Athanasius

I'm doing a little light reading--reading about Arianism. Go figure. Regardless, I've stumbled on a description of a man that is very admirable. If more people could be like this, I think the world would be a better place:

"But the faith of Nicaea, though silenced, was not dead. Athanasius played a leading role: one clear head is enough. He was a whole Church by himself, as certain generals are worth an army. The people recognized him as 'a good Christian and a true bishop.' His mind was clear and could clear other minds. His character was like steel. He was impervious to threats, subtleties, tricks or compromise. He drew fresh strength from every obstacle. He never yielded. In the teeth of the seeming success of the powers and of seemingly unanimous false decisions, in the teeth of the seeming 'dialectic of history' he stood up to defend 'pure quality', the truth. By his intelligent loyalty to the past he shaped the future. His voice was clear and steady and never dismayed, though he was condemned again and again in psuedo-councils."

A couple of phrases from this paragraph appeal to me. "By his intelligent loyalty to the past he shaped the future." This resonates with a passage in Chesterton that I like immensely, and have quoted here before: "Tradition means giving votes to the most obscure of all classes, our ancestors. It is the democracy of the dead. Tradition refuses to submit to the small and arrogant oligarchy of those who merely happen to be walking about." This has direct implications to the book I'm working on, where traditional viewpoints about a particular area of life have been completed turned on their head. I desire, in part, to point out, in intelligent ways, how the past can inform our way of viewing a certain part of modern life today, and to hopefully make a case to defend "'pure quality', the truth," as understood by the church for two millennia, at least one particular area.

I think it's a good thing to have an intelligent loyalty to the past. And all Christians owe a debt of gratitude to Athanasius for defending the faith. It's clear he was a 'good Christian and a true bishop.'

OK. Back to reading.

...and I've come to modify this.

This is the author's conclusion about Athanasius:

"The feat of Athanasius is astounding. Clear-headed, intuitive, and indomitable, he looms across the distance of history like another Abrahan, the man in whom the future resided, and who stood alone."

I think we'll all need to go shake his hand and say thank you when we meet him on the distant shore.

You know, I'm just not sure how helpful dating really is for finding your future spouse. I mean it--I don't know if it's very helpful at all. I just got home from a date with an attractive woman, but it's clear it would be a mistake for me to pursue a relationship with her, though there are parts of me that would love to do so. I've got a second woman I'm thinking about, but I'm suspecting the same thing will be the case with her. It would be very easy to have a relationship with each--we could get along fine, I'm sure, and we could have a good time, but that's where things would stop.

Part of me is beginning to believe that I shouldn't even worry about "dating" per se, and completely trust God to reveal to me who my wife will be. If he can make the earth keep revolving day after day, He can certainly reveal my wife to me in His good time.

For I know the plans I have for you...

Today was an important day for me. Not because of any particular event that took place in my life, but rather because there was a creeping awareness that came over me, an awareness as to the direction my life is supposed to take. I have struggled greatly with the question as to why I'm still single, when I am so anxious to be married. As I contemplated this today, walking on Calvin College's campus, it dawned on me that I was still single for a very good reason: I am of more use to the Kingdom of God as a single man than I am as a married one. I think this is especially true because of the fact that the deepest desire of my heart is to be married. There is a keen, underlying awareness of being alone that weaves its way constantly through my thinking and my life. I think it is that very desire, and the accompanying dull loneliness that I generally feel that makes me useful to God. I have come to a point where I truly believe that my daily cross to bear is that of being a man longing for the companionship of a wife, and specifically, I have been called to carry that cross for Meg.

As I walked, I thought about the gifts God has given me. I wondered why I had been granted certain skills, and what I was supposed to do with them. At that moment, the spark of desire began to burn within me to write a book. I feel as if there is a book that God is calling me to write, on a subject that I am intimately acquainted with, and that is at the center of my story. I feel as well that I must be single to write this book, and that indeed I will need to give birth to this book before it's ever conceivable that I will be married. As I see this book, it's absolutely vital that I pen it's pages as a single man, one who was rejected by the woman he loved, and who is longing and yearning with every fiber of his being to find a soul mate. I do not find it an accident now that every woman I have asked out since Meg has refused me. Today, I came to the undeniable conclusion that I have been single for 20 years because it was God's will for my life, and that he has a purpose for me, a very clear purpose: I must write this book. It may never be published, but I am committed to following through on what I feel God is asking me to do. I don't think there's a book quite like it, and I feel that if it were published, it would provide some usefulness.

I saw that book in its entirety this morning. It's now my job to give it birth. And in the meantime, I'm not going to think about finding anyone to date. No one will until I write this book--I'm convinced of it. And surprisingly, I found tremendous freedom in that realization. I didn't spend the rest of the day wondering if my wife would be found around the next bend. I've got a job to do. There will be plenty of time for a wife and family, but now it's time to get to work.

I tell you this: right now, I am sobered. I believe I have seen a glimpse at God's plan for my life, and I am humbled into silence.

A Story of God's Grace

This is a story about a trip to Texas, a computer, a printer, a recital a priest, an overdone steak and a flat screen TV.  It's a story about a bottle of wine, a brother, the sound of children sleeping, a dog named Pearl and a guy named Chad.  This is a story about God's boundless love and grace given in a time of need.

My story begins on Saturday when I bought a new printer.  Ostensibly Macs are "plug and play," but I couldn't get the printer to work.  It was frustrating to say the least, but little did I know that my frustration would be part of the puzzle of God's plan for my life for this past weekend, one of many pieces in a puzzle that fell into place in such a way that I would become keenly aware of God's love for me and that I am never outside of his watchful gaze.

The priest is of course my brother, who called me on Friday with a request to use my Costco membership to help get one of the best deals on the planet for a 50" plasma flat screen TV.  He sent me a link through email, but I didn't have time to order it.  He had hoped that I would order it online, and have it shipped to his house, which I would have been happy to do.  Some questions arose about taking advantage of the additional $150 rebate deal, and if I could do it in his name, so it was decided that I would go to Costco to ask in person on Saturday.  We were hoping to avoid him coming the hour and a half to my hosue.  Meanwhile, I received a text message from Steve, telling me to wait before proceeding further, since he needed to pray about the TV more.  It was a big purchase, and he wanted to make sure that God approved.  Eventually that was resolved, and Steve felt that his house could be a comfortable haven for fellow priests, friends and family.  He felt that it had God's seal of approval.  Little did he or I know how fundamentally important that TV would be for both of us, and that indeed, his purchase of that TV was ordained by God.

