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Messiah – Part 1, Scene i: Isaiah’s Prophecy of Salvation

Part 1, Scene i, no. 4 Chorus: Isaiah 40:5

“And the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together, for the mouth of the Lord hath spoken it.”

This is the first chorus we hear in Messiah. One of the hallmarks of English oratorio is the use of chorus as a significant role in the story. Handel gives the chorus music that is as interesting and complex to sing as he gives to the soloists.

“And the glory of the Lord” introduces the thematic material in the strings senza ripieno. In baroque orchestral music of a certain genre, there were two groups within the orchestra – a small group of instruments drawn from within the orchestra, and the tutti or ripieno which was the full orchestra. Pitting these two groups against each other provided contrast. Senza ripieno means to use just the smaller group from within which creates a delicacy. When the score is marked tutti, everyone joins in which gives importance and weight to the musical motives and the text. The first we hear tutti in “And the glory of the Lord” is when the full chorus makes that very statement. Most modern orchestral conductors choose to ignore this marking and have the whole orchestra play, just more lightly, and that is what we hear in this recording.

Handel employs three standard baroque techniques in this piece. The first is the use of ritornello form. I mentioned this briefly when discussing “Ev’ry valley” but it bears more in depth explanation. The most commonly used form in baroque orchestral music, the ritornello gives an initial statement of the thematic material, and then has a “little return” periodically throughout the movement, frequently in a different key and rarely in its entirety. This technique creates a sense of familiarity – we sit up and think “I’ve heard this before!”

The second technique is the use of the hemiola. As an aside, this is one of those words that is really fun to say – one of my favorite musical terms. A hemiola occurs when we are in a triple meter and suddenly it feels like we shift to a duple meter. In other words we go from counting 1-2-3-1-2-3 to counting 1-2-3-1-2-3. It’s a sort of large scale syncopation.

One final technique that should be explained to fully understand this piece is the use of points of imitation. A holdover from the Renaissance, late Baroque composers used this technique when they wanted to emphasize a text or musical motive. It begins with one voice stating the motive, and then is “imitated” by the other voices starting on different pitches.

We hear Handel use all three of these techniques in “And the glory of the Lord.” He begins with a statement of the thematic material creating the ritornello and ends that material with a hemiola.

When the altos enter they give us the first motive that Handel will use as a point of imitation, followed by the whole chorus (and tutti orchestra for the first time) singing together the initial statement of the text. The tenors then get a second motive that will be used imitatively. These two motives then move throughout the chorus until they all come together to proclaim the text ending with a hemiola. We then get our first ritornello presented in the dominant key – we know this because we can see all manner of accidentals which take us away from the key of A major to its dominant of E major.

We now have a second section of musical material presented. A new motive is again delivered by the altos first, but this time Handel moves immediately into a point of imitation: “and all flesh shall see it together.” The men sing a stentorian proclamation on repeated longer notes: “for the mouth of the Lord has spoken it.” He then takes these two phrases and passes them all around the chorus. There follows a small ritornello and another full choral statement of “and the glory of the Lord.”

From here until the end of the work, these four motives are shared as points of imitation throughout the chorus. Handel ends the movement with one of his trademarks – a few moments of silence followed by one last grand statement by the full chorus and orchestra.

This has been a lot of complicated explanation of some terminology that we will hear again and again throughout Messiah. But understanding what we are hearing gives depth and meaning to the text in a way just reading it cannot.

“And the glory of the Lord shall be revealed” seems to me a double prophecy – one that has occurred and will occur again in the last days. The revelation of the Lord’s glory the first time came in a star shining in the night and was shared with only a few shepherds and some wise men. This is the gentle first motive Handel gives us. “All flesh shall see it together” won’t happen until the Lord makes his second arrival in triumph and “every knee shall bow… and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord to the glory of the Father.” (Philippians 2:20-11) This is the final grand statement of this movement.

Messiah – Part 1, Scene i: Isaiah’s Prophecy of Salvation

Part 1: Scene i, no. 3 Air: Isaiah 40:4

“Every valley shall be exalted, and every mountain and hill made low: the crooked straight and the rough places plain.”

When I was kid we used to pile in the back of my Grandpa’s hovercraft of a car, and he would drive us into town. The road we took was full of dips and hills, and we called it the roller-coaster road because he would gun it and our tummies would fly up and down. This happened pre-seatbelts and we were all over the back of the car, squealing and laughing.

