Showing posts with label Fanny Crosby. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Fanny Crosby. Show all posts

Thursday, August 29, 2024

From My Nature Journal: Beulah Land

Strange name for a blogpost? Perhaps. Beulah is one of those unique Bible names, used just once to make a particular point; I happened to come across it again a couple days ago, and it struck me in a way it had not before. Stick with me for a bit.

Somewhere in my early childhood, my family knew an older woman by that name, though I cannot recall anything further than that. Thus my oldest memories are that it was a woman’s name. Then while working the mailroom in our denominational publishing house during grad school, I found it was the name of one of our churches in California. Strange name for a church, I thought, a woman’s name. Must have been quite a lady. Just kidding, but I obviously did not recall the Bible verse or know the meaning at the time. 

A post-exilic text from the Prophet Isaiah, it was written several hundred years prior to the birth of Jesus Christ, intended to give encouragement to the long-oppressed and exiled people of Israel, and it reads thus: “You shall no more be called Forsaken, and your land shall no more be termed Desolate. But you shall be called My Delight Is In Her, and your land Beulah (that is, married) [Isaiah 62:4].”

A land called Married. Hmmm…

The term ‘Beulah Land’ was used by John Bunyan in Pilgrim’s Progress. It referred to a city of incredible peace found as one approached the end of the Christian journey, near the border of the Celestial City. From Beulah Land, one could begin to sense the beauties and character of Heaven itself. The term and its heaven themes were also picked up by several gospel hymn writers of the 19th Century, including Fanny Crosby (see hymn lyrics here). 

But a land called Married. Just think on that a bit…

Now, of course, much political dispute and bitter conflict takes place over ‘possession’ of that (hardly) peaceful Beulah land this past century, the land of Israel. Whose land is it? Who was there first? Has God metaphysically granted it as a physical possession? To whom? Who gains by right of conquest? Which conquest? Can two hotheaded cultures possibly share it, especially when some subcultures within are bent on the utter destruction of the other? What would need to happen for that sharing, or at least coexisting, to take place? It is perhaps the worst conundrum on the face of the planet, and often seems an intractable dilemma. Perhaps it is because both groups feel married to the land. And I don’t think that is how the text is to be understood anyway.

But stay there for a moment in a different way. What is marriage after all? And this is where my mind has gone these last couple of days since running across the Biblical text again. A different nuance of the ‘married to the land’ concept keeps occurring to me, not one of possessiveness or control, but one of sacrifice, perhaps even one that could help us all become better stewards of God’s creation.

Gail and I just celebrated our 48th anniversary this month. We learned long ago that some of the keys to a healthy marriage – with the most important being welcoming God at the center of our relationship – are to build each other up, to affirm each other and cherish one another, committing ourselves every single day to honor and bless the other rather than to take advantage of or exploit, certainly not to hurt. A marriage partner is not to be used (let alone abused) for one’s sole advantage.

What if our relationship to the land was similar? What if we saw ourselves as married to the land in this way? What if we also then saw land as not simply to be used (and certainly not abused), not to be exploited, but rather tenderly cared for, caressed, loved, honored? Again, what if our relationship to the land was not about possession but sacrifice? Like a very REAL relationship? What could be different? And of course as I muse on this, I think about the two little acres Gail and I are blessed to ‘own’ on this terrestrial orb (see Psalm 24:1), an acre plus in the northwoods of Michigan’s Upper Peninsula and another on Whidbey Island in Washington. Not a day goes by that we don’t feel gratitude for these small parcels. We love them. We are intimate with them. We know every nook and cranny, every contour, every plant and animal (OK, at least the majority), practically every single tree or rotting log on them. And we would never want them to be anything other than what they are, a simple and natural place for an abode. Far be it from us to hurt them. And it is a true truth that love is always the first step to fully caring for something, caring for it in a way that IT needs, not that WE need (though I am glad that what our two acres need and what we need are not in conflict with each other). 

This is vastly closer to an indigenous philosophy of the land than is the typical possession/consumption/exploitation model to which most of the world has become accustomed (which is not only Western, by the way). It seems that indigenous persons the world over held (and in some places, still hold) to a philosophy of a literal relationship with the land, going so far as to see the land and everything upon it as a relative. I like that very much.

Come to find out that the church named Beulah was adjacent to some of the richest and most fertile farmland of California’s amazing Central Valley, which makes me wonder if its founders had a line on this ‘married to the land’ idea long ago. What beauty could occur (and what healing might transpire) if we loved the land as if we were married to it? 

~~ RGM, August 20, 2024


Monday, March 13, 2017

POTM*: Near the Cross

(*Photos of the Month)

Two years ago late in Lent, while we were serving a wonderful church in southern New Mexico, Gail and I became aware of a lovely and lively little woodpecker pair seeming to take more than a casual interest in a large cross in the church’s landscaping. Within a couple days, believe it or not, we realized that they had chosen the cross in which to build their nest. Note: not on which to build their nest, mind you, but in which, adding a whole new meaning to the concept of finding new birth and life within the cross of Jesus Christ! Woodpeckers are cavity nesters, and there, right smack in the middle of the vertical beam and just up from the crossbeam, they had begun their hammering, chipping demolition.

Over the days that followed we kept as close track as we could while being careful not to drive them off with our curiosity. By Easter Sunday the hole was about an inch deep, but the little duo (he with a red cap, she without) really got into it once they went all out. A few days into Eastertide it was five inches deep. (OK, OK, I like things like this, and in their absence I’d check periodically with a ruler!) But then the cavity began heading downward, and soon after, when their presence became constant, I lost the ability to measure.

We researched them and found them to be Ladderback Woodpeckers. Typically these woodies nest in cactus, but this pair seemed to have a different plan that year. And yes, within several weeks time, they fledged several chicks. We even had some fun with the folks at the church and had a naming contest, though I cannot remember the winning entry.

Now, the beams from which the cross was made were solid, not hollow. The cross was sturdily built, and completely painted without so much as a blemish to get the creatures thinking. In other words, this spot was chosen — chosen over cactus, over hollow trees, over snags with holes already started, chosen over countless other available options. Chosen. In the cross! We all should be so smart as to make such a choice.

Which has gotten me to thinking... First, I wonder if the pair or its offspring have returned to the nest in subsequent years. Perhaps we’ll hear from one of our Las Cruces friends to let us know. But the other thing I get to wondering about is this whole idea of staying close to the cross of Christ. In 1869, Fanny Crosby, that prolific, blind, gospel hymn writer, penned a poem that has become one of her most beloved songs, “Jesus Keep Me Near the Cross.” Here it is, and if you need a reminder of the tune, you can hit this YouTube recording while you read:

Jesus, keep me near the cross. There, a precious fountain --
Free to all, a healing stream -- flows from Calvary’s mountain.

In the cross, in the cross, be my glory ever,
‘Til my raptured soul shall find rest beyond the river.

Near the cross! A trembling soul, love and mercy found me.
There the Bright and Morning Star shed His beams around me.

Near the cross! O Lamb of God, bring its scenes before me.
Help me walk from day to day with its shadow o’er me.

Near the cross! I’ll watch and wait, hoping, trusting ever,
‘Til I reach the golden strand just beyond the river.

In the cross, in the cross, be my glory ever,
‘Til my raptured soul shall find rest beyond the river.

This Lent, like a couple of my former avian friends, I am finding my comfort near the cross of Jesus. Join me?

~~ RGM, March 12, 2017