Fire and Water

About five years ago, I was strolling along, with my son, on a beach near St. Andrews, Scotland. 

We had been on that sea strand for a little while when Micah stopped, fixed his gaze in the forward direction, and asked me, "Don't you recognize it?" In the distance ahead. . . I beheld the town of St. Andrews. It seemed to be up on a bluff. I was puzzled. I had never been to this place before today. What was I supposed to recognize here? "Chariots of Fire, the movie" he said. . . this was the beach where British Olympic runners, Eric Liddell and Harold Abrahams, were training for the 1924 Olympics. 

Recently recalling this experience, I was wondering about the chariots. I remember there was a biblical reference, so I did a little digging in my Bible and found this passage, from the second book of Kings: "As they were going along and talking, behold, there appeared a chariot of fire and horses of fire which separated Elijah from Elisha, and Elijah went up by a whirlwind to heaven." As biblical history continued to roll through the ages, The Lord sent Elijah back to this world, a second time, to fulfill an important prophetic role. His return is previewed in the prophecy of Malachi, last words of the Old testament: "Behold, I am going to send you Elijah the prophet before the coming of the great and terrible day of the Lord. He will restore the hearts of the fathers to their children and the hearts of the children to their fathers". . . The Lord God, Creator of the universe, is sovereign. He doesn't do things because they are right. It's the other way around. They are "right" because He does them. But in some ways, it's a matter of timing, and symbols. In the case of Elijah's apparent reincarnation as John the Baptist, the Lord shifted the prophet's symbolic element from fire to water. . . which is to say, from fiery judgement to water baptism. This represents the shift from Old Testament Law to New Testament Grace. When Harold and Eric were running on that St. Andrews beach in 1924, ocean water was in the background. But in the foreground of their hearts and minds, they were fired up to represent Britain in the Paris Olympics in 1924. As it all turned out, they were victors. They were fired up enough to perform as gold medalists. Representing Great Britain with skill, endurance and speed, they rode their Chariot of Fire to victory, so to speak. In so doing they were inspired by the prophetic vision of William Blake, who, in 1804, linked Britain's aspiration to become, as it were, a new Jerusalem, "in England's green and pleasant land." I was privileged, in 2021, to be guided by my son, to that St. Andrews beach strand where Harold and Eric had run, 102 years ago. It was a providential moment. Now, at age 74, I am beginning to anticipate that chariot that will, at the Lord's appropriate time, transport me to the Lord's eternal shore, where I will discover what the apostle John witnessed when he arrived there. 

Songs of Rowland

Train Times Train

"People get ready. There's a train a-comin' . . . picking up passengers, coast to coast. You don't need no ticket; you just get on board." The train was bound for glory. Meanwhile, back at the Minnesota branch, and at the Cafe Wha and whatnot. . .Bro' Bob was ridin' on a slow train, 'round the bend. His tracks would, by 'n by, connect to the glory train. All along his watchtower, he kept hearing Mavis' voice, a still, small voice, from time to time, every now and then. . . coming 'round the bend . . .now this bend, now that bend. 

She was a Covenant woman, well-versed in the New Covenant; she was here; she was there; she was everywhere, all around the USA, like some kind of precious angel, she'd just be there, out of the blue, under the sun, just to speak into his life, speaking words of wisdom, revealing, bit by bit, the eternal truth to Bro' Bob. Then one day, Bob hopped on the glory train. He decided to pick up his cross and bear it. 

King of Soul

The Emperor has no Compassion

In a recent press conference, saith trump, re Maduro: "He gets up there and tries to imitate my dance a little bit. I'm also meeting with the oil companies. Let's go. You know what that's about, lots of oil to drill". . . "I'm the only one who took a cognitive test. . ."

"So you're all brilliant people; you're in this business longer than me; that makes me smarter than you. Look where I am. right? But l wish you could explain to me what's going on with the mind of the public". . . "I'm the only president that took cognitives. Every president should be forced to take cognitive exams. . . like we had the worst press, did the worst job; we had to run against these people. I won't say cancel the election because then the fake news say he wants the election cancelled. He's a dictator; they always call me a dictator. Nobody's worse than Obama." Re: Immigrants: "Where do they find these people? These people are a mess. I know it's not nice to say that. They are the worst looking people I've ever seen; they have hats that are all frayed. They're all paid; they don't even know what they're talking about." On the other hand, we Americans have a long history of immigrants. . .

As for me, this writer, and my house. . . no matter what a blithering president says or does to drain the compassion and the decency out of Americans, We the People, endowed by our Creator with life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. . . we ought to hold high the torch of liberty that welcomed our forefathers to this continent in ages past. We gotta see the  Glass half-Full

Old Folks Talk

Come all ye fair and tender old folks; take warning how you spend your time. Life is like the leaves in springtime. First life appears; then later it's gone. Oh but, "is there balm in Gilead?" you may ask; What's on the other side of this river of life? Quoth the raven, "nevermore" and furthermore, wise guy, what makes you so special, that you think you're exempt from this fate. . . this. . .cycle of life and death, and this ancient question. . . like, what's on the other side? Well here's the deal. Nobody knows; nobody knows, for sure, how the story ends, y'all. But we do know what the ole book says: "four score and ten" that's about it, and then that's all you need to know. "Oh yeah?" said the ole fellow. "Well I'm going for eighty or ninety" . . . as a newspaper blew through the grass and landed on his old brown shoe. "Good luck with that," came the repost. "It's not about luck, y'all; it's about faith. You gotta believe what Jesus said. He went through the whole damned thing and then lived to tell about it." "You believe that?" "Like I said, you gotta believe it, You gotta have faith." "Ah, whatever; that's an old wives's tale." "You can say whatever you want; that doesn't change anything. Jesus said be ready; for you know not the hour in which I come for you. Believe in His power; that's about all you have to do." "Whateva. Good luck with that." "It's not about luck, bro; it's about faith. Just believe that Jesus survived death itself, and that he has granted that power to you." When the smoky uncertainty of this life wafts up into thin air, what choice do you have? 