When I went to Costco, I found out that if the TV were to be purchased at the store, and if at the same time a contract with DirectTV was established, it would be even more of a savings.  The monkey wrench in the plans was this:  whoever would be using the DirectTV programming needed to be the one present in the store.  I called Steve back, thinking for sure that he would not be able to come, but since his Sunday afternoon and evening were free, we agreed to meet in the late afternoon.

He had commitments in the early afternoon, and I had a recital to play at.  We had planned to meet at 4:45, but the recital I played at started late, and Steve's hospice visitations went long as well.  Our time at Costco was further delayed by crossed paths, Steve filling up a gas station since he thought I would be later than I was, me heading in before him.  All in all, we were late in our schedule, and I was feeling the pressure of time, since I needed to pack for a trip to Texas that I'm on right now with my brass quintet.  It seemed that things were conspiring to make the evening last longer than it should, but we now know that was orchestrated by God.

At Costco, we discovered that the TV was too large to fit in Steve's car.  We decided that the best option was for him to order the TV online and have it shipped to his house.  I didn't see any reason why he needed to do it right away--he could certainly have waited until he got home that evening.  There was no reason for him to come to my house, but since I had already mentioned the printer debacle, and since he's a Mac devotee, he offered to come home and assist me, since I needed to print some things off for my tour.  It is important to realize that I have functioned without a usable printer for well over year--I realize now that it was no accident that I decided to purchase a printer on Saturday.  It was all ordained by God.

After we made the decision about Costco, we headed to Logan's, my favorite steak joint.  We both ordered medium rare, and Steve's steak came back like a hockey puck.  It took forever for our waitress to return for him to ask for a new one, and then quite a long time for the new steak to come back.  Meanwhile, I was feeling the time crunch even more because of my upcoming trip, and the fact that I hadn't packed at all.  It was getting late, but I was enjoying dinner with my brother and I decided that I would be packed when I was packed and just enjoyed the evening.

We finally headed home, much later than I had planned or anticipated.  My goal had been to be on the road to my brother Jim's house by 8:30 or so, and we arrived at my house at around 7:30, two and a half hours after we had met at Costco.  What we did there didn't need to take that long, but it did, and what we both realize now is that Steve was supposed to be at my house at 7:39 last night.

It was at that time that I received a text message on my phone.  There are very few people who text me, and I assumed it was someone from work.  Steve was busy ordering the TV, and I grabbed my phone to see what message had been left for me.  

This is what the message said:

"dis (sic) is Megan...I LOVE CHAD!"

Whoa.

Yikes.

Ouch.

Where did that come from?

I felt like I had been stabbed in the gut.  My body suddenly became hot, I felt pressure in my chest and I was instantly filled with gut wrenching pain.  I was confused and baffled and reeling from such an unexpected incursion into my life.  I tossed the phone to Steve, and asked him to read it.  He was stunned as well.

It felt like a red hot poker being thrust into my heart.  I told Steve that I knew in fact that it wasn't Megan--it wasn't her phone number, and the Megan I know would never do such a thing.  I could only imagine that this guy Chad, presumably the boyfriend of Megan, had somehow, in some bizarre chain of events, found my phone number on Meg's cellphone and decided to do something to the man who used to date his girlfriend.  Steve described it as being perverse and cruel and it was--it hurt like hell.

It didn't take too long for it to dawn on us that all of the events leading up to this moment were brought together because God loves me.  He knew that this moment would be terribly painful for me, and that I wouldn't have the grace to deal with it on my own.  There, in my room sat my brother who hasn't been in my house in four or five months, in my house, with me, at the very moment that this painful text message came into my house.

I was reeling with the shock of it, talking it through with Steve, and soon our talk turned towards suffering.  I have learned about suffering in this year and a half, and especially these past six months, and this is part of my continuing eduction.  As my brother said to me, suffering is an invitation to enter into the suffering of the cross.  I am a better man for Meg's rejection of me.  I have reached a point where I view my loneliness, and the pain of her rejection as gifts from God that allow me to offer all of that up on behalf of Megan.  As I sat there with Steve by my side, what I saw in the midst of the pain of that unwanted text message was an opportunity to enter deeper into service of Meg, to work towards what I care more about than anything in the world:  that Meg would know God's grace and love for her, and that she would be redeemed.  I could honestly say that the pain of that text message from this guy Chad was a severe mercy to me.  I am beginning to feel like Paul, that I can consider it a joy to be able to suffer on behalf of Meg.

In moments of grace, in those clear moments where I have come to firmly believe that any pain I feel of rejection or loneliness can be offered up on behalf of Meg, I have found myself praying, asking God to heap pain and loneliness on me.  I love Meg so, so much, and I want to be the kind of man that would be willing to suffer whatever pain it takes to bring her to Christ.  Yesterday, in a very harsh and bitter way, God answered that prayer.  But what I am left with, in the very heart of that tremendous pain, is a keen awareness of how much God truly loves me.  My brother was there.  My brother was THERE, by my side, in that moment of extreme pain, pain that I'm still feeling today.  My brother was there to come alongside me, to encourage me to choose the path of love, to choose to enter into the suffering, and to embrace it and to offer it up on behalf of Megan.  As he said so clearly, the path of suffering is a choice:  we either choose bitterness or we choose to love.  He was there to help encourage me to choose the latter.

That is my prayer, and I'd ask that those of you who read this would pray that I am courageous enough to choose that path.  Megan is so worthy of a love that would offer up everything to find for her salvation and peace, and I am beginning to feel that offering up all of my hopes and dreams for companionship on behalf of Megan is my vocation right now.  Salvation is a costly thing, and a life spent on behalf of someone's salvation is a life well lived.

In one of my moments of anguish over Meg's rejection of me, I asked God to reveal to me why he hadn't brought me to my wife instead of to Meg.  The answer was quick and clear.  God said to me, "I did this so that you would pray for Meg."  In that moment I wondered if all of those years of singleness, of yearning for that one with whom I would share my life were there to bring me to a relationship with Meg.  Someone who isn't a believer I think would find this all a bit melodramatic, but I think this is how God works.  His ways are not our ways!  I truly believe that my calling right now in life is to pray and suffer on behalf of Meg.  I tell you, my brothers and sisters, I gladly embrace that calling, and pray for me that I can be faithful to it!

