Christmas 2021: A Long Overdue Update

Merry Christmas from the other Georgia Gambinis. (Jonathan and his family were here before us so I consider us to be the “other” Gambinis here.) Changing my tactic regarding Christmas greetings (we haven't sent Christmas cards in years) I decided to try utilizing the electronic means at our disposal to give as many of our family, friends and interested others an update on our lives. This way, if you're not interested in plowing through an uninteresting and interminably long letter, you can just skip it.

Most of you know – but some of you probably don't – that we moved to Georgia in 2018 so we could be closer to our son and his family. We live about 10-15 minutes away from them in Newnan, Georgia located about 30 minutes southwest of Atlanta. I won't go into everything we've done and experienced in the last 3½ years – just a few bits to give you a feel.

When we first moved here, we moved into a very comfortable 2-bedroom apartment. After about a year, we decided to purchase a 3-bedroom manufactured home in a very quiet community. A few months after we moved here, I decided to get a full-time job and went to work at a nearby Chick Fil A. I thoroughly enjoyed what I did and the people with whom I worked and whom I served. Wendy decided to officially retire early and begin getting social security payments. We also plugged into St. Matthew Catholic Church where Jonathan, Norma, Jamie and Simon worship.

During our first couple of years, here, Wendy began to experience problems with her vision and with her balance. We had found a good eye doctor and she got a new eye glass prescription but it didn't seem to help. The eye doctor told us that he noticed that her eyes “jiggled” periodically and suggested she see a neuro-ophthalmologist. We had taken her to a neurologist the year before to try to determine a cause for her imbalance but nothing was diagnosed. The neuro-ophthalmologist also said he could find nothing.

On the Saturday after Thanksgiving in 2020, Wendy fell at home and broke her hip requiring a full replacement of her left hip. After surgery and therapy I was able to bring her home the week before Christmas (originally, she was scheduled to come home Christmas Eve). She's healed well from the surgery but her worsening dizziness, balance problems and difficulty seeing – and now a seeming weakness developing in all of her limbs were of tremendous concern. Also, cognitive abilities were becoming compromised. Speech – both pronunciation and finding the words themselves – was problematic.

In May, Wendy turned 65 and we were able to get a medicare advantage plan that has helped tremendously with medical expenses. She saw a Primary Care Physician and we explained to her Wendy's symptoms and what we've tried. She recommended a neurologist whom we saw and FINALLY received a diagnosis of PSP – Progressive Supraneural Palsey, rare disease with symptoms initially that are Parkinson's-like. And like Parkinson's, there is currently no known cause nor cure.

In the midst of this I was diagnosed with early Stage 3 Kidney Disease and pre-diabetes. Basically it means I've had to radically change my eating habits – most of which entails as little sodium as possible and severe reduction of red meat and carbs. Processed foods – including most restaurant dining has been greatly curtailed. While it certainly has been an adjustment for us – I've been learning how to cook. Love the cooking but not so much the clean up.

It's been a tough year for just about all of us. For some it's mostly been matters of inconvenience. For others, it's been a year of disappointment, of genuine pain, loss, and brokenness, of the dying of dreams long held, of the light at the end of the tunnel looking like it's gone out. Perhaps this describes your situation to some degree. Covid-19 has played no small part in all of this but we are reminded that what we see and feel is not all there is to reality. There is a Truth and a Life that exists and which Christmas – as the Church has observed and celebrated – reminds us. All the celebrations and all the tears ought remind us that we are on our way Home. For now, the comfort and peace of Home – of Christmas – is found in faith in Christ. One day, faith will become sight – and we'll be home.

The Words We Use

My mom is a Quaker… really. No, she doesn’t dress like that Quaker guy you see on the Quaker Oats box but she speaks in that “old” style using “thee” and “thy” and “thine.” It’s not completely like listening to someone read the King James bible. She doesn’t put “-eth” (“cometh” and “sayeth” and such) at the end of verbs. But she does say things like, “How does thee feel today?” To me, it was completely normal. My grandparents (her mother and father) spoke the same way as did my aunt (her sister). It was not something they “put on.” They really spoke that way, all the time to everybody. That was just their language. That was normal.

When we (me and my siblings) were kids, my mother explained on several occasions that it was called the “simple” language. You see, in the days when everybody used that kind of language, there were two ways to address people. When you spoke to someone, one would normally use the more formal “you” to address them if they were not immediate family or close friend. If it was someone with whom one had a more intimate relationship, then they would address with the informal “thee.” For example, if you were at the hardware store, you might ask an employee, “Do you have drywall screws?” But if you were addressing a family member you might say, “Where did thee put the drywall screws?” “You” was formal and “thee” was informal. The two were never confused. Some modern languages (such as German) still have such a differentiation between the formal (“sie”) and the informal (“du”) “you.”