Fast forward to my adulthood. The highway department came through and leveled out most of that road, taking out the ups and downs and sharp curves, and while it is now less fun to drive it is far more efficient and safe.

Every valley shall be exalted, and every mountain and hill made low; the crooked straight, and the rough places plain.

That is exactly what happened to our roller coaster road. A safe highway was created.

Prepare ye the way of the Lord, make straight…a highway for our God.

Christ came into a time fulfilled. The world was perfectly placed for the diffusion of Christianity at precisely that time in history. Pax Romana had, among other things, created good roads. Safe roads. At no time before had the world been as safe for travel. The roads were level and well kept. Within 500 years of Christ’s birth, most of Europe and North Africa were Christian. That is not a very long time in the span of history.

I mentioned word-painting in an earlier post. In this movement of Messiah we can hear it used correctly. Handel begins this movement with an instrumental ritornello, or little return. We will hear snippets of this material interspersed with the vocal material throughout the work. He then gives us, as is common in Baroque literature, an initial statement of the opening phrase. Handel then leads into a coloratura passage in which the “valleys” are “exalted” by using an ascending sequential pattern (starting at 3’29” in the recording.) He then ascends to “mountain” as the highest note of the phrase before descending to the lowest note of the phrase on the word “low.”

“The crooked” meanders around until it comes to a held note on “straight.” All of this is the DEFINITION of word-painting.

But it is more than that. Handel gives us such joyful music, it is almost as if the mountains, hills, and rough places are magically re-aligning themselves for the coming of Messiah. One hears the words of Psalm 114:4 brought to life musically: “You mountains, why were you jumping like goats, and you little hills like lambs?”

I particularly love this performance by tenor Kurt Streit and the English Concert directed by Trevor Pinnock. Streit fully captures the excitement and joy of this work, and of the anticipation of the coming Messiah.

Messiah – Part 1, Scene i: Isaiah’s Prophecy of Salvation

Part 1: Scene i, no. 2b Recitative: Isaiah 40:3

“The voice of him that crieth in the wilderness, Prepare ye the way of the LORD, make straight in the desert a highway for our God.”

The voice crying in the wilderness is John the Baptist. John knew Jesus from the womb. When Mary became pregnant as an unwed teen, the first place she went was to John’s mother, and Elizabeth believed the unbelievable. She had been prepared for it, by receiving her own miracle.

John preached repentance in the desert and people thronged to him. He prepared the way for Jesus’ ministry by exhorting people to repent and baptizing them. He baptized Jesus himself and was witness to the Spirit and voice proclaiming Jesus as the Beloved Son.

But for all his preparation, John was not without his doubts. At the end of his life, imprisoned by Herod for speaking truth and facing execution, he sends a message to Jesus: Are you the one? (Luke 7:18-31) The preparer is faltering, and Jesus reassures him, comforts him: “Go tell John what you have seen…Blessed is the man who does not fall away on account of me.” He then names John to the crowd as the voice crying in the wilderness.

This is a season of preparation. I’ve scrubbed the house, set out all the decorations. I’m planning and purchasing gifts, and making cookies. Every evening in the stillness, we light a candle on the advent wreath for a few minutes. I have to ask myself, though, what am I preparing for? And is this the right kind of preparation? The bustle and scurry can make me crazy and unkind and impatient. Instead of preparing my heart, I’m preparing my house. It is not without good reason, I want to create a place of warmth and welcome for my family. I want to point to Christmas as the prologue of the best story. I want to make straight in the desert of chaos a highway to my God.

But that’s not the point, is it? Shouldn’t I be making straight a highway FOR my God? Because He is coming to me, not the other way around. The time of preparation should be of contemplation, reflection, and repentance.

He is coming again. It is so easy to forget that in the distraction of everyday life.

Lord, help me prepare the way for you.

Handel sets this text in a very straight forward recitative. Generally this kind of recit would be set with just basso continuo, or harpsichord and cello. Handel heightens the declamatory effect by using the full orchestra, adding to the importance of what the voice has to say. This is a directive to get ready, and ends with a very strong cadence – the use of the dominant-tonic relationship – which I teach my students is the “The End” or authentic cadence. It’s the “no arguing” or “we are done” cadence. Prepare ye the way of the Lord, make straight in the desert a highway for our God. The. End.

