Unburied Treasure

“Lay up for yourselves treasure in heaven, 

where neither moth nor rust corrupt, and thieves do not break in and steal...

for where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.” 

(Matthew 6:20-21)

Bilbo Baggins the hobbit gazed down miserably from Ravenhill, into the valley between two great arms of the Lonely Mountain. There before him a vicious battle was raging, pitting dwarves, elves and men against a ghastly host of goblins and their allies, the evil wargs.

His adventure had come to an end. Chosen by Gandalf the wizard and Thorin the dwarf-lord as the “burglar” who would spy out the dark passages of the Mountain and venture into the fearsome lair of the wicked dragon, Smaug, Bilbo, with the aid of a magical ring, had amply fulfilled his contract. He had rescued Thorin and his twelve companions several times during their journey, had played a key role in discovering the way into the mountain halls, and had even reported Smaug’s weak spot so that the mighty bowman Bard was able to shoot down the dragon in its flight with his final arrow! For these remarkable services, the tiny hobbit had been promised one fourteenth share of the dragon’s stolen and hoarded treasure.

But now, what had seemed like a tremendous victory was turning into a calamity greater than the death and destruction dealt out by the dragon himself. This Battle of the Five Armies was the direct result of the news that Smaug’s golden hoard was no longer guarded by the monster, and Thorin, heir of the dwarf-kings of old, was unwilling to divide his treasure with other races, even when their claims seemed valid.

In J.R.R. Tolkien’s Middle-earth, dwarves were described as expert miners, smiths and craftsmen, digging, delving and building vast underground cities. Beneath the earth they sought out the natural treasuries of iron, copper, silver, gold and gems, which they fashioned into works of inexpressible beauty. With so much hard work invested in their treasures, it is easy to see why it filled Thorin’s heart with such hot desire, and made him willing to guard it with his own life, as well as the lives of his companions.

But later, at the side of Thorin’s death-bed, Bilbo would hear words of repentance from the lips of this proud King Under the Mountain. The hobbit cared little for the glitter of trinkets or the light of jewels...he had repeatedly longed only to return safely to his comfortable home under the Hill back in the Shire, with or without his fourteenth share of dragon-treasure. Thorin praised these simple desires in the end, confessing that if more people desired such things above the lust for gold and other riches, the world would be a merrier place.

Tolkien then put even more telling words into Thorin’s mouth as he was dying. He told Bilbo that he was about to go to sit among his ancestors and wait with them, “until the world is renewed.” What a poignant reminder that this world--Middle-earth or our own world--is not our final dwelling place. Nothing here that we value so highly is of permanent value; all will pass away. I might dig and dig for an entire lifetime, unearthing mineral riches that will satisfy even a dragon’s lust for treasure. It will vanish in the end. The Creator of heaven and earth, who spoke this universe into being, will just as easily speak it back into nothingness.

What will endure beyond the world’s renewal are the lives of the people around us. Contrary to the naturalistic fatalism of our times, physical death is not the end. None of us faces oblivion when he or she passes out of this world. Solomon said in the book of Ecclesiastes that God has placed eternity in the heart of man. We instinctively know that we are destined for an eternal, unending existence. Here, on this planet, we value things for their beauty, their splendor and craftsmanship, the passing pleasure they give...and, most of all, their “permanence.” But we know down deep that this permanence is not truly permanent, after all. You and I will outlast these things we cherish so highly. We will enter eternity someday and face our Creator. And he will either hail us as his beloved children, or judge and banish us as his bitter enemies.

Earthly treasures will not comfort us on that day. Fortunes we have amassed on planet earth will be left behind. Power, prestige, possessions and all our noble plans for the future will be stripped away. All that will matter is the treasure of knowing Jesus Christ.

How can I obtain this Person? This priceless treasure? Not by paying for it. Not by earning or deserving it. Jesus gives Himself to me freely as my Savior and King. I must merely reach out empty hands of faith and receive Him.

All during his adventurous travels, Bilbo Baggins kept longing for home. That is where his chief treasure lay. He eventually made it back there in one piece.

By God’s grace, may you and I do the same--and may your Treasure be waiting there to welcome you.

