Thinking Big Thoughts

When my 7-year-old grandson captured my Queen in five chess moves, I admitted again that I am not a strategist. Or a manager. Or a calculator of wins and losses.

Soon after that match, while cleaning my office and clearing out a ton of stuff that no longer serves my purposes, I came across notes from a chapel message by Dr. Larry Crabb [1], notes taken while I was in seminary.

Chess Players vs. Poets

Comparing chess players and poets, Dr. Crabb argued that chess players maneuver and manipulate in ways that make God subject to their moves. Poets hear the music of heaven, step onto the dance floor to enjoy themselves, others, and God.

Dr. Crabb prefaced his message to convey his sober mood that morning, addressing a current difficult question.

“How do I keep going beneath a game face when I feel empty, alone, and deeply discouraged?” he said.

Within his own thoughts at 2:00 a.m., he admitted times he cannot sleep while wrestling with questions.

“People wear their game face,” he said, “to conceal the hurts, the unanswered questions about life, and at the same time attempt to distract themselves with any number of strategies, including social media, social climbing, and social pretense.”

Pretense is exhausting.

“The most exhausting thing in life is being insincere.”

anne morrow Lindbergh, gift from the sea

Late in my reading life, I have discovered poetry. In particular, Mary Oliver’s Devotions has met me in a season of life when I can appreciate her amazing observations from nature and how these wonders elevated her thoughts about God.

I WAKE CLOSE TO MORNING

Why do people keep asking to see 
            God's identity papers
when the darkness opening into morning
            is more than enough?
Certainly any god might turn away in disgust.
Think of Sheba approaching 
            the kingdom of Solomon. 
Do you think she had to ask, 
            "Is this the place?"



WHISTLING SWANS

Do you bow your head when you pray or do you look
up into that blue space?
Take your choice, prayers fly from all directions.
And don't worry about what language you use, 
God no doubt understands them all. 
Even when the swans are flying north and making
such a ruckus of noise, God is surely listening
and understanding. 
Rumi said, There is no proof of the soul. 
But isn't the return of spring and how it 
springs up in our hearts a pretty good hint?
Yes, I know, God's silence never breaks, but is 
that really a problem?
There are thousands of voices, after all.
And furthermore, don't you imagine (I just suggest it)
that the swans know about as much as we do about 
the whole business?
So listen to them and watch them, singing as they fly. 
Take from it what you can.

“Take from it what you can.”

When you read poetry, read it slowly. It’s written to be read aloud.

I started reading this book last September, devotionally, and as of June 10, I have read only 201 pages of 442 pages. I flag pages. I make notes in the margin to remind myself what her words make me think. And feel.

Reading her poetry reminds me of my favorite line from the movie Shakespeare in Love.

“I will have poetry in my life!”

shakespeare in Love

I want to create rather than calculate. I want to enjoy the dance.

While playing chess with my grandson, I will also urge him to think BIG thoughts of the God who created us all.

[1] Dr. Larry Crabb, https://www.christianitytoday.com/news/2021/march/died-larry-crabb-christian-counseling-spiritual-direction.html