Messiah – Part 1, Scene i: Isaiah’s Prophecy of Salvation

Part 1: Scene i, no. 2 Recitative: Isaiah 40: 1-2a

“Comfort ye, comfort ye my people, saith your God. Speak ye comfortably to Jerusalem, and cry unto her, that her warfare is accomplished, that her iniquity is pardoned”

The opening recitative in Messiah begins slowly and quietly, following a predictable thrumming chordal pattern in the key of E major. The tenor floats in the text “Comfort ye, comfort ye my people” and then declaims “saith your God.”

Many baroque and renaissance composers employed a technique called word-painting, or making the music sound like what the text means. While technically this is probably not word-painting, I can’t imagine a more comforting three notes – “Comfort ye”- almost like a sigh of relief – echoed immediately as if from heaven by the high strings. Handel uses a descending minor third which is also the same interval universally used by mothers to call their children in for dinner. There is not much more comforting than being called home by someone who loves you in that sing-song manner. I don’t know if that was Handel’s intention, but it works.

Handel moves into the next section “speak ye comfortably to Jerusalem” using another technique called sequencing – repeating the same music and text up a step, reassuring the listener. Then we hear an echo of the “comfort ye” motive followed by the tenor leaping an octave to “cry unto her” that her warfare is accomplished. The only strong dissonance we hear is when the tritone, the most dreaded of dissonances, is heard on the word “iniquity” and immediately resolves into a major chord on “pardoned.” Handel uses the augmented fourth to move us forward gently to a new place, out of sin and into redemption, and the key of B major.

So blah, blah, blah, music teacher. Honestly, when I listen to this, those are not the things I hear. What I hear is a piece of immense comfort which is exactly what Handel intended. This piece rarely fails to move me. It’s simplicity, poignancy, and musical beauty sets the great prophecy of Isaiah in such a way that I cannot help but hear the music when I read the text.

The slowness and deliberate pace of accompaniment – repeated eighth notes almost continuously – settles my anxious heart into a steady rhythm, requiring me to adapt to the music. This is something that text alone cannot do, no matter its meter.

Especially in this year of chaos, I need to hear this music. I need to be comforted and told that everything will be all right. I need my heartbeat to be steadied, and my breath sighed out. My iniquity is pardoned. So saith my God.

Messiah

PART ONE : The prophesy and realization of God’s plan to redeem mankind by the coming of the Messiah

George Frideric Handel wrote his beloved Messiah in about three weeks in 1741. The libretto for Messiah was compiled from the King James version of the Bible and the Coverdale Psalter by Charles Jennens, a man who believed in the primacy of scripture and created the wordbook of Messiah as a statement of faith.

Messiah is an oratorio. Oratorios were originally intended as unstaged, religious dramas, written for performances in an oratory – a sort of communal gathering space for church matters, much like today’s Fellowship Hall – during Lent when the theaters were closed.

Messiah differs from Handel’s other oratorios in that it does not tell a story. Rather, it is about the idea of a messiah, a series of texts that point to Jesus Christ as both God and man, savior and redeemer.

Much like Handel’s operas, Messiah is constructed of three parts, or acts. These three parts are divided into sixteen scenes.

Part One focuses primarily on prophecies by Isaiah, with a few other minor prophets thrown in. It deals with the advent, nativity and life of Jesus. Jennens’ compilation of texts paired with Handel’s music creates a rich backdrop for an Advent meditation. I’m going to use these texts and music for my quiet time this year as I prepare to celebrate Christ’s birth, and his second coming.

Jennens was obviously a deep thinker and a man of God. In the frontispiece of his wordbook, he includes the following scripture:

And without controversy, great is the Mystery of Godliness: God was manifested in the Flesh, justified by the Spirit, seen of Angels, preached among the Gentiles, believed on in the World, received up in Glory (1 Timothy 3:16)

In whom are hid all the Treasures of Wisdom and Knowledge (Colossians 2:3)

My prayer is that I (and perhaps you) can spend Advent contemplating the Mystery of Godliness, using Messiah as a catalyst.

Advent 1: Hope

O come, o come, Emmanuel, and ransom captive Israel! That mourns in lonely exile here until the Son of God appear.

It is the first Sunday of Advent, and I’m sitting on my couch in front of the fire looking at the display on my mantel. Every year I use my nativity as liturgical action figures to remind me of the Great Story. Currently the angel of hope stands before an expectant Mary, flanked on each side by two quotes – one that says “Ponder anew what the Almighty can do” and the other that simply admonishes us to Wait.