I fear I will be lonely a long time, but I am more convinced of this than ever:  every moment of walking into my empty house, or seeing happily married couples, or attending a wedding, or pining simply to have someone to have dinner with--those are all moments I will live through on behalf of Megan.

Little did Chad know that his biting and perverse text message to me was a gift, a cruel thing transformed by the boundless grace of God into a tool more powerful than he can imagine on behalf of the one he purports to love.  It was a eucatastrophe, and all I can say is praise be to God!

Steve and I said our farewells, with many a hug, both of us floored by God's involvement in our lives yesterday.  I was still in pain, but what I will remember more than anything is God's orchestration of our lives that day, and that in his mercy he ordained my brother to be there.  As Steve left, we declared this TV to clearly have God's seal of approval, and blessing, and I look forward even more now to watching this TV!   

I had a lot of packing to do, and I contemplated the day and the text message, baffled and confused at the turn of events that led to the text message being sent.  It's a ripple from a life that is no longer shared with mine, an echo of the woman I love still.  I don't understand what motivated the message, but now I know that it was used by God, and for that I'm thankful.

I looked forward to getting out of the house however, and heading to my brother Jim's place.  He was taking me to the airport this morning, and I looked forward to sleeping under his roof.  I arrived after midnight, and he and his two oldest sons were up.  He had cracked open a bottle of wine and we talked into the wee hours of the morning, talking about the text message, about suffering, about God's will for our lives, and how God transforms things meant for evil into good.  We went to bed far too late, but it was good for my soul to have time like that with another brother.  

I brushed my teeth, and then went upstairs to my nephews' room where I always spend the night.  All three of them were fast asleep, and on my bed lay Pearl, their family's beloved golden retriever.  The ceiling fan was whirring gently in the background, and as I pulled back the covers, Pearl lifted her head and wagged her tail in greeting.  I pushed her over and found the bed warm where she had been lying and gladly snuggled in.  As I listened quietly, I heard the soft regular breathing of my nephew Zach, the occasional cough of little John, and a random snore or two from Josh.  I reached down and patted Pearl who inched ever so slightly forward to meet my hand and I quietly thanked God for my family, and for his grace and love.  I lay awake for a long time, listening to the comforting sounds of my nephews and finally drifted off to sleep.

Into Great Silence

I wasn't able to make it to a Good Friday service yesterday due to my schedule. Instead, I decided to watch a movie I've had for a few weeks now called Into Great Silence. The movie's inception began in 1984 when German filmmaker Philip Groening approached the Carthusian monks at Le Grande Chartreuse monastery in the French Alps with the request to film their monastic way of life. They said the time was not right, and that they would get back with him in ten to fifteen years. In 2000, they called him and said that they were ready. What resulted is one of the most remarkable films I've ever seen.

The Carthusian monks lead some of the most ascetic lives on the planet, lives dedicated to silent contemplation of God. They live in cells, cut off from their brothers except for their collective calls to prayer throughout the day. They are so isolated that they are even fed through doors in their cells. There is interaction, but it is minimal, intentionally.

I find it bizarre and strange, but compelling and beautiful at the same time. By the end of the movie, I was in awe of these men who've dedicated their lives so completely to God, and when one of the eldest among them began to speak about his conception of God, I took note.

He is old, frail and blind. Based on what he said, I presume he was asked if he was afraid of dying, and this was his response:

No! Why be afraid of death? It is the fate of all humans. The closer one brings oneself to God, the happier one is. It is the end of our lives. The closer one brings oneself to God, the happier one is, the faster one hurries to meet him. One should have no fear of death. On the contrary! For us, it is a great joy to find a Father once again. The past, the present, these are human. In God there is no past. Solely the present prevails. And when God sees us, He always sees our entire life. And because He is an infinitely good being, He eternally seeks our well-being. Therefore, there is no cause for worry in any of the things which happen to us. I often thank God that he let me be blinded. I am sure he let this happen for the good of my soul. It is a pity that the world has lost all sense of God. It is a pity...They have no reason to live anymore. When you abolish the thought of God, why should you go on living on this earth? One must always part from the principle that God is infinitely good, and that all of his actions are in our best interest. Because of this a Christian should always be happy, never unhappy. Because everything that happens is God's will, and it only happens for the well-being of our soul. Well, this is the most important. God is infinitely good, almighty, and he helps us. This is all one must do, and then one is happy.

I come once again to the fundamental belief that the greatest argument for Christianity is rooted in the greatest paradox that we can confront in our lives: how can a good and benevolent God allow so much suffering in the world? I believe that the only compelling answer to the problem of pain is rooted in Christ's death on the cross: ultimate evil transformed into ultimate good. This wise man, living a life of constant contemplation and devotion to God has reached the point where he views his blindness as the greatest of gifts, an expression of God's ineffable love for him. Because everything that happens is God's will, and it only happens for the well-being of our soul. These are hard words, but they ring true.

I struggle constantly with being single, wondering why and when God will bring a companion to my life. I will not lie--I suffer greatly from loneliness. As I've said many times, it is without question the daily cross that I bear, and there is no question of my picking it up. It is my existence and it pains me perpetually. I have not reached the point where I can echo what this wise man has said, that I thank God for the pain of loneliness, because it is my lot and God's will, for the betterment of my soul. But perhaps that is the lesson I'm supposed to learn though this period of a solitary life: to say with gratefulness in my heart, "thy will be done."

It has been a little over six months since I've seen or talked with Meg, and a year and a half since we ended our relationship. We were together for exactly that amount of time, and I realize that I still love her as much as I ever have. I think about her constantly, despite wishing that I was free of thoughts of her. I've tried desperately to move on from her, but I can't seem to do it. I love her, deeply, and it seems still that every day I am pained by her rejection of me.

The question I am confronted with after watching this film, and hearing this wise man's words is this: can I thank God for Meg's rejection of me, and all of the pain that I have lived with as a result of that rejection, and say that it was God's will, and more than that: that it was a gift from God for the betterment of my soul? What is more tragic, blindness or the spurning of a woman? Can I view all of the times I've been rejected by women as God's will for me, for the betterment of my well-being?

