Biblical Connection: One of my favorite passages in Scripture is found in John’s gospel where Jesus tells a woman that He is the water of life. It’s a long conversation Jesus has with a quite fallen Samaritan woman. She was a sinner. Maybe you, too, can identify:

A woman from Samaria came to draw water. Jesus said to her, “Give me a drink.” (For his disciples had gone away into the city to buy food.) The Samaritan woman said to him, “How is it that you, a Jew, ask for a drink from me, a woman of Samaria?” (For Jews have no dealings with Samaritans.) Jesus answered her, “If you knew the gift of God, and who it is that is saying to you, ‘Give me a drink,’ you would have asked him, and he would have given you living water.” The woman said to him, “Sir, you have nothing to draw water with, and the well is deep. Where do you get that living water? Are you greater than our father Jacob? He gave us the well and drank from it himself, as did his sons and his livestock.” Jesus said to her, “Everyone who drinks of this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks of the water that I will give him will never be thirsty again. The water that I will give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life.” The woman said to him, “Sir, give me this water, so that I will not be thirsty or have to come here to draw water.”

Jesus said to her, “Go, call your husband, and come here.” The woman answered him, “I have no husband.” Jesus said to her, “You are right in saying, ‘I have no husband’; for you have had five husbands, and the one you now have is not your husband. What you have said is true.” The woman said to him, “Sir, I perceive that you are a prophet. Our fathers worshiped on this mountain, but you say that in Jerusalem is the place where people ought to worship.” Jesus said to her, “Woman, believe me, the hour is coming when neither on this mountain nor in Jerusalem will you worship the Father. You worship what you do not know; we worship what we know, for salvation is from the Jews. But the hour is coming, and is now here, when the true worshipers will worship the Father in spirit and truth, for the Father is seeking such people to worship him. God is spirit, and those who worship him must worship in spirit and truth.” The woman said to him, “I know that Messiah is coming (he who is called Christ). When he comes, he will tell us all things.” Jesus said to her, “I who speak to you am he” (John 4:7-26 ESV).

Daily Life: The point that Jesus was making, of course, was that He was the promised Messiah and that she should believe upon Him because He was her only hope. He could forgive sins because He was and is God. She went and told others about Him. Verse 39 of the same chapter, for example, says, “Many Samaritans from that town believed in him because of the woman’s testimony . . .” (John 4:39 ESV).

Recently I was hit with news that really put me back on my heels. I found out that funding was not available for military training for which I have been planning. The politicians in D.C. find funds to send billions of taxpayer-funded arms to Ukraine, and we have funds for countless story hours of abomination in our taxpayer-funded public libraries, but when it comes to professional development for American soldiers, nope, sorry, fresh out of funds. Interesting. It’s cliche to say, “Follow the money,” to find out what’s really important to the folks in D.C. but it bears repeating.

The Connection: What does a slice from my daily life have to do with Jesus’s conversation with the Samaritan woman in John 4, and with you? Simple: The woman was a sinner and I am a sinner. The woman did not deserve the offer of the water of life and forgiveness. Nor do I. But grace was granted her and she was faithful to bear witness to her encounter with the Creator of the water, the Creator of all things under heaven. The woman had gone to the well for her immediate needs and she was met by the Giver of eternal life.

Back in Iraq: When I was deployed to Iraq, there was a spring-fed pool of water on the border between Iraq and Syria that the locals called “Abraham’s Well.” I used to escort soldiers and contractors and civilians out there regularly, offer a short homily and the Lord’s Supper. Why? Because amidst all that sand, all that stone, all that carnage, there was this little spring-fed pool of water in the middle of the desert. Palm trees and green shrubs grew up around it. Goats came regularly to drink from it, their shepherds standing overwatch with their staffs. And it is a place I will never forget because God, even in the desert moments, remains. And maybe I am to learn that I was too enamored of my career and not enough consumed by the Shepherd.

*And no, the picture above is not from Iraq. For security reasons, I will not share pictures of that place. This creek is simply one I walk regularly each week back in the States. I just thought the water metaphor would be more obvious.