Beyond

Fair faces launched at least a thousand ships
And chained the heart of many-a warrior king;
This treasured fire braved wastes and walls and whips
To gain the sole possession of one ring.
How many hearts are welded to a dream
Of ever-after happiness and bliss,
To merely grasp instead handfuls of steam
As turtle-doves expire with-a serpent’s hiss?
Four-letter word, with such a checkered past:
Why do all youths fall victim to your flame,
When all can see how rarely it will last
And aging suitors hang their heads in shame?

I early came to know the lonesome curse--
A heart cut off from free, unfettered joy--
The lauded idyll of the poet’s verse,
Eluding every hopeful, heartsick boy.
My mind and soul cried from an empty well
Their call to mate with some ideal I’d lost
Somewhere between bright heaven and dark hell,
Between Passover’s pains and Pentecost.
For many passions throngs have dared to die
Rather than lose the loves for which they fought;
But who would seek a sinner sick as I,
Who only could by royal blood be bought?

Was I--O truly?--meant for love beyond
All passions those on earth might undertake?
Do best affections here, reflect the bond
Eternity itself will never break?
Beyond the smold’ring ash, beyond the death,
Beyond the wasting, wanting, weary earth...
Beyond the ever-after war for breath,
Is there, indeed, what all lost loves are worth?

MNA
2/15/15

Music as a Memory Tool

Recently I was challenged by one of my pastors to commit a passage of Scripture to memory. I have many fond memories of verses learned in childhood at Sunday school class and Bible clubs and Christian camps. And I’ve grown up understanding the importance of memorizing Scripture, hiding God’s word in my heart, “that I might not sin against” Him (Psalm 119:11).

It suddenly struck me as I considered the passage my pastor had assigned me, that I could use a familiar hymn tune as a mnemonic device (a memory-aid), if I could find a melody that closely followed the rhythm of the words of the Scripture in question. Some of the words might have to be combined with a single note in some cases, but who knew? I decided to give my idea a try.

The tune I landed on for my experiment was the famous Beethoven theme, “Ode to Joy,” often used for the hymn poem, “Joyful, Joyful, We Adore Thee.”

With this melody in your mind, try fitting in the following words from Titus 2:11-14 (ESV):

“For the grace of God has appeared,
Bringing salvation for all people,
Training us to renounce ungodliness
And worldly passions, and to live
Self-controlled, upright and godly lives
In the present age, waiting for
Our blessed hope, the appearing of the glory
Of our great God and Savior, Jesus Christ,
(repeat last four lines of the tune)
Who gave Himself for us to redeem us
From all lawlessness, and to purify
For Himself a people for His own
Possession who are zealous for good works”

What a great, encouraging passage! And after singing it over and over in my mind, writing it on a card and glancing at it to jog my 58-year-old brain, I could actually type it out word-for-word from memory! I did this about a month ago, now, and the passage is still fresh in my mind, partly because it is forever linked to that melody by good ol’ Ludwig von B.

Once I’d succeeded in that first experiment, I simply couldn’t resist trying it again with other passages. I went back to my pastor and reported my success, requesting that he choose another section from the Bible for me to commit to memory. Here is the one he suggested. It comes from Psalm 73:21-28, and I used the tune to the hymn, “The God of Abraham Praise.”

“When my heart was grieved,
And my spirit embittered,
I was senseless and ignorant,
I was a brute beast before You.
Yet I am always with You;
You hold me by my right hand.
You guide me with your counsel and afterward,
You will take me into glory.

Whom have I in heaven but You?
And earth has nothing I desire besides You.
My flesh and heart may fail, but You are the strength
Of my heart and my portion forever.
All who are far from You will perish;
You destroy all who’re unfaithful to You.
But as for me, it is good to be near God. I have made
The Sovereign Lord my refuge. (repeat last line of tune)
I will tell of all Your deeds.”

I know...it’s hard to fit in some of those words to the Abraham tune, but you have to divide up some of the quarter notes into eighth notes, such as in the second line of the second stanza:

“And earth-has no-thing I-de sire-be sides You”
(the dashes indicate where a quarter note has been replaced with 2 shorter notes)

Again, that passage is one well worth taking time to memorize! And I found that the choice of tune works well in jogging my memory when I want to recall those wise words of Asaph.

