Tongues of Fire

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“Look at ships too: Though they are so large and driven by harsh winds, they are steered by a tiny rudder wherever the pilot’s inclination directs. So too the tongue is a small part of the body, yet it has great pretensions. Think how small a flame sets a huge forest ablaze. And the tongue is a fire! The tongue represents the world of wrongdoing among the parts of our bodies. It pollutes the entire body and sets fire to the course of human existence – and is set on fire by hell. For every kind of animal, bird, reptile, and sea creature is subdued and has been subdued by humankind. But no human being can subdue the tongue; it is a restless evil, full of deadly poison. With it we bless the Lord and Father, and with it we curse people made in God’s image.” James 3:4-9 NET Tongues of Fire Volcanic words erupt — Angry grief spews ash and flame — Torrents of molten stone Burst forth, burning and destroying Loyalty and loveliness. Swaths of thriving trust Lie smothered, entombed beneath The mountain’s liquid heart. Ash clouds obscure sky and Light in sites far-flung from Caldera’s blaze. Lava cools. Earth’s trembling calms, But oh— The destruction that endures As seared, scarred, scorched, and buried lives Mend harm done, Restore the ravaged, Rebuild the razed. Eruption flares and quiets; Devastation wrought remains. Lava cools faster than burns heal. O true and living Word, Forgive my lava words, Words which would burn and destroy. Cleanse and heal the anger, fear, and bitterness from which they come. Cleanse and heal the wounds of others’ searing words in my heart. Fill my mouth instead with words which sustain the weary, Hearten the discouraged, Give good news to the suffering, Offer grace to the burdened and shamed, Lighten the darkness, Speak truth with love, And teach Your words of life accurately. When the true, kind, and necessary words must wound to heal, Make them also loving, tender, and gentle, Binding up the pain with comfort and blessing. Fill my heart at all times with Your love and goodness, That the words which overflow may revive and strengthen the hearers To love and follow Christ in the power of the Spirit. “May my words and my thoughts be acceptable in your sight, O Lord, my sheltering rock and my redeemer.” Psalms 19:14 NET Amen. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit crumbsfromhistable.substack.com [https://crumbsfromhistable.substack.com?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_1]

A Prayer for the Loss of a Beloved Pet

N.B.: Moose Tracks is healthy at this writing. Multiple friends have recently lost dear pets. This post is for y’all. A Prayer Father of life, Creator of all creatures great and small: Thank You for the good gift of our heart animals, the creature companions who help us better understand Your love. You know the tally of each sparrow’s days and the quota of tail wags, walks, belly rubs, and purrs for each dog and cat we love. You know how many skins each reptile sheds, how many canters around each horse’s paddock, how many gambols of each goat, how many bubbles from each fish. You also know how big is the hole left when our beloved pet’s days come to an end. It hurts, and the memories of those final moments can feel stronger than all the good that came before. Pour in comfort that overflows the cavern of grief. Help us to look to You in our sadness, for every good thing in our precious animals is an arrow pointing to You. Keep our hearts open to love, despite this intense reminder that love means pain too. Lord, we wait earnestly for the restoration of all things, when You will wipe away every tear and death will be no more. There all mourning will be comforted; there all sorrow and sighing will flee. Nothing will be lacking for our joy, and everything will be provided for our joy. God of lilies and sparrows, look with tender mercy on our grief, and send plentiful reminders that You are with us in the middle of it and treasure us infinitely more than we love our creature companions. In Jesus’ name, we lift our grief and gratitude. Amen. The Electing Love of God and the Ebony Dog Dogs pick their people, or so they say. Once upon a time, A black super-dachshund named Rex, Left at a shelter so long the volunteers feared it was permanent, Chose me to be his Person. Before I had done anything for him, good or bad, Before I changed his name to Ebony, With the inscrutability of grace, He picked me. To the Ebony Dog [https://www.crumbsfromhistable.com/2018/06/12-things-you-may-not-know-about-ebony.html], I was never too much, Even when I was. He drew all the closer to my tears, Kissing them away from my face. He wagged his tail with my laughter. He nestled against my leg or belly In my hours upon hours of physical therapy exercises. He never bored of my company, Not even with months on the sofa And years mostly in the house. He made the love and companionship of God Tangible to me in the funerals, The heartbreak, The five surgeries in five years, The anxieties, The upheavals Of his decade as the canine of the couch. He loved the people I loved, But only because I loved them. His favorite place to be was at my side. No matter what. To the Ebony Dog, I was never too little, Even when I was. He consented to Amore walking him without me, But he sulked all the way to the turn toward home And strained at the leash the rest of the way. Even in those final days When he collapsed in the living room Before my shocked and stricken eyes, And I couldn’t lift him off the floor where he'd fallen, Into the car, to drive him to the vet, As I rocked myself and wept, Waiting for help to come to help us both, He tried to wag his tail when I reached down to stroke his ears Or tried without success to find the place of pain. I couldn’t help my most constant companion, My de facto emotional support dog, In his time of greatest need, But there he was, telling me It would be all right. That last morning in the vet’s office, My weakened, struggling dog, Who would normally be trembling with anxiety And hiding under a chair, Resisted us, tried to jump off the table And get away from the hands trying to help him, To ease his suffering. I told my mother afterward, And her response was instant: “He didn’t want to leave you.” “You think he knew that was what was happening?” “Yes. He was a very perceptive dog. He never did like being separated from you.” His constant, lavish, undeserved, undeterred affection, With the inscrutability of grace, Chose me To be his Person. It was one of the greatest earthly gifts I’ve known in seven weeks of years of life. In his love I read a parable of The unconditional, electing love of God. To Him I am never too much (Because He is always bigger), Never too little (Because He is always enough), Always accepted and acceptable in the Beloved, Chosen and blameless in His eyes. His affection is constant, unfailing, Not bound by dog years or pages on a calendar, Not excluded by quarantine or locked doors. Though the Ebony Dog has left me, The God he pointed to never will. He stopped at nothing to be with me— Becoming human flesh, Giving His only Son, Showing me my sin and His salvation, Birthing faith in my heart— To unite me to Himself forever. Who, indeed, shall separate me from Him? This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit crumbsfromhistable.substack.com [https://crumbsfromhistable.substack.com?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_1]

1. juni 202610 min

Tongues of Fire

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