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it gives understanding to the simple. ~Ps.119:130
Do your best to present yourself to God as one approved,
a worker who does not need to be ashamed
and who correctly handles the word of truth. ~2 Timothy 2:15
And ... my notes transcribed as follows:
unfolds
meditates
and savors ... the word
unfold - open, uncover, discover ... "gives light" understanding to the simple (go to the scripture expecting to be taught something - always something more
break it open, understand it, before one can live it
look, consider, discern ----> requires diligence
God is the source of the Gospel, the author ... every verse must be able to bear the weigth of the entire Bible. There is only one meaning, one truth (not what it means to me) ---> As one perfect diamond cut and polished to be multi-faceted, the word may shine different lights in different context.
He's saying it all "fits" together and means something as a book ... he said this Book is the bearing of God's soul ... same God, same story through out. I can see how I bear my soul here in this little place where I write, and because I know my story completely, intimately, it all makes perfect sense to me how these last few years of my musings "fit" together. Even this little notebook can be looked at as little stories, but in fact, what I am doing is attempting to tell my story to myself and especially to my children for later ... not to be morbid, but the women in my family usually don't make it to sixty ... so I endeavor to be transparent in this little search for True North ... Could it be that the God of the Universe gave us a book whereby he hoped to expose his heart. I think so ... I've thought that for a long time. My husband and I t-boned a car when I was several months pregnant with our first born child ... we had previously been in a car accident which resulted in a miscarriage a few years earlier ... the most obvious difference in the two wrecks was that in the second one we were wearing seat belts ... it's kind of a funny story because the guys we ran in to were drunk and pulled through our lane in to the drive way of a whorehouse, it was the only structure out basically in the middle of nothing else. When I got out of the car ... eight months huge and bleeding, the ladies of ill-repute poured out of the house to my aid ... long story short, the pregnancy was successful and I wondered had we not been mandated to wear our seat belts, because it became law in Texas that very day, would we have died leaving our baby behind with no way to know us or how very much we loved him and hoped to spend time with him ... when I thought that, I immediately thought that's exactly what happened to God ... he wanted time with us, but events separated Him from His children ... and so ... He wrote a book explaining the story and wooing us to hope for a time after this time when we might find a way ( via His only begotten son, Jesus) back to nearness to Him. Anyway ... that's when the Bible started seeming like more then just a bunch of little stories ... good words of "advice" ... somewhat antiquated perhaps ... that's when I started thinking of The Bible as a message to mankind from the Creator. It seemed like I would want to avail myself of that very special message. Back to the sermon notes ...
meditate - has the context of "in-depth, prolonged reflection in the presence of God". It takes a while to "digest" all the nutrients (and then he talked about the bovine digestive system of chew and re-chew).
Next he gave the illustration of the "locks" that make up the Panama canal. As the vessel transitions from one side to the other there is progression through the locks. "Open up your entire being to allow penetration to every fiber.", Pastor encouraged, listing examples of "spiritual locks" as possibly ... blindness, hard-heartedness, hidden aspects of our soul ... "Let your longings be open to God ... open your heart to the word of God."
savor - God intends for the Bible to be read, studied, understood on a personal level ... it is intended as an intimate missive. then he gave a cooking analogy ... baste/ soak/ marinade ... and encouraged the listeners to chose to marinade themselves in the words of God. Next he described a movie ... The Soldier and the Rose ... or maybe it was just a story ... here is what I have found of it:
THE SOLDIER
Author Unknown
John Blanchard stood up from the bench, straightened his Army uniform, and studied the crowd of people making their way through Grand Central Station. He looked for the girl whose heart he knew, but whose face he didn't, the girl with the rose. His interest in her had begun thirteen months before in a Florida library. Taking a book off the shelf he found himself intrigued, not with the words of the book, but with the notes penciled in the margin. The soft handwriting reflected a thoughtful soul and insightful mind.
In front of the book, he discovered the previous owner's name, Miss Hollis Maynell. With time and effort he located her address. She lived in New York City. He wrote her a letter introducing himself and inviting her to correspond. The next day he was shipped overseas for service in World War II
During the next year and one-month the two grew to know each other through the mail. Each letter was a seed falling on a fertile heart. A Romance was budding. Blanchard requested a photograph, but she refused. She felt that if he really cared, it wouldn't matter what she looked like.
When the day finally came for him to return from Europe, they scheduled their first meeting - 7:00 pm at Grand Central Station in New York.
"You'll recognize me, " she wrote, "by the red rose I'll be wearing on my lapel." So at 7:00 he was in the station looking for a girl whose heart he loved, but whose face he'd never seen.