That is hard, but it seems to me the only course of action one can take, unless one desires simply to be filled with hatred and bitterness. It would be easy to become a misogynist, I suppose, when you feel so often that women take no notice of you. That's the easy path. The hard path is to thank God for the pain of rejection, simply because it must be God's will, since God is "infinitely good, and almighty, and he helps us." If that is the case, then every women who's ever rejected me has done so because it was his will, allowed for the betterment of my soul.

May I have just a fraction of the faith, trust and wisdom of that blind man.

Words of Promise

My brass quartet and I played for the Chrism Mass yesterday back home. I was particularly struck with the beauty and power of the first reading:

Is 61:1-3a

The Spirit of the Lord GOD is upon me,
because the LORD has anointed me;
He has sent me to bring glad tidings to the lowly,
to heal the brokenhearted,
To proclaim liberty to the captives
and release to the prisoners,
To announce a year of favor from the LORD
and a day of vindication by our God,
to comfort all who mourn;
To place on those who mourn in Zion
a diadem instead of ashes,
To give them oil of gladness in place of mourning,
a glorious mantle instead of a listless spirit.

On this Good Friday, I cling to the promises contained in this passage.

I've decided to pray about finding some sort of a spiritual mentor or spiritual director. I find I'm filled with all kinds of questions, thoughts, struggles and musings. As I think about life and our spiritual journey, I want someone to talk to about the thoughts and questions coursing through my head. I go to a counselor from time to time who has at times been a spiritual mentor, but he has a very clear role in my life, at least the way I see it, and I'd like to keep that separate from primarily having someone in my life to talk about questions of a spiritual nature.

I've lately begun to have some pretty heavy questions about what God's will might be for my life, including in some areas very dear to my heart. I don't want to write about them in my blog, and I don't want to talk about them necessarily with my friends and family either. I think sometimes we need the wisdom of a Godly man or woman, separate from our friends or family who can be counted on to respond dispassionately to what we feel God is telling us and give us insights that can only come from wisdom gained from years of following after God.

I would really like to find someone like that, but I'm not really sure how to go about finding one however.

You have to be careful with dreams--sometimes the price we must pay to dream is too high. We need to dream, but when those dreams are dashed or seem to never be fulfilled you can easily find your heart burdened down by shouldering the full weight of a life you have only hoped to live. That can be too much to bear.

I grow weary of dreaming of finding a woman to share my life with. I am always questioning when I will find the woman God has in store for me. I hope always that today might be the day that I will meet her, but so far, today hasn't come. I don't know if I can live much longer asking that question each and every day, but it's a question that is as automatic and regular to me as breathing.

I sometimes wonder about faith and our actions. If you pray for a job, that doesn't mean you stop sending in applications. You do what's in your power to help fulfill that prayer, right? If you're ill or recovering from surgery, and ask God to heal you, you still go to physical therapy, right? What about finding a wife? I’m not single still for a lack of trying to find her. It's not for fear of asking women out. I’ve finally broken through that hurdle. I ask them out and they say no. So be it--that's the way it usually works for most people. But I’ve reached a point where I'm about ready to toss in the towel on "doing the right stuff." It wears me down. Just last week a woman who I've been working on getting to know and hoping to go out with for several months revealed to me that she's already in a relationship. Rejection and dashed dreams like this can be a huge emotional drain for me. I don’t think I can take it anymore. It fits far too closely to the pattern of my life in this regard and I’mworn out by the whole vain hoping and wishing that today might be the day. I signed up on eHarmony again and I’ve thought about joining some of the other sites again in an attempt to “do the right stuff” to help fulfill my prayer, though I’m reaching the point where I’m not sure if that’s wise for me. I can't live my life anymore wholly consumed with looking for the next possible avenue where I'll meet my wife or hoping that today might finally be the day I’ll meet her.

When I think about finding a wife I must think about God and God's will for my life. It's clear that God's will for me right now is to be single. I must accept that, but at the same time God knows the desires of my heart, and praying for a companion is certainly something that God understands. He hears my prayer and he will answer it when he sees fit. I hope and pray that will be soon. I feel as if time to enjoy a life with my wife is slipping away. I want as much time as I can have! I envy those who married in their youth. I think about having children and how they would probably come several years away. I want my children to have a close relationship with their cousins, but they are all getting older and I suspect that by the time I have a child, my oldest nephew will be old enough to be my own child’s father. As time passes, my children’s chances of having cousins close in age to them grow more and more slim. That saddens me. I want my children to have as many years as they can with my parents too. I desire for them to know their grandparents for as long as they can, but often I fear that marriage for me is far away. I’m chomping at the bit to get married, but for whatever reason, God has said no. I pray, “thy will be done,” but it’s hard waiting. Feeling as if time is passing me by and passing by for my children just compounds the angst I feel as I continue in this solitary state. It adds urgency to the question of whether or not today is the day.

I am beginning to reach the point where I realize I have no choice but to leave the matchmaking utterly and completely in God's hands. Here is the fact: if I am to marry some day, that woman is walking this earth now. She's not going to suddenly appear in my sleep, made from a missing rib of mine. She's out there now, probably asking the same questions that I'm asking, wondering where her husband can be found, who he is and what he's like. I feel like my focus needs to shift. Instead of constantly wondering where I'm going to find my wife, I’ve decided that my prayer is going to shift towards her. I'm going to ask God to help her find me. It's her prayer I'm sure as well. She wants to find me as much as I want to find her. I think it will be easier on my sanity if I pray for her quest, and that God would orchestrate her finding me. I just can't live continually hoping and longing that today will be the day I will find her. I’m ready to give up honestly, not for the lack of desire, but just because I don’t think I can maintain my sanity anymore like this. For me, a peaceful day would be one in which the thought of who my wife will be didn’t cross my mind.

I just hope with all my heart that God will bring us together soon. The thought of having to wait for many more years is very hard to stomach. All I can do is live each day, and trust in God. For my sanity’s sake, I think I really need to live my life now with the thought that I’m a confirmed bachelor, until some sort of miracle happens and I meet a woman who will want to share her life with me and I with her.