It’s one of the catchiest tunes in the history of rock-n-roll. And when Stephen Stills and Neil Young and the other bandmembers created this now iconic tune, the 1960s were undergoing cultural upheaval and chaos, as the foundations of a civilzation were being destroyed.

Here are the wonderful lyrics to Buffalo Springfield’s classic tune, “For What’s It’s Worth”:

There’s something happening here
But what it is ain’t exactly clear
There’s a man with a gun over there
Telling me I got to beware

I think it’s time we stop
Children, what’s that sound?
Everybody look, what’s going down?

There’s battle lines being drawn
Nobody’s right if everybody’s wrong
Young people speaking their minds
Getting so much resistance from behind

It’s time we stop
Hey, what’s that sound?
Everybody look, what’s going down?

What a field day for the heat (Ooh ooh ooh)
A thousand people in the street (Ooh ooh ooh)
Singing songs and they carrying signs (Ooh ooh ooh)
Mostly say, “Hooray for our side” (Ooh ooh ooh)

It’s time we stop
Hey, what’s that sound?
Everybody look, what’s going down?

Paranoia strikes deep
Into your life it will creep
It starts when you’re always afraid
Step out of line, the men come and take you away

We better stop
Hey, what’s that sound?
Everybody look, what’s going down?

You better stop
Hey, what’s that sound?
Everybody look, what’s going down?

You better stop
Now, what’s that sound?
Everybody look, what’s going down?

You better stop
Children, what’s that sound?
Everybody look, what’s going down?

Description: When I read the news today on my computer I was again left speechless. One article described Disney’s determination to force homosexuality upon every possible show, character, storyline, and theme park:

https://www.breitbart.com/entertainment/2023/10/03/nolte-evil-disney-produced-the-most-homosexual-content-in-2022/

Another article described how illegal aliens in America gang raped girls in Minnesota this week. You might remember the leftists in Minnesota who insisted upon defunding the police. Well, here you go. Should you wish to endure the filth, here’s the article:

https://www.breitbart.com/politics/2023/10/03/minnesta-police-illegal-aliens-men-involved-gang-rape-young-girls/

And the ‘trans’ jihadists continue to make the other 99.9% of the world bow at the feet of the rainbow flags.

https://www.breitbart.com/entertainment/2023/09/24/non-binary-author-of-book-about-trans-4th-grader-parental-rights-really-anger-me/

Pink hair, a goatee, and he’s angry at you. Yup. Can’t make this stuff up.

Sometimes Only Songs Will Do:

Bob Dylan captured the chaos well in one of his many classics when he wrote the following:

The line it is drawn
The curse it is cast
The slow one now
Will later be fast
As the present now
Will later be past
The order is rapidly fadin’
And the first one now
Will later be last
For the times they are a-changin’

Final Thoughts: Prophecy is a dangerous calling, but I don’t think you have to be a prophet to see that the West is amidst revolution. The foundations of civilization, of critical thinking, of reality itself, are being deliberately destroyed. And it seems the few wise and mature have vacated. Now the mobs with seared consciences storm the halls left standing and demand you worship.

One could say it is sad what is occurring. But I don’t see it turning around anytime soon. It seems the West will withstand anything as long as a threshold of comfort is met. But I wonder how long it’ll be before the illegals come for more daughters, more sons, and the wokesters succeed in forbidding moms and dads from raising their own children, but will have mandatory twerk parties and pronoun camps for the urchins.

The West is reaping the whirlwind from jettisoning God, revelation, and reason. In its place, the pagans, drunk on the lies of secularism, progressivism, and postmodernism, execute the reign of terror disguised in make-up, dyed hair, and rainbows. So put on your Buffalo Springfield song again, turn it up loud, and remind yourself while the barbarians grow nearer your own door, “Something’s happening here.” Something’s going down, alright: it’s called the West.