This musical memory technique became so rewarding, I stopped waiting for my pastor to make suggestions and started hunting for target passages on my own! Here is a great section from the New Testament book of Colossians that one of my pastors is beginning to preach on. I chose to memorize it to the tune of the hymn, “Blest Be the Tie that Binds.”

“Since then you have been raised with Christ,
Set your hearts on things above,
Where Christ is seated at the right hand of God.
Set your minds on things above,

Not on earthly things; for you died,
And your life is now hidden with Christ in God.
When Christ who is your life appears,
You also will appear with Him in glory.

Put to death, therefore, whate’er belongs
To your earthly nature: sexual immorality,
Impurity, lust, evil desires and greed,
Which is idolatry.
(I found that stanza especially challenging!)

Because of these, the wrath of God is coming.
You used to walk in these ways
In the life you once lived, but now you must rid
Yourselves of all such things as these:

Anger, rage, malice, slander and filthy language
From your lips. Do not lie to each other,
For you have put off the old self with its practices
And have put on the new self,

(Now, repeat lines 3 and 4)
Which is being renewed in knowledge in
The image of its Creator.”

Believe it or not, I’m typing all of these out from memory!! This might be just a quirky thing that works for odd-balls like me, but I thought I would share it with my readers, in the off chance that they might wish to give it a shot. After all, knowing God’s word has always been important for believers in Christ--and it promises to be all the more important in the years and generations ahead.

Why not try this technique for yourself, or come up with your own and share it with your friends? Having helpful passages of Scripture “at my fingertips” and singing these truths to myself has become a major source of joy and spiritual blessing for me, and I hope you will find it likewise.

Here’s one more passage I’ve worked on, from Psalm 51, to the tune of “What Child Is This?”

“Have mercy on me O God,
According to Your steadfast love;
According to Your abundant mercy,
Blot out my transgressions.
Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity,
And cleanse me from my sin,
For I know my transgressions and
My sin is ever before me.

Against You, You only, have I sinned
And done what is evil in Your sight,
So that You may be justified in your words
And blameless in Your judgment.
Behold, I was bro’t forth in iniquity
And in sin did my mother conceive me;
Behold, You delight in truth in the inward being,
And You teach me wisdom in the secret heart.

Purge me with hyssop and I shall be clean,
Wash me and I shall be whiter than snow.
Make me hear joy and gladness, make
The bones You have broken rejoice.
Hide Your face from my sin
And blot out all my iniquities;
Create in me a clean heart, O God,
And renew a right spirit within me.

 Cast me not away from Your presence and
Take not Your Holy Spirit from me;
Restore to me the joy of Your salvation and
Uphold me with a willing spirit.
Then I will teach transgressors Your ways,
And sinners will return to You.
Deliver me from bloodguiltiness, O God,
O God of my salvation. (repeat last line)
And my lips will sing aloud of Your righteousness.”

Newton's Hymn of Grace

Amazing grace--how sweet the sound!--that saved a wretch like me!
I once was lost, but now am found; was blind, but now I see.

John Newton wrote those words hundreds of years ago, at a time when British ships still carried African slaves to ports around the globe. Newton could look back on a life that used to be filled with sin and vice and wickedness. He himself was involved in the slave trade, and before that he used to laugh at and despise Christians and their gospel message.

But eventually, through several brushes with death, as well as the ministry of preaching and reading of literature, John Newton was converted. He became an ordained minister and a writer of hymns. He wrote his most famous hymn, “Amazing Grace,” in 1773 as an illustration for a New Years Day message. Today this hymn is known and sung around the world, even by secular pop singers. But sadly, many who sing these famous words fail to grasp their meaning.

As we examine this hymn, let’s consider what the Bible says makes the grace it speaks of so “amazing.” The first line tells us that the very words “amazing grace” have a “sweet” sound to the writer. Some of the sounds around us are sweet to our ears...others, not so sweet. Think of the melody of a songbird or a rippling brook...the comforting sound of a mother’s lullaby...the closing bell at the end of a long day at work or school. All of these sounds are sweet to us.