I also am convinced of this: that woman will be a fortunate woman. I'm a good man, and I know that I will love and cherish my wife more than your average man. I look forward to loving her, but for now, I’m living life as a single man, and I’m going to try hard to adjust my thinking to embrace that and leave my future completely in God's hands. We’ll see if I’m successful.

I can't leave well enough alone.

My mind was a-cogitatin' during the Nutcracker performance tonight and I decided to whip up a couple more ganaches tonight when I got home. What got me all fired up was thinking about creating a truffle with milk chocolate, imbued with Irish cream. I was contemplating rolling it in ground up chocolate covered coffee beans. That's an itch that just needed to be scratched, so can you blame me for chopping up some chocolate and getting to work again when I got home? Here's the kicker...I couldn't find a recipe that uses alcohol with milk chocolate so I sort of had to wing it. I'm going to write what I did, in case it works and I want to create it again. And if it doesn't work out, well, then I'll know to avoid it. The recipe I started with called for 8 oz. of chocolate and 1/2 cup, plus two tablespoons, of heavy cream. I wanted to make sure that the ganache was thick enough to roll or cut into squares, and since I wanted to double the amounts, I went with one cup of cream, two tablespoons of butter, a couple of teaspoons of vanilla and three tbsp of Irish Cream. Let me tell you, it's TASTY!!! We'll see what it looks like in the morning. If it's too runny I'm thinking it could really be a great filling for molded chocolates, which I haven't tried my hand at just yet.

I haven't broken out the dark chocolate yet either, so I whipped up a raspberry ganache using some really good Belgian dark chocolate. The recipe I used suggested steeping some raspberry or black currant tea with the cream while it heated, so I looked in the pantry and fortunately found some raspberry tea. It should add a nice complexity to the raspberry flavor which is heightened by adding some Chambord raspberry liqueur. That's the essence of raspberry and it's one of my favorite liqueurs. I'll always have that in my pantry. I was tempted to add some black pepper, believe it or not, but decided to hold off on that. I think that would have been a nice background note. As to the source of my recipe, I used Sherry Yards's recipe. She's one of my favorite pastry chefs and is the guru at Wolfgang Puck's restaurants. She really knows what she's doing and anything I've ever made from her book is absolutely top shelf. I highly recommend her book The Secrets of Baking.

I made another gelee earlier today as well. This one used sour cherries from Traverse City. I'm a little underwhelmed by these gelees. I need to do more research on them because none of them are really working out the way I want them to. They all are a bit droopy, for lack of a better word. They don't hold together like I want them to do, but I suspect that's because they're not laden with all kinds of chemicals. I think these are the types of things that you serve ala minute, putting them out with the hopes that your guests will eat them within minutes of serving. Regardless, I made the cherry gelees today and even if I never give them away I've just got to tell you how amazingly tasty they turned out. I've decied this: All God ever had to do was to make a cherry and I'd dedicate my life to him. The creative brilliance behind such a remarkable fruit makes me stand in awe. Sour cherries are so damn tasty that I'll get down on bended knee and thank the good Lord for giving them to us. The complexity of flavors in cherries really boggles my mind. And aren't you glad that cherries are red and not not brown? If anyone wants to know, incidentally, I eat to give praise to God. I'm going to go with this: eating is an act of worship. (Sounds like a keeper of a philosophy, don't you think?) So let me publicly say it: thank God for cherries! My life is decidedly richer and more complete because of a perfect little red fruit.

While mulling around in the kitchen, I was thinking about the anticipation I was feeling the other night on the eve of starting my chocolate marathon. It caused me to think back on moments in my childhood on the eve of vacation, or on Christmas Eve. My niece Betsy came to mind as well. Last Christmas, several of us went in together to buy her an awesome play kitchen that she wished for with all her little heart. That Christmas there wasn’t a happier girl in America than my niece. When no one else was around, she went up to her mom and said, “Mom, I’m so excited, I can’t get all my excited’s out!” I think God is pleased when we’re excited by good things, when we can’t sleep because we’re so excited at the prospect of an adventure or a fun endeavor. There is something good and wholesome about being so passionate about something that we can’t sleep. Making chocolates and candies feeds a desire to be creative within me, and I believe that desire stems from God. Anytime we use our creative skills we model ourselves after God, don’t you think? And when I think of Betsy not being able to get all of her excited’s out, I think about the fact that we are made in God’s image. Don’t you think that sometimes God is so excited that he can’t get all of his excited’s out? I think back on when God told me to just trust me—in my mind he appeared as excited at the prospect of me trusting him as my niece felt about that kitchen.

A few year's ago, there would have been a part of me that would have been a bit embarrassed to admit that I couldn’t sleep because I was thinking about chocolates, but thank God I’ve reached a point where I’m willing to celebrate that instead of be embarrassed by it. I think not being able to sleep before an exciting day is something that we have because we're made in God's image. I've just got to believe that God was thrilled and filled with excitement when he created the cherry! Imagine him saying to the angels, “check this out boys…go ahead and have a sample of my handiwork, and tell me what you think.” I’m thinking they gave him two thumbs up and that they echoed their God and said, “it’s good!” My satisfaction in making a tasty little treat is a mirror of that, but can you imagine conjuring up a cherry where none existed before? That just blows my mind.

For me, all I really need to believe in God is a cherry.

I gotta just tell you, my heart is filled with a lot of joy right now, and a lot of love for my Maker. I'm glad he called me to him, and my heart is filled with joy that can only come from him. And all of that because of chocolate and cherries.

Another Poem

If Everything Is Lost

If everything is lost, thanks be to God
If I must see it go, watch it go,
Watch it fade away, die
Thanks be to God that He is all I have
And if I have Him not, I have nothing at all
Nothing at all, only a farewell to the wind
Farewell to the gray sky
Goodbye, God be with you evening October skye.
If all is lost, thanks be to God
For He is He, and I, I am only I.

- Dom Julian OSB, in a Severe Mercy

Another poem here sent to me by a good friend, who shared that this is one of her favorites. It's worth moving from my comments into my main blog. I remember this poem from reading a Severe Mercy, but had forgotten it until my friend reminded me of it. It's written on the death of Sheldon Vanauken's wife, which C.S. Lewis dubbed a "severe mercy" since she offered her life up on behalf of the salvation of her husband. Powerful stuff.

Another poem

A good friend of mine sent this to me, and I thought I would post it here.

NO SCAR?