We have done so much waiting this year. Waiting for election results, waiting for a vaccine, waiting for the other shoe to drop…

Not all waiting is involuntary, but much of it is. So much of waiting lies in something beyond our control. Everything about this year feels out of control. A lesson I am trying to learn is that there is no control. Control is illusory.

Waiting is perhaps the hardest work there is, because waiting implies that there is not much we can do. I am a doer. When one is a doer, it is easy to assume there is control. To sit and ponder is stressful and uneasy. All major religions admonish us to learn to be still. My religion encourages me to be still and know that God is God.

To be still means to wait. To do nothing but wait.

To be still and know that God is God means to wait with expectancy, just as Mary did.

The first candle of advent signifies Hope. In some traditions that translates as Faith. To wait with expectation of something not yet arrived. To relinquish control, but acknowledge something is coming.

In my nativity set, the angel of hope holds a small candle that she shelters with her hand. The flame is fragile and must be protected. Hope can be like that. Hope must be nurtured and protected and that happens in the waiting. Without waiting, there is no hope, only things already fulfilled. Without hope, there is no waiting, only despairing. We wait for what will come. As a Christian, I wait with hope for what will come.

O come, o come Emmanuel. And ransom captive Israel.

Teaching in a Pandemic

I am a teacher. To be more specific, I’m actually a college professor. One of the things I love most about my job is the interaction with students. It is, in many ways, the true fountain of youth.

Young people have energy and life and good ideas. They bring so much to the table; some of it is good healthy fare, and some of it is junk food, but they are contributing to the potluck.

Here we are in May 2020. In December of 2019, I had never even heard of Covid-19, and now it has significantly changed my life. I am no longer in a classroom interacting with young minds. I am sitting behind a computer in my home office, which also happens to be my bedroom. From a socially approved distance I am attempting to educate.

I do not like it.

What don’t I like about it? Almost everything, but primarily I dislike the lack of contact with my students. There is value in face to face learning that cannot be replaced by technology, but that is another blog.

I love my students – in many ways I don’t even view them as students. Our relationship isn’t built in that way. I have always viewed myself more as a guide, steering them down an unknown path, encouraging them to do something they may not have done before, using what I know to help them overcome what they don’t know.

Here is a truth I don’t like. I’ve lost some of them. In this digital method of learning, some have gone AWOL, MIA. They are ghosting me. This gnaws at my heart in a way I was completely unprepared for. There are still many fantastic students. Responsible in the classroom, they are responsible on line. They get the work done, they interact to the best of their abilities with me via technology – it’s not ideal but we are communicating.

It’s the others. Their loss is haunting me. Are they ok? Is it a technical issue or are they spiraling emotionally?

So I keep reaching out – I send emails, I send texts. I grovel, I beg for contact, I ask them to come back.

Jesus tells a story that is similar to this, one that I’ve always slightly skimmed over because it was nice but didn’t really resonate.

Then Jesus told them this parable: 4 “Suppose one of you has a hundred sheep and loses one of them. Doesn’t he leave the ninety-nine in the open country and go after the lost sheep until he finds it? 5 And when he finds it, he joyfully puts it on his shoulders 6 and goes home. Then he calls his friends and neighbors together and says, ‘Rejoice with me; I have found my lost sheep.’ 7 I tell you that in the same way there will be more rejoicing in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who do not need to repent. Luke 15:3-7 NIV

Yep, lost sheep – the shepherd goes after them. But what about the other 99 alone in the open country?

Suppose one of you has a hundred students and one ghosts you…

There are 99 perfectly responsible students. They are okay on the hillside for a short time. They will continue to eat the grass, and drink the water, and stay in contact with each other.

So I go after the one student and I hound them until they respond. And I invite them to come back into the fold. And I Zoom every last one of my colleagues rejoicing! “Hey – we got him back!”

I will keep trying. I do not want to lose even one.

Renaissance and Reformation

To be born again and to reshape.

As Protestant Christendom prepares to honor the 500th anniversary of Martin Luther’s nailing his 95 theses to the Wittenberg church door, I have been thinking about what it means to be reformed.

Scholars agree that the philosophies that shaped Luther’s thinking, and the ability to spread the word about his ideas could not have happened before they did.  God carefully orchestrated history to create the ideal moment for the Church to get her act together by bringing into play great inventions, great minds and great discoveries.