Context: I have a buddy who adores birds as much as I adore trees. I am grateful to him for sharing his pictures with me of his beloved birds. Here are a few of them:

Encouragement: When I slow down and concentrate on the intricacies and irreducible complexities of birds–large, small, or tiny ones–it staggers my little mind. And I revert to the comforts I find in language. It is language that reminds me of birds, yes, but more of their Creator.

I think of Exodus 19, for example, where God speaks to Moses on Sinai. Israel had just been miraculously delivered from Egyptian captivity: “You yourselves have seen what I did to the Egyptians, and how I bore you on eagles’ wings and brought you to myself. Now therefore, if you will indeed obey my voice and keep my covenant, you shall be my treasured possession among all peoples, for all the earth is mine; and you shall be to me a kingdom of priests and a holy nation” (Exodus 19:4-6a ESV).

God essentially paints Moses a linguistic picture, saying, Don’t forget that deliverance is like being borne upon eagles’ wings, Moses; so, don’t forget. Remember who the Deliverer is. Remember His power.

Introduction: I remember as a boy when I tried to read the Bible and struggled to remain interested when I got to the genealogies. The “begat passages,” as I used to call them, kind of lulled me to disinterest. I thought to myself, “Let’s get to the good stuff, the action, the story. What’s the point of all the passages about family lineage and all the begats?”

It’s Different Now: I was a child then and I thought as a child. Now I’m on the older side of the scale and have been through the Bible many times. I won’t say that the “begat passages” are by any means my favorite but I do think I have begun to understand a bit of what God is revealing to his body, the church, by way of the genealogies.

Today in Matthew: This morning I was reading in Matthew 1. It is, of course, one of the genealogies in the Bible. But Matthew 1 is the genealogy of the God-man, Jesus Christ. And here is something I hope encourages believers and challenges the skeptics out there: genealogies matter because they reveal how God keeps his promises.

Matthew 1’s first words are “The book of the genealogy of Jesus Christ, the son of David, the son of Abraham” (Matthew 1:1 ESV). For people who don’t have a proper hermeneutic (principle of interpretation), they might immediately put them off because they don’t understand what Matthew is laboring in chapter 1 to demonstrate.

The whole point of Matthew’s gospel is that Jesus (the Christ) is the promised Messiah. His human incarnation is demonstrated via the Holy Spirit and Mary. But Jesus did not have a divine origin because he is eternal. Jesus in his human incarnation has a birthday, if you will, but Jesus as God almighty does not have a divine birthday, because the triune God of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit is eternal. There never was a time when Jesus was not, in other words.

Names Matter: Jesus’ name matters because his office matters. That is, Matthew tells us “they shall call his name Immanuel” (Matthew 1:23b ESV) because of its meaning: God with us. See it? God has come. God has revealed himself by way of the incarnation. He has come to dwell among us in order that may behold via eyewitness accounts over the course of years, how Jesus/Immanuel/God with us, was and is God in the flesh. The Son took on flesh and fulfilled the promises of the Old Testament. The whole Bible and the whole storyline of the Bible was leading up to the God-man, Jesus the Anointed One, the true King, Immanuel.

Matthew stresses why this is so important: “All this took place to fulfill what the Lord had spoken by the prophet” (Matthew 1:22 ESV). See it? To fulfill.

Encouragement: To state the obvious, we live in a fallen world where promises made are seldom kept. But there is One who cannot lie because he is holy. He is holy, holy, holy (cf. Isaiah 6). Christ is the fulfillment of the promises of God (Luke 24). Look to him, because he is utterly and supremely trustworthy. He is the fulfillment of the true, the good, and the beautiful.

Introduction: I was able to get home and get on the bike with the bride. We rode for five hours in TN and north GA. ‘Twas a beautiful day. Lots of motorcyclists were doing the same thing. And Jeeps abounded, too. The bride saw her favorite car, a Corvette, and suddenly became an excited girl again. Amazing how the fascinations we develop as adolescents often remain with us. When I ride the hills and mountains of east Tennessee and north GA, something happens in my spirit. I find myself with the tenderness and wonder I had as a boy, before the world tried to steal the soul. Below is a video that lasts only a few seconds but I hope you too are encouraged.