Hast thou no scar?
No hidden scar on foot, or side, or hand?
I hear thee sung as mighty in the land;
I hear them hail thy bright, ascendant star.
Hast thou no scar?

Hast thou no wound?
Yet I was wounded by the archers; spent,
Leaned Me against a tree to die; and rent
By ravening beasts that compassed
Me, I swooned.
Hast thou no wound?

No wound? No scar?
Yet, as the Master shall the servant be,
And piercèd are the feet that follow Me.
But thine are whole; can he have followed far
Who hast no wound or scar?

BY AMY CARMICHAEL,
IRISH MISSIONARY TO INDIA FOR 55 YEARS

There are no coincidences...

A couple of weeks ago after church I headed out to the shops by the mall near church to do a little shopping and run some errands. After an hour or two I ended up at the mall and as I headed inside I saw the movie posters and wondered if the movie Bella was playing. This is a movie I'd been meaning to see since my folks had been encouraging me to check it out.

Sure enough, it happened to be playing there and the show time was perfect for me to see the movie. I was able to have lunch and then had about 35 minutes or so to fill before the movie started. I bopped over to Pottery Barn and Restoration Hardware as is my wont, and then I headed to the theater.

Once I got in the auditorium I headed towards the back, scanning for a good seat. To my surprise I saw some people I thought I recognized but since they live an hour and a half away, I couldn't imagine it was them but I figured I needed to get closer to find out for sure. As I neared their row I knew with absolute certainty who it was and I decided to go and sit with them.

I walked quickly up their aisle, touched the woman on the arm and surprised her as I said, "excuse me, is someone sitting here?" At first I could see she was taken aback, considering the fact that there were scads of empty seats in the theater. Suddenly recognition entered her eyes and she reached towards me with a desire to hug me, her godson. Needless to say I was blown away to find my godparents there in that theater, at that precise moment.

We all enjoyed the movie and decided to go out for dinner together. We headed over to Carraba's for some Italian food. I had a terrific time catching up with them and enjoying their company. We were all struck with the improbability of running into each other. It was clearly a "God thing" and we all recognized it.

After giving them some hugs and a hearty farewell, I drove away and reflected on the likelihood of running into Mr. and Mrs. C. I shook my head and was struck with a keen awareness of how God watches our steps and that he cares about even the smallest things in our life. In my present state, I can so easily find myself in moments of despair, where I doubt the promises of God and question his will and plan for my life. I have times of despondent thinking where I tell myself that I'll never find another woman I'll love, that my best chance for companionship has past, and that even if the "right" woman is out there, I'll never meet her.

It's clear to me that I didn't run into my godparents by mistake. God was speaking very directly to me through the "coincidence" of running into them. My godparents are some of my parents oldest and dearest friends and I know they have taken their role of godparents seriously--I know they pray and have prayed for me for years. I take comfort in that. They were there at my baptism, over 37 years ago, when I was baptized into the body of Christ, the moment where God called me, the first of his many plans for me. Running into my godparents, not just some random friends from home--it wasn't a coincidence that I ran into them! They were there, witnesses to me becoming a child of God, the two chosen by my parents to pray for me, to help and support them in raising me in the ways of Christ. In these cloudy days I've been living in, running into my godparents in such a seemingly random way shows me that God watches over me, that he guides my feet and my path, and that he's been doing so since the beginning of my life 37 years ago. There are no coincidences, and all of the promises of God apply to me as much as anyone. My future, my dreams, my life and my deepest desire--to find a wife--are ultimately in his hands. Running into my godparents showed me so clearly that God can and does orchestrate events anyway he wants--I don't have to worry about meeting my wife. I simply will, and God will arrange it.

I realize that the truth of this is something that I need to continually tell myself. I need to always return to moments like this to help me remember what it is that God's teaching me. It's hard to live in this state 24/7--it's an internal battle that wages silently on, the battle between trusting God or giving into fatalistic thinking. I suppose that's a battle I'll be waging the rest of my life, but running into my godparents like I did two weeks ago is certainly ammunition to help tip the balance in favor of trusting God.

From Isaiah 43:

16 This is what the LORD says—
he who made a way through the sea,
a path through the mighty waters,

17 who drew out the chariots and horses,
the army and reinforcements together,
and they lay there, never to rise again,
extinguished, snuffed out like a wick:

18 "Forget the former things;
do not dwell on the past.

19 See, I am doing a new thing!
Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?
I am making a way in the desert
and streams in the wasteland."

It seems to me that a God who made a "path through the mighty waters," is a God who can manage to set my feet on a path that will bring me to my wife.

(I'm just hoping it's soon.)

More Poetry

INCARNATION

When the Holy One stepped from endless order
into the chaos of our days, it was winter.
Weather blew everywhere. Time itself was dying.
The squirrel, with a tail soft as breath,
curled inside the maple trunk.

The cold stayed. Five-fingered leaves pressed the ground,
their stems perpendicular, thin wrists above each flame-tipped palm.
Cataclysm scanned the days; like any future, like our own.
The Holy One took face and voice, beginning with an infant cry,
took food and sleep, nestled in arms not unlike yours.

He listened to the dropping rain, watched it bead the naked twigs,
saw it polish stones and faces, stood once under this lift of sky
and still, in a word, understands.

---Penelope Duckworth

For Me, For Sherry, For Torey

The Peace of Wild Things

When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

— Wendell Berry

In these difficult and trying days of heartbreak I am discovering great solace in poetry. I usually don't read poetry but I find a need for words that resonate with the place where my heart and soul reside right now. I find that I'm hungry to find words more eloquent than my own to speak aloud the feelings and thoughts running through my heart and mind nearly every moment of the day.

This poem of Wendell Berry spoke to the very deepest part of me. Yesterday was a tough day and at one point in the afternoon I lay down on my bed and stared at the ceiling with a keen awareness that all I could do at that very moment was stare at the ceiling. I had no energy or will to do anything but that, and I realized that was OK. I thought about what I had to do today and I couldn't imagine facing it. What came immediately to mind was Christ's admonition to not worry about tomorrow--at that point, I simply couldn't think about tomorrow or the next day. Surprisingly I found immense freedom in that awareness and I was able to let go and simply live in that moment and realize that God's grace was sufficient for that moment and that there would be grace for the next day and the day after that.

I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.