What makes the words “amazing grace” so sweet to a person’s ears is contained in the word “grace” itself, as well as the source of that grace, and also in its recipient. If we examine what grace is, from whom it comes, and to whom it is given, we will plainly see why it is so sweet to the listener, and what makes this grace so amazing.

The basic meaning of the word “grace” is some good thing that is given and received, not because it is merited or deserved, but by the good will of the one giving it. The simplest example of this is the giving of a present. If I gave you a present because I wanted you to give me one in return, that would not be grace. That gift would only be grace if I gave it simply out of a desire to bless you and do you good.

The “amazing grace” Newton writes about isn’t a common, everyday kind of present--it is a gift of immeasurable value! It is grace “that saved a wretch like me!” We read in Ephesians 2:8, “It is by grace you have been saved.”

From the very beginning chapters of Genesis, we see a mankind in need of saving. Adam and Eve, our first parents, received amazing grace from the hand of God when He created them and placed them in a beautiful paradise, the Garden of Eden. Everything in the garden was theirs to enjoy and feed upon, except one tree: the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. This was the one and only test God gave them to see if their love and obedience would remain faithful.

God warned them that eating of the forbidden tree would bring death, but they failed to heed God’s warning. The crafty serpent brought doubt, confusion and deception into the Garden. He caused Eve to question God’s grace and rebel against His authority. Then, Eve tempted Adam to do the same thing so that both of them were guilty of disobedience and deserving of death. But God gave them more amazing grace by not carrying out their death sentence immediately. He still loved the man and woman He’d created and had already planned to save them from the full penalty for their sin against Him.

Along with delayed physical death and the other curses brought by our first parents’ sin, God also gave us a gracious promise that one of Eve’s descendants would one day defeat the serpent and rescue mankind. This future Savior would succeed where Adam and Eve failed and would provide a perfect record of obedience for God’s people! Furthermore, He would die an atoning death for His people on the cross, bearing the weight of all their sin, including the wrath of God that all our sin deserved.

Of course, that promised Savior, born thousands of years later, was none other than Jesus Christ, the Friend of Sinners.

And how we sinners needed, and still need such a friend! The grace that saves sinners comes from Jesus Himself. In the Gospel of John chapter one, we read that Jesus the living Word was “the only begotten of the Father, full of grace and truth.” The grace of Jesus Christ--His free gift to all who will receive it--is the gift of Himself, given for our salvation. How amazing that the God of the universe would take pity on poor, wretched, blind, helpless sinners, and would take on Himself a human nature--actually become one of us! He did this so that He could save us from the penalty our sins deserved.

If I offered you a present, and you left this room without it, never took it and opened it, ignored it and forgot about it, that gift would never truly be yours, would it? Well, look at the present Jesus offered: He came here to earth and was born, lived, suffered, died, was buried, arose and ascended. And He now offers the gift of forgiveness and eternal salvation to all who will receive it. But, most people never accept this gracious gift...why not? Because it is received by faith.

The Book of Hebrews tells us that “faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.” To receive a gift by faith, a person must be convinced that the giver is really there and is able to give such a gift. Also, the gift being offered must be something that the receiver really hopes for, or desires. Most people don’t accept the fact that Jesus is offering them this saving gift, and besides, they have no desire to be saved from their sins. They laugh at the idea that God will one day make them pay the penalty for their sin in hell forever.

John chapter nine tells how Jesus gave physical sight to a man born blind. Think of it: never had this man known anything but darkness. He knew about shapes and colors, skies and stars and sunsets, only by listening to the descriptions of others. But one day Jesus took pity on him and performed a miracle by granting sight to this man.

Many of the Jewish leaders refused to believe that Jesus did this by the power of God; they insisted that Jesus was in league with the devil. But Jesus said that one of the reasons He’d come into the world was to make blind people see, and seeing people blind! We all know people who believe that they know everything, or seem to. When we try to correct them about something, they claim to know all about it already--there is nothing new they can be taught.

Some of the Jewish leaders were sure that they knew how to please God, and needed no new insight from a man like Jesus. They believed their spiritual eyes had 20/20 vision and that their record before God was just fine. Jesus told them that their guilt remained because they claimed to see without His help. So many people are like this; they are so convinced they can see clearly and God allows them to remain blind to His gift of grace.