We call this era the Renaissance, or re-birth. This is the time of great discovery, a time which changed and re-shaped our world.  The invention of the printing press in the early/mid 15th century allowed for inexpensive reproduction of written word. Suddenly, the Bible was available for anyone to read.  When great men of thought like Luther, Wycliffe, Calvin, and Zwingli – along with some of their lesser known predecessors – actually read the Bible instead of blindly accepting what the corrupt leadership of the Church was telling them, the belief system of the western world was rocked to its very foundation.

Only not really.  The foundation of the Church was built on Christ alone.  The Reformers just wanted to clear away the crumbling mortar and detritus of the centuries and get down to solid rock.

That shakes the world.

Great, all cool history, the church is reformed, but what does that have to do with me?

How do I apply all this to my own life?

The real question that bears asking is: where have I allowed tradition, complacency, selfish ambition and pride to crumble my mortar? How can I experience a renaissance and reformation in my own life and faith?

Isn’t that what Christ calls us to?  He tells Nicodemus in the dark of night that unless he is born again, unless he experiences a renaissance, he will not find God’s kingdom. (John 3:1-6)

On another dark night, Jesus himself prays for us “Sanctify them by the truth: your word is truth.” (John 17:17) To be sanctified is to be made holy, to be reformed in the eyes and by the hands of God.

“Your word is truth.”  Here is the crux of the matter.  How can I possibly know who God is, how He wants me to be re-born and re-shaped unless I know what He says?  Since I haven’t recently actually heard thundering from heaven, there is no way for me to hear His voice, to KNOW His voice, unless I immerse myself in the only form of His truth I have handily available.  And I have the great minds of the past – minds like Gutenberg the inventor, and Wycliffe the English translator – to thank for the fact that I own not one, but many, Bibles.  To hear and know God’s voice, I need to, in the words of Martin Luther, rely on sola scriptura. Luther said, “a simple layman armed with Scripture is greater than the mightiest pope without it”.

God’s word is truth.  To know His word, I need to read it.  Pray it.  Live it.  To experience renaissance and reformation, I must deliberately and thoughtfully put God’s word in my heart and actions.

Reform me.  Reshape me.  Let me be born again.

That is what will rock the world. That is what will bring re-birth and re-shaping.  Not just of me, but of those around me.  Church, wake-up.  It’s time for another Renaissance and Reformation.

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Commencement

Our oldest graduates high school tonight.  Every single cliche that was ever written about time flying has come painfully home to roost.  In those hard early years, when it felt like eternity just to get through a day, well-meaning older people would say “Enjoy it – it goes so fast” and I would nod and think Yeah, right.

Yeah, right.

One day you are bleary-eyed with sleep deprivation because they are newborns and the next because they are teenagers. And then they have the audacity TO GO TO COLLEGE!  How intensely ungrateful of them to grow up and leave.

The question I keep asking myself is how did we get here?

It’s the way of things.  When he was little, I would hold him and think I never want this to change and then it would and it was better.  Every phase seemed more interesting and fun, and I have to cling to that now – I need to hold tight to my past experience and trust it to be true for the future.  The best is yet to come.

Ah.  But isn’t that what God tells us over and over and over?  How am I so slow on the uptake?

There is surely a future hope for you, and your hope will not be cut off. Proverbs 23:18

I know the plans I have for you … plans to give you hope and a future. Jeremiah 29:11

No eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind conceived what God has prepared for those who love Him. I Corinthians 2:9

The grand narrative of scripture is so often about the next best thing.  Promises that what will come is better than what is now.  Sometimes the now is good, sometimes not, but either way better is commencing.

Merriam-Webster defines commencement as “a time when something begins.”

So why does it feel so much like an ending in my heart? I’ve spent the past few weeks reveling in the endings.  So many finals.  His final juggling show.  His final high school choir concert.  His final Boy Scout meeting.

While he’s been taking finals at school, I’ve been taking the finals of his childhood.

I am one of those lucky parents whose child is toward the young end of his particular grade.  As a late May baby, my boy just achieved adulthood legally.  So ALL of it culminates at once.

He commences. Something new is beginning.

In this time of lasts, there are also so many firsts.  The first time he signs his own waiver (that would be so he can ride a mechanical bull at the all-night graduation celebration – say, what? I am not sure he is qualified to make that decision! Oh wait.  Yes he is.) His first solo doctor’s appointment.  “Do you want me to go with you?”  “Yeah. But just sit out here in the waiting room.” Talk about feeling irrelevant.  Although it was kind of nice that HE had to fill out the paperwork!

He and his friends joked about buying cigarettes on their birthdays just because they could, not because they have any interest in smoking. (They didn’t do it.  Whew.)