Quakers believed, however, that, in Christ all their relationships were fundamentally changed. Christ leveled the playing field, as it were. Consequently, Quakers (or, more properly, “Friends”) addressed one another with the informal “thee” regardless of relationships or status. Neighbors, co-workers, and even community officials (as well as family) were addressed as “thee” because Christ brings that kind of family “status” to all believers. Even God – Father, Son and Holy Spirit – were addressed with the informal and more intimate “thee” because of the new relationship established by Christ for the believer. This is why, when you read many older translations of the Bible, especially the psalms, God is always addressed with “thee” and “thou” and “thine.” It was an expression of the intimacy established through Christ by God with believers, his adopted spiritual children.

It’s interesting to note that most people who continue to use “Thee” and “Thou” and “Thine” when addressing God in prayer and worship use those words to imply, not a sense of informality but of formality. They doesn’t necessarily mean to imply a lack of intimacy with God. Indeed, many use it as a sign of deep respect, of God’s transcendent being, that though God calls us to intimacy with himself we must be ever mindful of his “otherness.” “Thee” is considered the appropriately formal way to address God. Not quite the opposite but something different from how it was first intended.

I recently heard someone pray addressing God with “thee” and “thou” and “thine.” This person later shared that this was the way he was taught to address God and that to address God as “you” was a breech of protocol; it was too cavalier.

I’ve often thought that so much of the time, many people want to come to God in a rather cavalier manner. “God is always with me; he’s my friend, my buddy.” While, in one sense, that certainly is true, it is only one aspect of the relationship between God and his people. While God certainly brings us into intimacy with himself through the person of Jesus Christ, God is still the Almighty, the Sovereign. He is still transcendent while he is imminent. He is the friend of sinners while he is still the King of kings and Lord of lords. We must never forget that part of what happened in the Incarnation is that God sacrificed simply in taking on human flesh. God the Son never sacrificed his ontological being as the Second Person of the Trinity. What he sacrificed was using that aspect of his being for the sake of his being: “Though he was in the form of God he did not deem equality with God something to be grasped at.” Simply in taking on the form of Man, God sacrificed. Jesus himself made it clear that he came to serve, to be a servant. He gave up the right to his authority as God and served, not just the Holy Father but also unholy man: “Rather he emptied himself and took the form of a slave being born in the likeness of men. He was known to be of human estate and it was thus that he humbled himself…” How much greater, then, was the sacrifice by his death on a cross: “…obediently accepting even death on a cross.”

We’d like to think it doesn’t much matter how we address God. Perhaps the auditory shape of the sounds we make doesn’t much matter. What matters, however, is what “shape” our heart is in. Perhaps in addressing God in prayer and in worship it does matter what words we use because we invest those words with meaning. What is our intent when we approach God? What is condition of our heart? With what attitude do we come to God? Might it not be possible that the words we use are a revelation of the shape of our heart?

“Thee?” or “You?” I don’t know if one is more appropriate to use in addressing God than the other. More than likely, however, giving careful attention to the words we use in prayer and in worship (including the songs we sing) might just bring our attention to the thing to which God gives his attention – our heart.

The Problem Is Not "Formalism"

Due to some of the exchange that's taken place on my facebook page regarding "Dead Formalism", i wrote a short piece there in the comments section and decided to make it a separate post here.

I think i need to explain that this is not limited to corporate worship... it's not even what i had in mind when i wrote it. This is about the heart. Jesus was quite clear when he talked about the uselessness of words uttered as if the word...s alone were sufficient for prayer. If you remember he castigated those who uttered "vain repetitious prayers." So does that mean using particular words more than once in prayer make the prayer a "vain repetitious prayer"? If so, then what are we to do with the prayer Jesus gave his disciples when his disciples asked him to teach them how to pray? Is that prayer (the Lord's Prayer) considered "dead formalism" or "vain repetition"?

Again, the issue is not with formalities... or lack thereof. Repetition itself is not the problem. And simply changing from one to the other (formal to informal or vice versa, repetition to wholly original or vice versa) is not the solution, either. The solution is getting one's heart right!

John Michael Talbot wrote a book called The Fire of God that i highly recommend. While he talks about various kinds of "fires" that can burn within us (and consume us!) he is talking about passion. It is *passion* that is the issue, regardless of the "form."

God gave us forms because we, ourselves as physical creatures in a physical creation, are creatures of form. Jesus came in "the form of man." Formal forms (formalism) are good.

"Dead" is the enemy, not formalism.