Ephesians 2:8 goes on to say, “It is by grace you have been saved, through faith, and that not of yourselves; it is the gift of God.” In John Newton’s words, we are “wretches”...poor, helpless, miserable sinners...who are “lost” and need to be “found”... “blind” and need the ability to “see.” Is this how we normally see ourselves? Sinners, guilty and in danger of eternal torments, unable to save ourselves, in desperate need of being saved? Or do we think we are just fine the way we are, able to please a holy God on our own, not really in need of Jesus to save us?

It is only when I realize how sinful and blind and wretched I am that I will cry out to God for a Savior, and welcome His beloved Son when He offers Himself as a gift of grace for my salvation. Nowadays we are told about how advanced and intelligent and worthy of self-esteem we humans are. How all that old talk about judgment and brimstone is just outdated nonsense. But what does the Bible say?

Romans 6:23 reminds us that “the wages of sin is death.” Not just separation of my soul from my body, but eternal separation of soul and body from God forever in Hell. Jesus suffered this kind of awful separation from His Father when He hung on the cross for sinners--but only for those sinners who place their faith in Him alone for their salvation. The verse goes on to say, “but the gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord.”

Grace--God’s grace--saving grace for sinners. It is a free gift of forgiveness and eternal life, purchased by Christ’s suffering and death on the cross. It is amazing because it is offered freely to all who believe. Amazing because it comes from Jesus, who now sits enthroned at God’s right hand. Amazing because it is received by wretched sinners who recognize their need and bow to Christ by faith. Amazing because God Himself gives us the the spiritual “eyes” to see and desire and receive His gift.

Amazing grace--how sweet the sound!--that saved a wretch like me!
I once was lost, but now am found; was blind, but now I see.

Speak the Word

Do I need some shocking sign--
Carmel-fire from cloven skies
To consume my sacrifice?

Should I beg a moistened fleece
On the ground otherwise dry
Ere I broach the battlefield?

Must the Master still a storm
O’er the sea He trod upon
For my fear to be becalmed?

Is my “little faith” so dim,
It must watch a dead man wake
To at last be reassured?

Must the rocks gush out a stream,
Barren wombs produce a throng,
Lest my heart be petrified?

Once my Lord stepped back, amazed
At a bold centurion’s faith:
“Speak the word...I need not see.”

Speak--you have your servant’s ear;
Breathe your word, on sacred page.
Tell me what you’d have me do...

I’ll believe in what you say--
Words that filled the fruitless void,
Told the dark, “Let there be light!”


MNA 12-31-14

A new fantasy tale begins here...

Creatures of the Dawn

Cyril often thought about his past life down in the Mourning Vale, perhaps more often than was good for him. Still, everybody he knew had been born there, many of his friends and kin still dwelt there, and Cyril knew--partly from the voice of the Stones, partly from his own inner voice--that he’d always carry a haunting kind of love for Mourning Vale in his heart.

Especially during the molting season, when his scaly hide was sliding off him and more of his body was being covered with downy white feathers, Cyril pondered the sharp contrast between that old life in the Vale and his new one here on the peaks. Today, for instance, when he woke up under his high sheltering crag on Mount Clement, smelled the clean smell of the rain that had fallen during the night, ate his fill of the sweet moss that sprang up between the rocks, and quenched his thirst from the pool in the cleft just below--today, he reflected on how alone he often felt since he left Mourning Vale. How numerous and natural-feeling his kinships and friendships had been then...before the Neubith had come.

“Good morning, Cyril.” A deep, pleasant voice hailed him from a patch of mist just up the mountain. He looked up toward the voice and smiled. Out of the mist emerged his friend Charisse, her remaining scales glistening with moisture in the brightening dawn, her feathery wings fluttering delicately, shaking her free of the dew. She approached him on thick muscular legs ending in clawed feet that expertly picked their way along the rocky hillside.

“You look well this morning,” she told him as Cyril stretched and swallowed a final mouthful of moss. “Are you ready for our journey today?”

“I suppose so,” Cyril yawned thoughtfully. He humped his back and flexed his own claws so they clicked like centipedes against the ground. Opening his eyes after his yawn, he looked deeply, honestly, into Charisse’s eyes--uncommonly large eyes that were a piercing blue shot with gold.

