />Setting free a cloud-white dove to find us a token of Peace<br /><br />Sometimes, when I pray.Rev. Brian R. Dixonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01607888808662958193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6739107701604711683.post-25265084014281311842010-06-23T09:30:00.004-05:002010-07-05T13:30:25.205-05:00For Us and Of UsWhen we were not a people<br /><strong>Love made us one.</strong><br />When we were without help or hope in the world<br /><strong>Love made us one.</strong><br />When there was no place we could call "home"<br /><strong>Love made us one.</strong><br /><br /><strong>A people of Love</strong><br /><strong>And, for others</strong><br /><br /><strong>Help and hope for the life of the world</strong><br /><br /><strong>Where Love's weary and burdened children</strong><br /><strong>Come to a place of rest.</strong><br /><br />For us and of us<br /><strong>The Beloved Son is building His Church.</strong><br />For us and of us<br /><strong>The Spirit of Love is raising the Temple.</strong><br />For us and of us<br /><strong>Unending Love has made a home.</strong><br /><br />Amen.Rev. Brian R. Dixonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01607888808662958193noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6739107701604711683.post-83281996202872432022010-06-06T16:58:00.003-05:002010-06-08T08:15:24.960-05:00The Feeling of FallingLike velocity with no direction,<br />Direction without aim.<br /><br /><em>adrift and astray</em><br /><em>wondering and wandering</em><br /><br />Waiting for a question to the answer?<br /><br /><em>falling fast</em><br /><em>falling free</em><br /><br />Through a thousand passing glances,<br />Unknown and unknowing,<br />Blind and unseen.<br /><br /><em>wishing to fly</em><br /><em>wanting to land safely</em><br /><br />On holy ground<br />In the arms of Love.<br /><br />~for Lily May / for us allRev. Brian R. Dixonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01607888808662958193noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6739107701604711683.post-36173787192694402802010-05-01T09:02:00.002-05:002010-05-01T09:08:39.141-05:00Living the DreamI suppose to be <em>"living the dream"</em><br />One has to be awake.<br />No longer asleep.<br /><em>Not</em> dreaming.<br /><br />Because - you know -<br />You're <em>living</em> the dream.<br /><br />Right?<br /><br />And, it's all good.<br />It doesn't get any better than this.<br />Tonight's going to be a good, good night.<br /><br />But, I wonder...<br /><br />If we're living the dream -<br />Who's living <em>the life</em>?<br />Who's <em>dreaming</em> the life?<br />Who's dreaming the dream?Rev. Brian R. Dixonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01607888808662958193noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6739107701604711683.post-23973000495497516052010-03-29T11:04:00.003-05:002010-03-29T21:05:43.765-05:00Hitting the NotesI wish I were a musician<br />Who could speak with Authority<br />To the difference between<br />Hitting the notes<br />And, singing the song.<br /><br />Because, I think there is one<br /><em>A difference –</em><br />Between the flawless performance<br />Of what’s on the page<br />And, a faithful conversation<br />With the Composer –<br />Mystic, sweet communion<br />With the heart and soul<br />Of the Music.<br /><br />If I were<br /><em>A musician –</em><br />If I could<br /><em>Speak with Authority –</em><br />And, should we find together<br />The difference between:<br /><em>A note and a sound<br />Recital and remembrance<br />Sheet music and joyful noise …<br /></em><br />Would we speak any longer<br />Of Love and Law<br />Justice and Mercy<br />The Word and Will of God<br />As though these were not all the same thing?<br /><br /><em>“It don’t mean a thing (if it ain’t got that swing).”</em> ~Duke EllingtonRev. Brian R. Dixonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01607888808662958193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6739107701604711683.post-19013492109403479512010-03-13T18:29:00.006-06:002010-03-13T19:02:04.536-06:00"What Is Truth?"I'm not sure I'm convinced<br />There was an actual Good Samaritan -<br />But, I do know that I'm convicted by this good man's example.<br /><br />And, I'm not holding my breath<br />For archaeological proof of the Prodigal Son's big party -<br />But I have felt his father's embrace.<br /><br />Perhaps the Truth of a Story<br />Is not its literal correspondence to fact -<br />But that it can be recognized by the eyes of our heart<br />Or called to the remembrance of our soul?<br /><br /><em>"Fairy tales are more than true: not because they tell us that dragons exist, but because they tell us that dragons can be beaten."</em> ~G.K. ChestertonRev. Brian R. Dixonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01607888808662958193noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6739107701604711683.post-33151270089438052352010-03-07T06:03:00.003-06:002010-03-07T06:15:43.838-06:00FW:I don't normally do this, but just had to share!<br />~Brian<br /><br />-----Original Message-----<br />From: Brian Dixon <a href="mailto:dixonflock@msn.com">dixonflock@msn.com</a><br />To: Ears to Hear<br />Sent: Sun, Mar 07, 2010 6:12 a.m.<br />Subject: FW:<br /><br />I’m forwarding this / To tell you how angry I am<br />With what “they” are doing to <em>my</em> church.<br /><br /><em>“If you love Jesus”<br /></em>You won’t delete this.<br />You don’t lose it [to find it]<br />Or, lay it down [to take it up again]<br /><br />How <em>could</em> you? Why <em>would</em> you?<br /><br />No, you’ll be first<br />To share <em>my</em> [good] news<br />You’ll be the greatest<br />Servant of all [interested parties]<br /><br />Who are dying to know <em>“what’s going on?”</em><br /><br />The [t]ruth is –<br />I’ll come right to the point –<br />This is an internet first [stone] –<br />No beating around the [burning] bush –<br /><br /><em>i’m scared<br /></em><br />To death,<br />Of life,<br />Love<br /><br />And learning<br />That I’m no better<br />Than the lost, the last & the least<br /><br />Maybe even more in need<br />Of the Grace, Mercy & Peace<br />I’ve been unwilling, ill-prepared and disinclined<br />To either give or receive in the blessed name of Jesus.<br /><br />You know…<br />Delete / Forward / Reply All<br />Aren’t our only choices.<br /><br />There’s also Save<br />Which, is what Jesus does.<br />Pass it on.Rev. Brian R. Dixonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01607888808662958193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6739107701604711683.post-64720824157883314002010-02-22T14:30:00.006-06:002010-02-22T14:38:14.365-06:00A Tree in the Forest<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5-kg9peL_oTPoWMR78XUdSXfLSsnyZgwdjzgHw8qG8CYQIkKhLfRhQgT545Vkfx8oPwX_te-MNdslADn2ZPmRMt_jAsiyFZlbKqm0kV0rAhQLyKHc676VB2CR1x1rBjihsBiWNh7HjdZG/s1600-h/CanPhone.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441169265876737986" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 176px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5-kg9peL_oTPoWMR78XUdSXfLSsnyZgwdjzgHw8qG8CYQIkKhLfRhQgT545Vkfx8oPwX_te-MNdslADn2ZPmRMt_jAsiyFZlbKqm0kV0rAhQLyKHc676VB2CR1x1rBjihsBiWNh7HjdZG/s200/CanPhone.jpg" border="0" /></a> There’s a prayer <div><div><div><div>‘Neath ev’ry prayer<br />One question</div><div>Asked many ways:<br /><em>“Can you hear me?”</em><br /><br />And there’s one answer<br />Ev’ry answer really means:<br /><em>“Yes.”</em></div></div></div></div>Rev. Brian R. Dixonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01607888808662958193noreply@blogger.com1