I'll let Mr. Blanchard tell you what happened: A young women was coming toward me, her figure long and slim. Her blonde hair lay back in curls from her delicate ears; her eyes were blue as flowers. Her lips and chin had a gentle firmness, and in her pale green suit she was like springtime come alive. I started toward her, entirely forgetting to notice that she was not wearing a rose. As I moved, a small, provocative smile curved her lips. "Going my way, sailor?" she murmured. Almost uncontrollably I made one step closer to her, and then I saw Hollis Maynell. She was standing almost directly behind the girl. A woman well past 40, she had graying hair tucked under a worn hat. She was more than plump, her thick-ankled feet thrust into low-heeled shoes. The girl in the green suit was walking quickly away. I felt as though I split in two, so keen was my desire to follow her, and yet so deep was my longing for the women whose spirit had truly companioned me and upheld my own
And there she stood. Her pale, plump face was gentle and sensible; her gray eyes had a warm and kindly twinkle. I did not hesitate. My fingers gripped the small worn blue leather copy of the book that was something precious, something perhaps even better than love, a friendship for which I had been and must ever be grateful.
I squared my shoulders and saluted and held out the book to the women, even though while I spoke I felt choked by the bitterness of my disappointment. "I'm Lieutenant John Blanchard, and you must be Miss Maynell. I am so glad you could meet me; may I take you to dinner?"
The women's face broadened into a tolerant smile. "I don't know what this is about, son," she answered, "but the young lady in the green suit who just went by, she begged me to wear this rose on my coat. And she said if you were to ask me out to dinner, I should go and tell you that she is waiting for you in the big restaurant across the street. She said it was some kind of test!"
It's not difficult to understand and admire Miss Maynell's wisdom. The true nature of a heart is seen in its response to the unattractive. "Tell me whom you love," Houssaye wrote, "And I will tell you who you are."
Author Unknown
John Blanchard stood up from the bench, straightened his Army uniform, and studied the crowd of people making their way through Grand Central Station. He looked for the girl whose heart he knew, but whose face he didn't, the girl with the rose. His interest in her had begun thirteen months before in a Florida library. Taking a book off the shelf he found himself intrigued, not with the words of the book, but with the notes penciled in the margin. The soft handwriting reflected a thoughtful soul and insightful mind.
In front of the book, he discovered the previous owner's name, Miss Hollis Maynell. With time and effort he located her address. She lived in New York City. He wrote her a letter introducing himself and inviting her to correspond. The next day he was shipped overseas for service in World War II
During the next year and one-month the two grew to know each other through the mail. Each letter was a seed falling on a fertile heart. A Romance was budding. Blanchard requested a photograph, but she refused. She felt that if he really cared, it wouldn't matter what she looked like.
When the day finally came for him to return from Europe, they scheduled their first meeting - 7:00 pm at Grand Central Station in New York.
"You'll recognize me, " she wrote, "by the red rose I'll be wearing on my lapel." So at 7:00 he was in the station looking for a girl whose heart he loved, but whose face he'd never seen.
I'll let Mr. Blanchard tell you what happened: A young women was coming toward me, her figure long and slim. Her blonde hair lay back in curls from her delicate ears; her eyes were blue as flowers. Her lips and chin had a gentle firmness, and in her pale green suit she was like springtime come alive. I started toward her, entirely forgetting to notice that she was not wearing a rose. As I moved, a small, provocative smile curved her lips. "Going my way, sailor?" she murmured. Almost uncontrollably I made one step closer to her, and then I saw Hollis Maynell. She was standing almost directly behind the girl. A woman well past 40, she had graying hair tucked under a worn hat. She was more than plump, her thick-ankled feet thrust into low-heeled shoes. The girl in the green suit was walking quickly away. I felt as though I split in two, so keen was my desire to follow her, and yet so deep was my longing for the women whose spirit had truly companioned me and upheld my own
And there she stood. Her pale, plump face was gentle and sensible; her gray eyes had a warm and kindly twinkle. I did not hesitate. My fingers gripped the small worn blue leather copy of the book that was something precious, something perhaps even better than love, a friendship for which I had been and must ever be grateful.
I squared my shoulders and saluted and held out the book to the women, even though while I spoke I felt choked by the bitterness of my disappointment. "I'm Lieutenant John Blanchard, and you must be Miss Maynell. I am so glad you could meet me; may I take you to dinner?"
The women's face broadened into a tolerant smile. "I don't know what this is about, son," she answered, "but the young lady in the green suit who just went by, she begged me to wear this rose on my coat. And she said if you were to ask me out to dinner, I should go and tell you that she is waiting for you in the big restaurant across the street. She said it was some kind of test!"
It's not difficult to understand and admire Miss Maynell's wisdom. The true nature of a heart is seen in its response to the unattractive. "Tell me whom you love," Houssaye wrote, "And I will tell you who you are."
The Pastor's closing words ... "God bears His soul in the words in his book - there by He draws me to Himself".
I understand that. I totally get it.
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