“Hmm,” she murmured in the soft purr that always made him warm to her. “Someone has been deep in thought already this morning. Aren’t you going to ask me to account for myself? You haven’t noticed I’ve been away?”

“Of course,” Cyril said shaking his head with embarrassment. “I’m sorry, Charisse, of course I missed you and you, too, are looking very well, and yes, I’m so looking forward to our journey today. I’ve hardly thought about much else since we planned it!”

“Easy, easy, Friend Cyril, I was only teasing you. You’re a deep thinker and have no reason to apologize for that. It’s one of the many things I enjoy about you.” She grinned as she stood next to him and bumped her wide head against his playfully.

“I...I guess I was thinking again about...about...”

“...about your family down in the Vale?” she prompted.

“Uh-huh,” Cyril admitted. “Last time I visited them, my sister and my father barely would speak to me. Even Mother became impatient when I urged them to begin listening to the Stones up the hillside.”

“Yes,” Charisse nodded sympathetically. “Yes, my family acted the same for many years before Neubith came to them.”

Cyril became animated and began moving about nervously. “Sometimes, Charisse, I just feel so helpless. I just miss them so much I could tear off these wings and go back there and forget that I ever lived on the peaks. Do you think I’m terrible? That I’m crazy? I frighten myself when I have thoughts like that.”

His friend returned to his side and placed a paw lovingly on his. “When I have those feelings, Cyril, I try hard to remember the message of the Stones I heard before I left the Mourning Vale: it said that Neubith was unbelievably wonderful--sweeter and more fulfilling than any dream of the most fanciful Vale-dweller. Yet the Stones also promised bitter memories and dangerous adventures before the final Shaking takes place. Before Daystar rises.”

“I know, I know. And I remember the message, too--at least, while I’m doing my echoing at the canyon. At those times, Daystar just seems so much closer...so much more real.” Cyril sighed a deep, deep sigh in his barrel-like chest and squinted at her comically. “So, you don’t think I’m awfully bonkers or anything?”

She poked him and nearly made him topple as she leapt away. “As bonkers as they come! Daft as a loonie-bird! Come on, slug-a-bed! We have a long way to go today and the sun is shining!” She was in the air with enormous wings unfurled, catching the mountain updrafts and smiling like a rainbow. He craned his neck, following her takeoff with his heart skipping a beat and his mind suddenly casting off its cares.

Cyril shook himself and forsook the crags with a mighty bound, his own wings whipping outward and down, propelling him into the wind. The currents were fetched up into his wings like billowing sails and he swept into a graceful arc in pursuit of his companion, now nearly a league away. Cold bracing air flattened his feathers and scales as it slid past him and tickled his folded limbs with icy joy. Freedom seemed to reach down from above and gather him into an awesome, exhilarating embrace.

Clouds sped up to meet him and just as quickly were left in his wake. The sun blazed on the rim of the world and made the peaks flame with dazzling white. He and Charisse were soaring high above the mountains of their home, leaving doubt and regret behind in the crevices below, now mere etchings in a fabulous, far-off landscape.

They were alone up here, yet together. They were born creatures of the Mourning Vale...but up here, as no place else, they were creatures of Neubith...creatures of Daystar...creatures of the Dawn!

* * *

“I must be crazy...”

Douron groaned and cracked his neck-bones as he began his daily trudge homeward. This shift had been pretty bad. Maybe the worst, he thought. Felt like it anyway.

Working for the Bosses...working in the pits...working long, dark shifts by torchlight...working for less than he was worth...working to put grub on the slab for a thankless family...working.

Some days he just couldn’t think why he put up with this life at all. He must be crazy.

Well, at least there was his secret stash. In a wood west of town, in a hole in the ground, in a box in the hole, Douron had a secret stash of shiny stuff that nobody knew about. Nobody. Not the Bosses, not his friends, not his wife, nor daughter, nor odd-ball son. Not nobody.

Someday, Douron thought. Someday, I’ll have enough shiny stuff saved up, to up and leave this wretched valley and start a new life someplace else on my own! Yeah...someday.