So-Called "Dead Formalism"

I re-read an old blog post this morning in which the term “dead formalism” was used. The writer was contemplating one of the feast days (the formalization of a certain day in the year to encourage contemplation of a particularly significant historic or person) of the Catholic Church. The particular feast day on which he was commenting was the Feast of the Transfiguration. What he noted was the difference between his perception of such formalizations prior to his conversion to the Catholic Church and how this formality now gave him opportunity and drew him in to contemplative thought of what this feast day commemorated – the Transfiguration of Christ. (The blog is Heart for God.) It got me to thinking, again, about formalities.

“Dead formality” seems to belong exclusively to the realm of religion at least in the mind of many protestants but even more so among most evangelicals . But isn't that rather hypocritical? Aren't there are lots of occasions and situations in which formality is not only preferred but appropriate and perhaps even required. Why is religion singled out as the realm of “anti-formalities”?

The military is one area in which formality is absolutely essential. Formality is not simply preferred in settings conferring military personnel to particular ranks but even required when it comes to a large part of their initial training. Some people (and by “some” I mean “many” if not “most”) prefer at least a certain degree of formality when it comes to high school proms and various kinds of ceremonies such as graduations. Weddings are typically very formal as are funerals. Induction into particular political offices are highly formal. Are any of these assumed to be “dead formalities”? Even in the area of religion, the installation of a church official to a particular office is quite formal – that is, it's done in a certain way (although that way may differ from religious group to religious group) to draw attention to the importance of the event. In the U.S., we have particular days that we have formalized as a way of drawing attention to a person or an event or even an idea. We have “Memorial Day” and “Martin Luther King, Jr. Day” and “Breast Cancer Awareness Month” and lots of other formalized days and weeks and months. Are these observances “dead” due solely to their formalization?

The examples I’ve cited are not “dead formalities” unless we deem them to be so. They are intended to draw attention to and encourage contemplative thought bringing, hopefully, some kind of positive response not only individually but even, at times, socially. The same is true in the area of religion. Formality is not inherently “dead.” A formality becomes “dead” if we make allowance for that, if we make a conscious choose to identify it as “dead.”

Jesus Christ brings life. Consequently, because of Christ, even that which is dead holds the potential for something that is full of life and even give life. But it's a choice, not an inevitability. How often are evangelicals enjoined to read the scriptures and pray and worship (among other things) even and, perhaps, particularly when they don't want to do so. Does that mean that these three things are “dead formalities.” Again, if, in the mind of the practitioner (or critic) such practices are a waste of time then, yes, probably, they are. But for the one who doesn't want them to be “dead” then they aren't even when they don't offer the preferred “feelings.” Christians should know better, that “feelings” simply don't tell the whole story. Just because something “feels” dead doesn't mean it is dead or that it must necessarily remain dead. Is there not something about this to be learned from the believers conversion from death to life in Christ let alone Christ's own death and resurrection?

The truth is we need formalities in our lives for precisely the reason the author (of the blog post I mentioned at the beginning of this article) discovered. As human beings, we are incredibly absent minded and can be outrageously myopic in our approach to life in general. Without certain formalities to remind of us and encourage us to refocus on important things (events, people, etc.) we are inclined to lose our selves in ourselves. And if we persist in such a state, we ontologically implode. Selfishness is the antithesis to all we deem morally good.

It is right to eschew the “dead” of dead formalism. But we dare not forget, no less lose the life given to us by God formally through Christ and his Church.

The Goodness of God

The goodness of God exceeds our greatest need for goodness. If we can dream of how good God might truly be, we must realize that His goodness exceeds even that - not only in quantity but also in kind. And then we must realize that is exactly what has come to us, what God has given us in Jesus.

How often do we come to God asking Him for something we know is obviously good but do so in a panic and with fear that God might withhold that good from us? We can hardly imagine anything better than the good we hold in our mind. We panic because we believe that if God does not grant this good thing to which we cling - even though we don't even have it in our possession - that we will die! or at least some part of us will die. Yet is the promise God has given to us in Christ that there is no good thing that he will withhold. Our problem is that we believe we know better than God what is best even though we do not have sufficient knowledge to know what is best let alone sufficient power to obtain it. And so we fret and fear and, basically, doubt that God wants to or can give us the good we seek.

Can we trust that God really is so good that he will not withhold any good thing from us? Can we trust that God is really so good that he will wait until the perfect moment to deliver that good to us? Can we trust in the goodness of God so that we can yield our most cherished dreams, our most carefully developed plans, and our highest expectations, even to the point of embracing disappointment and heartbreak, humiliation and suffering, even persecution and destitution knowing that God will deliver on his promise because God is good?