Definition:

Faithful (adj.): Early 14c., “sincerely religious, devout, pious,” especially in reference to Christian practice; mid-14c., “loyal (to a lord, friend, spouse, etc.); true; honest, trustworthy,” from faith + -ful. From late 14c. in reference to a tale, a report, etc., “accurate, reliable, true to the facts.” The noun sense of “true believer, one who is full of faith” is from late 14c. (Church Latin used fideles in same sense).

Connection: Near Paul’s very last words/letters/encouragement to all who will attend, as he continued to live rather than just talk faith:

Remember Jesus Christ, risen from the dead, the offspring of David, as preached in my gospel, for which I am suffering, bound with chains as a criminal. But the word of God is not bound! Therefore I endure everything for the sake of the elect, that they also may obtain the salvation that is in Christ Jesus with eternal glory.

The saying is trustworthy, for:

If we have died with him, we will also live with him;
if we endure, we will also reign with him;
if we deny him, he also will deny us;
if we are faithless, he remains faithful

for he cannot deny himself (2 Timothy 2:8-13 ESV).

Encouragement: Faithfulness is all.

One of the most underrated novels in literature is McCarthy’s Suttree. It is certainly as difficult, abstruse, intellectual, and word-besotted of a narrative as you will read. It is Ulysses and Finnegan’s Wake with a Tennessee twist. Where Joyce followed the currents of the Liffey under Dublin’s bridges McCarthy documents the flotsam and jetsam of Knoxville’s filthy river of detritus where dead babies, prophylactics, and rogues float, bob, and abide.

It’s not an easy read to see what is.

But with each rereading I find that the right music enriches it. Mark Lanegan’s album Black Pudding captures it. One senses the damp granitic smells of Appalachian caves near Knoxville and can hear the accents of those who wear UT shirts as tourists but never spent nights on the river amongst Suttree’s kith.

Here’s Lanegan’s album. Gone too soon, Mark. Thanks for your appreciation of McCarthy, Suttree in particular, and to your faithfulness to singing the unspeakable but vital.

McCarthy, You lived a long life and wrote better than anyone since Shakespeare, to a world drunk on adolescent self-absorption and mimesis. Some of us are with you. May you reap your rewards. And may you find the faithful to sing your literary praises in the river’s hollers to all who sway to magical goblined linguistic waves.

Deep, dark, heavy rain clouds were moving in from the Gulf. The sky appeared to hold weight. With his backpack over his left shoulder, the soldier pulled open the heavy door of the bookstore, walked to the coffee shop, purchased a black coffee from the barista, and sat at a circular rust-colored Formica-laminated table by the window. He was looking forward to the rain moving in, as the region had been in a drought for nearly a year.

     He slid the ladderback chair back on the white tile, sat, sipped his coffee, unzipped his backpack, and removed three books, a notebook, pen, and a laptop. He was about to resume his research from earlier in the morning when a woman appeared by the magazines. She was covered in tattoos. On her right thigh, a virago appeared with her tongue split into a Y like a serpent’s tongue. A horned creature in red appeared to the left of that one. Women in varying stages of undress enveloped the rest of her. Several flower petals covered her forearms and hands. HOLD FASTwas inked on her upper right arm. Hold fast to what? the soldier mused. 

    

Looking through the bookstore window, the browning crepe myrtle leaves were moving in the winds as the rain clouds moved closer and the clouds slid darkly above. The soldier sipped at his black coffee. He tried to concentrate on his research. A man appeared next to the woman suddenly. He was showing her pictures from the magazine Tattoo. The man had a long red beard; it was braided at the bottom like a girl in pigtails. A sky-blue rubber band was tied about a quarter of an inch above the bottom of his rust-colored braided beard. His arms were thick, reminding one of the cartoon character Popeye. But this man’s arms were hairy and inked.