He coughed up some dusty stuff from this windpipe and spat it out by the roadside, beginning to feel his joints loosen up some after the long shift. The dust was the worst, he brooded. It gets everywhere. Sometimes I get so sick of it I could go crazy. He wallowed into the sluggish stream beside the road as it bent off toward the town. Rolling around in the gloomy water got most of the darned dust out from between his scales at least. He ducked his head in the stream and came up spluttering, then splashed and shook his way back to the path.

Crummy dust! he muttered. Why do I put up with work like this? It’s a flippin’ wonder I haven’t keeled over and died of some crummy disease, working like I do. I must be crazy.

He trudged into town as the twilight was lifting and a shadowy light began filtering in between the rough-hewn dwellings of mud and stone. His own small house was overshadowed by some taller buildings and there were still candles glowing in the window facing the road. Naggeril was out on the stoop beating a rug with the branch of a sticker-bush. She raised the branch in  Douron’s direction when she saw him, giving him a half-hearted wave of welcome.

“You almost done beating that thing?” he asked grumpily. “Cuz I just washed in the river and don’t feel like getting all dusty again...Darling,” he added judiciously in answer to her glower, a mixture of hurt and annoyance.

“Just trying my best to give you a decent, clean place to come home to...Sweetie,” she answered, sweeping the dust cloud out of the range of the doorway with her beater. “Go on in and eat something before you go to bed.”

“Rrrrr. Yeah. Thanks, Naggie.” He lumbered through the door, raising his tail up enough to avoid any dust still clinging to the stoop. At least, he mused as he sniffed the aroma coming from the pot near the fire, I’m married to a fair cook. Reaching up with a tentative claw, Douron tipped the pot and deposited some stew into his deep stone dish. Then he slid it across the floor into a corner and lowered his head into to bowl to eat.

Between mouthfuls he inquired, “Cyndi up yet?”

“Early practice today,” Naggeril sang out from the next room. “She was up and out a half-hour ago.” Their daughter was a sludge-skater. This was a new art-form that was catching on with youngsters in the valley. Cyndi had her heart set on getting ‘discovered.’ Douron thought it was a silly waste of time, but at least it got her out of the house.

“Have you watched her doing this sludge-skating thing? I can’t imagine she’s really built for it.” He reached for another bowl and began lapping up the liquid it contained.

“Naw, I haven’t seen her yet, but Mawgeril next door has and she says our Cyndi is doing okay.”

“Well,” he growled, “don’t you let her waste so much time with that that she slacks off her book learning. If she winds up a dummy like some kids these days, we’ll never be rid of her.”

“You just want her out of the house so you don’t have to work as much!” His wife had emerged from the bedroom and was facing him with ‘that look’ that he was not so fond of.

“I just want her to amount to something in this wretched world, Naggs! Oh, forget it. Let’s not fight, I’m too tired. I’m off to dreamland.” He plodded over to the water trough with his dishes and rinsed them off. Then he gave his wife a half-hearted kiss and crossed to the bedroom.

(to be continued...?)

(c) 2014 Mark N. Aikins

Death Wish

A deep desire for death I would embrace--
A separation, keen to mortify
Pathetic forays to obscure the face
Whose very speech created time and space--
Brought into being beings such as I.

I'd glory in magnificence above,
And cast aside the lures and baits below
That so adulterate eternal love,
That tempt to block each Spirit-bidden move
And drown His voice with flesh's dark echo.

My lusts cry out like mewling cats for meat;
They'd feed my ego fat with fawning fare,
While holiness languishes in the heat
Of prideful passions poised to rob and cheat
My Master of the fruits He'd have me bear.

How may self-glory, then, be crucified--
Entombed forever, never to arise?
Can mere devotion suffocate such pride,
All fleshly archers vainly having tried
To cleanse the flocks of folly from my skies?

Alas, no pow'r of mine can drive the stake
Into the vampire-heart that haunts my will;
It stalks me with a thirst no blood can slake,
Save His who left remission in His wake...
One Crucified, raised up, and living still!

Beholding Christ, who stooped to serve the least,
Who hid His godhead gladly in the dust,
Whose ardor for His Father never ceased,
Who welcomes thieves and paupers to His feast...
I'll glory that in Him my soul can trust.


MNA 12-22-14