I need to commence, too.  Not only do I need to take my hands off the wheel, but I should probably exit the vehicle.  On the other hand, I’m helping pay for college, so maybe I’ll just climb into the back seat.  This metaphor isn’t playing out quite how I’d like.  No one likes a back seat driver.

How do I commence this new phase of my life?  Again with the cliches – If you love something set it free…   Whatever.  But it is kind of fun to watch them fly.  Sometimes.

It just feels weird.  Conflicted.  Like I don’t know what to feel.  He’s ready.  I’m sort of ready.

There are things I keep reflecting on – have I said everything I should have? (Probably not.)  Have I said things I shouldn’t have?  (Yes. Uff da, yes – not so proud of those).

For the most part we’ve done it right.  We’ve taught him what is important to us, we’ve modeled the way we’d like to see him live. We’ve also screwed up, but we are big believers in repentance and forgiveness around this house, and so we’ve apologized. A lot.  Mostly we’ve loved him.

SO I keep reminding myself that this is not an end.  This is a beginning of an exciting and fun new phase.  Just like when he first smiled, or crawled, or began kindergarten was more fun and exciting than the previous stage. He is still my son. I will still have a presence in his life.  I will probably not hold my tongue when I should.  I will keep apologizing. I will keep forgiving and being forgiven.

He will take on the world. And with a lot of prayer and God willing, do a great job of it. He is ready to commence.

 

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The Greatest Commandments

 

Mark 12

28 One of the teachers of the law came and heard them debating. Noticing that Jesus had given them a good answer, he asked him, “Of all the commandments, which is the most important?”

29 “The most important one,” answered Jesus, “is this: ‘Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one. 30 Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.’ 31 The second is this: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no commandment greater than these.”

32 “Well said, teacher,” the man replied. “You are right in saying that God is one and there is no other but him. 33 To love him with all your heart, with all your understanding and with all your strength, and to love your neighbor as yourself is more important than all burnt offerings and sacrifices.”

34 When Jesus saw that he had answered wisely, he said to him, “You are not far from the kingdom of God.”

I’ve decided this summer to explore what this means in a practical sense.  If it’s important to Jesus (and He says so Himself), then it should probably be important to me as His follower.

This is a passage that I’ve known since childhood – among the first of the many many memory passages that dear Jack Musikov helped me learn in third grade Sunday School.  Jack would assign us a verse or two, and when we were able to recite it back to him, Jack would cry.  He also usually gave us some little trinket as a reward, but in looking back, it was his tears that made the largest impact.

Anyway,  it’s a passage that is easily rattled off, and while I’ve often thought about it, I’ve never really dissected how it could be applied in a practical way.  Jesus has never struck me as a theoretical kind of guy.  While He spoke in stories, there is always an element of action implied.  He tells the woman caught in adultery to “go and sin no more.”  The paralytic is told to pick up his mat. And in the parable of the wise and foolish builders, He says flat out that “Everyone who hears these words of mine AND PUTS THEM INTO PRACTICE is like a wise man…” (Matthew 7:24)

Um.  Hello?!

So why is this so hard?  The distractions of our day are so many that it is easy to not be deliberate about practicing what Jesus considers to be the most important commandment!  There is so much talk these days about intentionality. (Which spell-check is telling me isn’t even actually a word. I can’t point fingers because I make up words all the time. However, when I looked it up in the on-line dictionary, it does appear.  So there, spell-check!)

Our society harps on about being intentional.  I see nothing wrong with that, but how about a little less talk and a little more action?  What does being intentional look like?  And how do we choose what to be intentional about?  Sometimes I think we are mostly being intentional about being intentional. The fact of the matter is, it is extremely difficult to be intentional about everything.  And exhausting.

So I’m going to choose a few things to be intentional about this summer.  And those things are loving God with all my heart.  And with all my soul. And with all my mind.  And with all my strength.

And the hard one.  To love my neighbor as myself.

I will explore these commands in posts over the summer – how I’m trying to put them into practice, when it works and when I fall flat on my face.   And to make it memorable, I’m posting the commands on my wall where I will see them as a mini-reminder every day.

Welcome to my closet. You’ll notice that, yes, I’ve hung my reminder with painters’ tape.  And yes, it is just printed on cheap printer paper.  And yes, the only nod to being even remotely artsy is that I played with fonts.  Not very well.

Hey, you use what you have!  I’ll keep you posted on how it’s going.

 

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