I tax my life far too frequently with the forethought of grief and with concerns stemming from a feeling of despair. How easy that is for me right now, to think that they'll never be another woman like Meg in my life, or that this ache in my heart will never go away. But then I'm reminded of the words of Julian of Norwich:

All will be well, and all will be well, and all manner of things will be well.

Most comforting of all, the words of Christ:

Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more important than food, and the body more important than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life? And why do you worry about clothes? See how the lilies of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith? So do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own. (Matthew 6:25-34).

I cling to these words with my life.

For ten bucks, that's a bargain.

A deep distress hath humanized my soul.

--William Wordsworth

I think I'm a wiser man than I was just two months ago. I think pain has a way of transforming us, of humanizing us and forcing us to grow. I ran into a homeless man the other day who asked me for money for a sandwich outside of a great sandwich shop. What's $10 to me? Nothing. But to him? I was surprised at the utter joy that entered his face when he saw that I had given him two five dollar bills. His toothless grin lit up as if he was a kid at Christmas. He leaped up and thanked me profusely and since I had also given him a recommendation of a great sandwich to try, he wanted to hear again which one I recommended. Shaking his hand and seeing his gratitude and happiness humbled me and gave me a healthy dose of perspective. I quickly realized that I received more out of the transaction than he did. It made me think that perhaps when we are going through difficult things that one of the best things we can do is to do something for other people. I believe we are more "human" when we suffer and in suffering we become more compassionate and caring towards our fellow man. In times like what I'm going through now I know it's easy for me to dwell on just me, but I'm becoming convinced that the only way through, and the only way to deal with the trials of life is to embrace them and think of others, all the while trusting in a God who loves us.

That toothless grin is something I don't want to forget.

Elisabeth Elliot, III

As I struggle with dealing with what's going on in my life, I find that my faith in God is being tested each and every day. It is hard to trust God in the face of losing the one thing you desired above all else in life--in the face of losing something that you believed with all your heart would have been the greatest possible gift God could ever bring into your life. But that is what I am obviously being tested in each day. I am trying more and more each day to trust in Him, with mixed success.

The chapter I read tonight in Elisabeth Elliot's book speaks more eloquently than I ever could about trusting God. These are the words I need to hear right now:

Each time the mystery of suffering touches us personally and all the cosmic questions arise afresh in our minds we face the choice between faith (which accepts) and unbelief (which refuses to accept). There is only one faculty by which we may lay hold of this mystery. It is the faculty of faith, and "faith is the fulcrum of moral and spiritual balance."

I write as one who has desperately needed a refuge. The bottom has dropped out of my world, as it were, more than once. What, exactly, was going on? Where was I to turn? To God? Is He God or is He not? Does He love me or does He not? Am I adrift in chaos or is the word true that tells me I am an individual created, called, loved, and purposefully placed in a cosmos, an ordered universe, a universe designed, created and completely under the control of a loving God and Father?

It helps me, at such a time of bewilderment and sorrow, to go to some of the simplest words, such as I am the good shepherd. My Lord chose that description of Himself, and He does not change. He was and is and always will be my shepherd. The word fits my need, for I am a sheep, helpless and bleating. He cannot forget one for whom He lays down His life. I bank everything on that.

"Shall there be a mutiny among the flocks and herds, because their lord or their shepherd chooses their pastures, and suffers them not to wander into deserts and unknown ways?" wrote Jeremy Taylor. I choose to believe, to surrender, to trust, and to accept. That much I can do. God then does what I can't do--"When the enemy shall come in like a flood, the Spirit of the Lord shall lift up a standard against him" (Is 59:19).

I am not happy with the pasture that I find myself in right now--shall I mutiny? Shall I rebel? Shall I protest that God didn't do for me what I wanted and expected Him to do? Do I believe that He laid out plans for me from before the foundation of the world? Can I trust Him that He has a woman and soul mate in store for me? Do I really believe it when God says that He knows the plans He has for me? And can I allow myself to trust that His will for me, that His plans for me will provide me with greater joy than if I was in charge? And even harder yet: can I trust Him so completely to risk the possibility that I will never marry, all the while saying to Him, "Thy Will Be Done?" Hard stuff, this.

He cannot forget one for whom He lays down His life. I bank everything on that!

We are Christ to each other--right now, Elisabeth Elliot is speaking the words of Christ that I need to hear most desperately. I can't recommend the book enough.

Elisabeth Elliot, II

I like this Orthodox prayer that Elisabeth Elliot prays daily:

"Teach me to treat all that comes to me with peace of soul and with firm conviction that Your will governs all. In unforeseen events let me not forget that all are sent by You."

Elisabeth Elliot

I've been reading a book I bought years ago by Elisabeth Elliot called A Path Through Suffering. I began reading it when I bought it but never finished it. As I scanned my bookshelf recently looking for books that could feed my soul I decided it was high time to dust it off and give it another try.

It's a beautiful book and I'm learning a lot from her insights as well as taking comfort in what she has written. There are a few excerpts that I feel are particularly meaningful to me, and so I'll share a few of them over the next few days.

So you can understand the book, she uses analogies from nature: the seasonal flow of winter into spring, or pruning of the vines by the master gardener, or the transformation of something called a gorse thorn into a beautiful flower. Life from death as shown to us in nature.

So here it is--in the gorse blossoming from thorns, in the harvest of wheat from the solitary grain--the gospel, the Good News of life out of death, a gospel for every individual, every need, every hopeless and helpless situation.

"It'll never work for mine," someone is tempted to say. Are you sure your problems baffle the One who since the world began has been bringing flowers from thorns? Your thorns are a different story, are they? You have been brought to a place of self-despair, nothingness. It is hard even to think of any good reason to go on. You live in most unfavorable conditions...you are up against impossible odds. Is this something new? The people of Israel were up against impossible odds when they found themselves between the chariots of Egypt and the Red Sea. Their God is our God. The God of Israel and the God of the gorse thorns looks down on us with love and says, "Nothing has happened to you which is not common to all. I can manage it. Trust Me."

He wants to transform every form of human suffering into something glorious. He can redeem it. He can bring life out of death. Every event of our lives provides opportunity to learn the deepest lesson anyone can learn on earth, "My present life is not that of the old 'I,' but the living Christ within me" (Gal 2:20, JBP). When our souls lie barren in a winter which seems hopeless and endless, God has not abandoned us. His work goes on. He asks our acceptance of the painful process and our trust that He will indeed give resurrection life.