I ask you these questions but, more to the point, i ask myself these questions. I have failed miserably to give a positive reply so many times. I suspect you may have, also, at least to some degree. But the greatest goodness that we have from God is that if we will, in deep humility, trusting in God's goodness, go to him and admit our failure and his goodness to us, especially when have been anything but good, then we discover his goodness again for the first time. Then we can hear Jesus say to us, again, "I do not condemn you. Go and sin no more."

The goodness of God exceeds our greatest dreams and desire for goodness, for some-one to be good to us. God is good. God is love.

Wheat and Grapes

Jesus said, “This is my body…” speaking of the bread he blessed and broke at his last supper with his closest disciples. He also said, “This is my blood…” speaking of the wine they would drink at that same meal.

Both the bread and the wine are made from individual pieces or items – individual grains of wheat for the bread and individual grapes for the wine – that need to be crushed in order to be joined with the other crushed pieces to make the products of bread and wine. The bread can be made only after the wheat is crushed together. The wine can be made only after the grapes are crushed together. If the wheat and the grapes are not crushed, loosing their individuality in the process, they remain only wheat and grapes. And it is only after the wheat is crushed and made into bread that the bread can become the body of Christ; only after the grapes are crushed and made into wine can that wine become the blood of Christ.

I have to wonder if there is not a lesson here for us – for Christians and for the Church. God takes the wheat of our lives to make our lives bread and then as Christ himself. However, we must first be “crushed.” In the hands of God, we become the Body of Christ – both in an individual sense and in a corporate sense – but not apart from first being crushed.

We work so hard at avoiding being crushed. Does anyone imagine being crushed to be a pleasant experience? It really destroys us! Perhaps, however, that is precisely the point. We must be destroyed, in a sense. Perhaps this is the thing Jesus is trying to tell us: “The one who tries to save his life will lose it but the one who loses his life for my sake will save it.” We must embrace those things that would into our lives that would crush us and allow ourselves to be crushed. Perhaps it is even more than just allowing ourselves to be crushed. Perhaps it is even that we need to be intentional – not that we crush ourselves but that we both keep from stepping back from those “crushing experiences” and even stepping right into them… deliberately!

But this is so counterintuitive. It is not our first inclination. (At least, it’s not my first inclination.) We want to defend and protect ourselves. The paradox is that, if we give ourselves to a defensive and protective life, we die. What Jesus teaches and demonstrates to us, however, is that, if we both refuse to defend ourselves and even step directly under the weight that would crush us, even though we die, it is only then that we live with and in his life.

The Paradox

Each week I lead a vespers service at our church. Originally, the senior pastor had started this, leading this weekly vespers service. There were approximately 8-12 people, including myself but other than the pastor, who joined in this prayer time. Sometimes we’d have 15 or 16 people attend, sometimes only 6 or 7. When the pastor couldn’t be there for whatever reason, he usually called on me to lead the service which I was glad to do. The pastor has since retired from this church and I have taken the lead role.

Since the pastor’s retirement, the “regular” people to join in the vespers service has dwindled down to two others plus myself. Frequently, however, I am there praying alone as the two “regulars” are periodically away on various service oriented projects. While I would certainly love to have more people regularly join me for this prayer time (one that I think is invaluable for both the Church as well as the church), I have found these solo prayer times to be quite marvelous in their own way.

I have four “times” of prayer that I had adhere to fairly consistently each day. These are most often “solo” times although I am often aware that there is “heavenly host” that is also attendant – both angels and the saints who have gone on before me. I am usually conscious of the Holy Spirit’s presence and participation (although this isn’t nearly as much a feeling as it is of an understanding of the scripture’s information about how the Spirit helps us in our prayers). All that to say this: Personal/Solo prayer time is something with which I am quite comfortable and “practiced,” although certainly not perfect.

The point I’m getting to, however, is that it is particularly during those times of weekly vespers/evening prayers at the church that is unique for me, even though what I’m doing, technically, is no different than what I do during my other prayer times. It is especially during vespers – and even more so when I am alone during that time – that I become sharply aware that I am not at all alone as I pray. I become aware of praying with the Church. It’s not just praying in the church or offering prayers and praise to God as probably many Christians are doing at that moment but I become very much aware of being part of something much larger, joining with the Church of the ages and of eternity, joining with that “great cloud of witnesses” spoken of in Hebrews, being aware of them also interceding on my behalf and interceding with me for others and for God’s glory in ways that they now understand far better than they did when they walked this earth, far better than I could possibly grasp, now. I become aware that there are angels who strain to understand the mystery in which I am engaged but cannot fathom but are sent by God as ministering spirits to help me in that moment.

I find it fascinating, this, the paradox – it is in earthly solitude that I discover myself among the heavenly multitude.