     He was still showing the woman tattoos from the magazine when it suddenly fell to the floor. He bent to pick it up and his t-shirt rose in the back, revealing more tattoos. On the small of his back and around his waist, bold letters appeared: NO MAN’S SLAVE. He picked it up, smiled at the woman next to him, and they both continued to admire the images in the magazine.

     The dark clouds continued to threaten outside but no rain was yet falling. Similar colors greeted the soldier’s eyes through the store window. The crepe myrtles had tiny pink colors on top of green and brown leaves. The clouds ran in wide swaths of blues: azure, cobalt, royal, lapis. It seemed to him that colors could be used well or not. Outside the colors held fast his eyes as if imbued with meaning.

Introduction: When I was a kid in high school I went with a friend to see one of music’s great lyricists in concert. Bob Dylan was playing at Chastain Park and we got tickets and saw him. I knew all the words to his songs. I cannot say that it was a very good show. He seemed oblivious to his audience and made few efforts to acknowledge that we paid good money to come see him. Just a little, “Hey, thanks for coming out” would have been nice. I was still glad I went, but was disappointed that he didn’t play one of my favorites from the massive Dylan catalogue, “Shelter from the Storm.” Here are the lyrics:

‘Twas in another lifetime, one of toil and blood
When blackness was a virtue the road was full of mud
I came in from the wilderness, a creature void of form
Come in, she said
I’ll give ya shelter from the storm

And if I pass this way again, you can rest assured
I’ll always do my best for her, on that I give my word
In a world of steel-eyed death, and men who are fighting to be warm
Come in, she said
I’ll give ya shelter from the storm

Not a word was spoke between us, there was little risk involved
Everything up to that point had been left unresolved
Try imagining a place where it’s always safe and warm
Come in, she said
I’ll give ya shelter from the storm

I was burned out from exhaustion, buried in the hail
Poisoned in the bushes an’ blown out on the trail
Hunted like a crocodile, ravaged in the corn
Come in, she said
I’ll give ya shelter from the storm

Suddenly I turned around and she was standin’ there
With silver bracelets on her wrists and flowers in her hair
She walked up to me so gracefully and took my crown of thorns
Come in, she said
I’ll give ya shelter from the storm

Now there’s a wall between us, somethin’ there’s been lost
I took too much for granted, I got my signals crossed
Just to think that it all began on an uneventful morn
Come in, she said
I’ll give ya shelter from the storm

Well, the deputy walks on hard nails and the preacher rides a mount
But nothing really matters much, it’s doom alone that counts
And the one-eyed undertaker, he blows a futile horn
Come in, she said
I’ll give ya shelter from the storm

I’ve heard newborn babies wailin’ like a mournin’ dove
And old men with broken teeth stranded without love
Do I understand your question, man, is it hopeless and forlorn
Come in, she said
I’ll give ya shelter from the storm

In a little hilltop village, they gambled for my clothes
I bargained for salvation and she gave me a lethal dose
I offered up my innocence I got repaid with scorn
Come in, she said
I’ll give ya shelter from the storm

Well, I’m livin’ in a foreign country but I’m bound to cross the line
Beauty walks a razor’s edge, someday I’ll make it mine
If I could only turn back the clock to when God and her were born
Come in, she said
I’ll give ya shelter from the storm

The phrase “shelter from the storm,” like so many of Dylan’s lyrics, comes from Scripture. Isaiah 4:6 reads, “There will be a booth for shade by day from the heat, and for a refuge and a shelter from the storm and rain.” That passage’s context is about “God as a refuge to his people in all weathers,” as Matthew Henry notes.

Segue to Psalm 55: This coming Sunday I will assemble with fellow Christian pilgrims, and with them I will open to Psalm 55 which centers on David’s anguish of soul amidst so much that is false. David cries out to God. In verse two, he lays it out all before the Lord with his heart’s cry: “Attend to me, and answer me; I am restless in my complaint and I moan.”