This is exactly what I need to hear. A great part of the loss of Meg for me is a hard to shake belief that there isn't anyone out there who could possibly be more well suited to me than she. They are impossible odds in my mind. In my hubris, I seem to say to God sometimes, "good luck finding someone better for me than Meg!" Sometimes some straight talking like what Elisabeth Elliot wrote above is exactly what the doctor ordered. Do I actually believe that God can't handle it? I have to continually cling to the words I heard him say to me: "I can't wait to show you the ending--you're going to love it."

There is a story from Steve's and my trip to the U.P. that I keep meaning to relay but just haven't gotten around to it until now. It's germane to this post, so no time like the present.

We were in the U.P. on the heels of me professing my love to Meg. As we were discussing how she might respond to me, talk turned towards all kinds of things having to do with trusting God and putting your faith in him. I mentioned how Jeremiah 29:11 has at different times in my life been either solace or a stumbling block. The thought of "plans and a future" seemed to ring hollow for me sometimes, and I was struggling with thinking about it that day.

The following morning I started out driving so Steve could do his daily readings in the Liturgy of the Hours. After we traded seats, he handed me the Liturgy and asked me to read the Scriptures for that day. You can see where this is going, right? What do you think was included in that day's readings? How about Jeremiah 29:11?

That's no coincidence and a sign that God cares about me and my life, enough to do something so clearly directly related to my life. There's a hint of God's sense of humor there too, don't you think? Regardless, the message was clear: God really does want me to trust Him, and he means what He says. I just wish I could let go completely and trust Him fully. When I think of Meg right now though, it's just so hard.

I'm trying.

God help me, I'm trying.

Further thoughts on prayer, plus a bit on suffering

I've been rereading an excellent book by Peter Kreeft called Making Sense out of Suffering. There's one paragraph in particular that rang forth like a bell for me.

"All our sufferings are transformable into his work, our passion into his action. That is why he instituted prayers, says Pascal: to bestow on creatures the dignity of causality."

It seems Lewis wasn't the first to articulate how we enter into playing an active role in bringing about the will of God.

Kreeft goes on:

"We are really his body; the Church is Christ as my body is me. That is why Paul says his sufferings are making up in his own body what Christ has yet to endure in his body (Col 1:24).

"Thus God's answer to the problem of suffering not only really happened 2,000 years ago, but it is still happening in our own lives. The solution to our suffering is our suffering! All our suffering can become part of his work, the greatest work ever done, the work of salvation, of helping to win for those we love eternal joy."

That last bit of italicized text was something I had underlined years ago when I first read this book. But as you can imagine, it means much more to me now, since there is someone who I love dearly, and for whom my greatest desire is that she might find eternal joy. If I can be a part of winning that for her, I'd be the happiest man on the planet.

Why Do We Pray?

I know this is a question that's been bandied about for a few millenia, but now it's my turn to wrestle with this one a bit. Let me be clear that I'm not asking this because I don't think we need to pray, or because I believe it's not efficacious at all, but rather it's because of late I've been praying more than is my usual mode and this question has risen in my mind.

I've been praying in earnest for a few weeks for Meg, and I will continue to do so since I feel it's what God wants me to do. I sometimes wonder why I love this woman so much, since it's overwhelming to me at times, but then I wonder if it's so that I will pray for her like a banshee. If not me then who? Maybe the sole purpose of my love for Meg, and the intensity of that love, coupled with the loss I feel is so that I will pray for her. I guess that is the way I look at it right now, and it sure makes the pain I feel more tolerable.

In church last week there was a discussion of a passage in Acts where some of the apostles headed to Antioch. The passage says that "the hand of the Lord was with them" and that many turned their hearts towards God. How does conversion work anyway? What happens when you pray that someone will turn his or her heart towards God? We have free will, but what happens when "the hand of the Lord" is so directly involved? What miraculous events are needed to bring someone to God? And how does our praying for it aid it along? God clearly desires the whole world to come to him--can we say that his hand is involved at certain times more than at others? Are the prayers of the faithful vitally important in determining when his hand is involved, or the degree to which he is empowered to impact the lives of those he is calling to him?

I saw a devotional at a bargain bookstore the other day written for a very specific target audience: women believers whose husbands are not believers. Can we not assume that the women who would be buying that book are praying for the conversion of their husbands, and that their prayers are some of the most zealous and heart-rending prayers that go up to heaven? Why do some convert while others don't? Obviously the answer is free will, but where do our prayers enter into the equation and why are some effective and others not?

In essence, I'm asking the same question I know so many people have asked time and time again: why does God need us to pray? Well, obviously he doesn't need us to do anything, but he desires us to pray. But do our prayers really help? Of course, I believe they do, but why? Why do they if God is all powerful? A better question: why does God choose to need us?

I feel like these are very elementary questions, but I've never felt compelled to pray so earnestly for anything in my life, and it's causing me to wrestle with these kinds of questions. It's fascinating to me, actually, and I guess I'm hoping to find words of wisdom from men and women much wiser than I that will spur me on to pray even more fervently. I guess the bottom line is that I'd like to know that my prayers mean something, that they are being used by God.

I plan on doing some reading, so any book recommendations would be appreciated (and that goes for my family members too, who tend to read my blog in silence, which is OK with me, but suggestions here would be appreciated.)

I did find the following C.S. Lewis quote from his essay The Efficacy of Prayer that helps a lot in this regard, and I'm going to try and track it down.

Can we believe that God ever really modifies His action in response to the suggestions of men? For infinite wisdom does not need telling what is best, and infinite goodness needs no urging to do it. But neither does God need any of those things that are done by finite agents, whether living or inanimate. He could, if He chose, repair our bodies miraculously without food; or give us food without the aid of farmers, bakers, and butchers, or knowledge without the aid of learned men; or convert the heathen without missionaries. Instead, He allows soils and weather and animals and the muscles, minds, and wills of men to cooperate in the execution of His will... It is not really stranger, nor less strange, that my prayers should affect the course of events than that my other actions should do so. They have not advised or changed God' s mind -- that is, His overall purpose. But that purpose will be realized in different ways according to the actions, including the prayers, of His creatures.