The holidays are over. You still got the rest of your life to deal with. I'm serious, y'all, just believe in His power over death; that's the deal; its as simple as that. And for safety's sake, you better not be naughty; but be nice. Smoke

Railroad Song Still on Tracks.

Gordon sang the story back in the day. . . "So they looked to the future, and what did they see? They saw an iron road running from the sea to the sea." His anthem filled in the gaps of railroad travel, Canadian style, but the story was the same on the southern side of that continental network. American restlessness sparked a 19th-century impulse to "go west, young man." Yankee ingenuity and gilded wealth launched American wanderlust onto a westbound track. Vanderbilt, Rockefeller and all their hired help laid down the tracks from Boston to Baltimore, Schenectady, Chicago, New Orleans, San Francisco and the the gold in them-there California streams. The US Army Corps of Engineering working out the mechanics and logistics along the way, onward, westward to Promontory Point, Utah, where the golden spike was driven into history and the gilded age glided into antiquity. A network of classic American folklore, story and song laid the groundwork for a treasure trove of railroad literature and song, from Mark Twain to Woody Guthrie, Casey Jones . . . Bill Anderson wrote the classic railroad ballad that sparked my generation's wanderlust: "500 miles". My memory hangs on Peter, Paul and Mary. But there were so many recordings of that song. . .Chet Atkins, Glen Campbell, Kingston Trio, probably 500 or more. Somewhere back in the tracks, Woody Guthrie had hopped on the line; his son Arlo made Steve Goodman's song, "Ridin' on the City of New Orleans" a classic. Dylan hammered his railed legacy into the eternal realm with his Slow Train Coming album, connecting the earthly track to the eternal, the divine track that lead to a heavenly destination that had been established 2000 years ago by Jesus, long before any man even thought about a railroad or an American legacy.

Back there in the caboose of technology, history and music, an  underground railroad rides again, and can be heard blowing smoke, song and trumpet into the eternal realm. King of Soul

The Thorn Bush Parable Update

Once upon an historical time, in an era long, long ago, in a land far, far away. . . our biblical correspondent, Judges Nine (number nion, number nion. . .) reported that, for whatever reason we know not, the trees of the field had said to the thorn bush, "You come and reign over us." Our correspondent Biblio reports, from Mount Gerizim: Judges 9:15: "And the thorny bush said to the trees, 'If, in good faith you are anointing me king over you then come and take refuge in my shade, but if not, let fire come out of the thorny bush and devour the cedars of Lebanon" ______________ Meanwhile, back at the tranche of history. . . Moses' great great great grand-cousin in the 21st century - Journal Izma, reports on the the bull moose party, that archaic GOP, (said to be) the party-of-Lincoln. . . you know - that slow-moving elephantine party - what used to be the Republican party. . . anyway. . . Journalizma continued his reporting, and his crusade to bring to justice the proud buoys and the three-perverters and the oathbleepers. . . (you remember) those insurrectionists on Capitol hill who mounted the janus-sixsix rebellion, (he said/she said blahblah). . . "If you have acted in good faith and integrity with US the People, then go ahead and go whacko with your marlogo hero." " But if not, let Our Rule of Law/Our Constitution fall heavily , because, back in the day, the days of long ago and far away, something like the thorn bush had said to the trees, "stand back and stand by" and 'If you are swearing me in as your main guy, then come and get hooked up to my artful Deal, but if not…

. . . let fire blaze down against those reps who are counting out the votes of US the people, and let fire come out from the leaders of the donkeys and from the old-school elephants, to strike Trumpimelech with the hammer of Justice. But Jotham and Gotham and Tom, Dick and Harry and Jezebel ran away in fear of Trumpimelech, Abimelech's descendant., because, as Simon had said, the words of the prophets are written on the subway walls, or Capitol halls, or something like that.  Stay tuned for news at the 11th hour . . . Glass half-Full

Pale Shade

We skip a light randango, turn carwheels across the world. We been feeling kinda badly… but the crowds call out for more. The nation's drumming harder, and Constitution's blowing away, when I noticed another blink from our patriots along the way. And now its getting later, as the maga tells his tale, and the climate space at first . . . just blows a whiter spade of heil. They said there is no reason, and the truth's not plain to see, as we wandered through our online shards. . . and would not let them be. . . the run of sixteen-year-old vestal virgins who were leaving maralago coast.

And although our eyes are open, they might as well be closed. And now it is much later, as the offender reads his mail, that Uncle Sam's face. . . at first just ghostly, turns a darker shade of pale. Glass Chimera