I adore the book of Psalms because it keeps life real. It does not paint a spiritual facade over the suffering that people endure. The psalms show people like David–fallen but redeemed people like David–suffer amidst a vicious pagan world system replete with leaders who long ago sold out to the demonic. They serve their master, the devil. Meanwhile, David and other pilgrims like him, suffer while trying to do good. David is clearly a sinful man, but unlike the unregenerate masses, David repents and returns to God. He knows he will answer to God. He will give an account. There will be a reckoning.

David writes of treacherous people who betrayed him: “My companion stretched out his hand against his friends; he violated his covenant. His speech was smooth as butter, yet war was in his heart; his words were softer than oil, yet they were drawn swords” (Psalm 55, 20-21 ESV).

Who cannot identify with that experience? Who among us has not trusted someone only to be betrayed?

But all of this is to be understood in light of the metanarrative–the overarching message of the Bible–namely, that the ultimate king was not David; it was and is Jesus. And he was betrayed. He was lied about. He gave himself for sinners. He endured the wrath that sinners merited, yet was without sin himself. He was made sin for all who who repent and believe and flee to him in the gospel. Shelter from the storm.

David recommits himself to God in the last verse: “But I will trust in you” (Psalm 55:23b ESV). Shelter from the storm.

David recognizes that treachery is afoot, both far and near. Therefore, the wise will trust the Lord, not the fake professions of those following the father of lies. David knew where his shelter from the storm was. It was a place and a person.

Connections to Our Day: When you listen to politicians utter bromides about how wonderful they are, about how they’ll fix your problems, just look at their actions rather than listen to their empty words. They print money as fund whores gush borrowed inflated funds into Ukraine but America’s borders remain open for continued invasion. They may shut down the U.S. government next week because we’re out of money, but we send billions of armaments to Ukraine because we apparently believe some borders are important. Storms are gathering, you see.

Regardless of your politics, surely you see that. Storms are gathering. Just look what actions are taking place. Open borders; a total breakdown of the prosecution of violent crime; fentanyl-laden druggies gesticulating in crazed eruptions under our bridges and at intersections; kids being castrated, drugged, and mutilated by government indoctrination camps and medical Josef Mengeles of today. The children cannot read or think critically, but they are being drilled in the alphabet jihad pronoun nonsense. Storms are gathering, you see.

And where is shelter for the godly man or woman to be found? Read Psalm 55 and see the hope of all who hate wickedness and love goodness.

Encouragement: To quote David’s words again but from another of his poems, “Some trust in chariots and some in horses, but we trust in the name of the LORD our God” (Psalm 20:7 ESV). That’s the shelter from the storm, beloved, the shelter that conquered the lies and is a refuge for all who will come.

Question: In the Bible, trees are central. Why, do you think, God the Son was made to die upon the tree? It’s reflexive and flippant to say, “Well, because that was Rome’s way: crucifixion.”

Anyone who has spent even an inkling of time in Scripture and history recognizes there is much more going on here.

On the Track: Today I got in a few miles in on the track. One of the many beautiful trees left standing was this one. The second one is one (or perhaps more than one) you have seen before, as it is/they are what I see in the evenings as I return from work.

Question: Is it possible God speaks through timber, through the rooted message that springs from his earth’s timber, hangs upon his timber, and fashions that timber to honor his victory? As for me, you can likely induce my view. God speaks, dear ones. One need only ears to hear and eyes to see. And then: praise.

As I was in Ezekiel’s book later in the day, I was again prodded to think on these things. God spoke to his prophet Ezekiel thus:

²² Thus says the Lord God: “I myself will take a sprig from the lofty top of the cedar and will set it out. I will break off from the topmost of its young twigs a tender one, and I myself will plant it on a high and lofty mountain. ²³ On the mountain height of Israel will I plant it, that it may bear branches and produce fruit and become a noble cedar. And under it will dwell every kind of bird; in the shade of its branches birds of every sort will nest. ²⁴ And all the trees of the field shall know that I am the Lord; I bring low the high tree, and make high the low tree, dry up the green tree, and make the dry tree flourish. I am the Lord; I have spoken, and I will do it.” (Ezekiel 17:22-24 ESV).