Category Archives: By Elaine Gingrich

Bible Bites [Exegesis], By Elaine Gingrich

By Every Word [Poem by Mom]

June 20, 2015 Dwight Gingrich 2 Comments

When Mom “submits” a poem to me for publication, a dialogue begins. Since every word in a poem is important, we evaluate what Mom has written. What exactly does she mean by line X? How does the use of word Y shape the message of the poem? What would happen if we changed a semi-colon here, an image there, or a few punctuation marks? Does the title prepare the reader for the poem or capture something of its essence?

We don’t have any checklist for proofreading. Rather, I simply act as another set of eyes and ears, telling Mom my experience of reading her words and raising questions for her to consider. Sometimes she has her own questions about her writing efforts, wondering how she might best communicate her thoughts, or if her thoughts need improvement. Mom welcomes and values this interchange, because she knows that every word is important. And because every word is important, it is not uncommon for a few words to change before we publish Mom’s poem.

Not so with God’s words. Because every word of God is important, yes, we ask tough questions about these words and, yes, we dialogue with the Author. But when all is read and done, not a word is changed.

So here is Mom’s poem for June, with her own reflections. And here are the rest of the poems in this monthly series. Blessings as you read!

While preparing this poem post I received a newsletter from the Canadian branch of Christian Aid Ministries. Their article on the need for Bibles in Liberia put a new face on the message of this poem. In Liberia not even all pastors have Bibles, so some preach only what they have been told, opening the door to serious error in their teaching. The humid climate causes books to tear easily so it is not unusual for Bibles to have pages or even entire books missing.

After a teaching workshop, pastors were distressed to learn that they had been living immoral lives, unknowingly disobedient to God’s Word. What a vivid illustration of the need to feed on and live out all of God’s Word! It is also a call for us to do what we can to make the whole Bible available to the whole of humanity.

BY EVERY WORD

By every word your Heavenly Father spoke—
By every word—your soul is made alive,
And by each word alone shall it survive:
The words of law that by your deeds you broke,
Those words that to a sense of guilt awoke;
The words of grace that in your heart revive
A hope of pardon; doctrine to derive
A base for faith; exhortings that provoke
To deeds of charity and righteousness.
By every word–just as by every star
The vaulted sky in darkness can be known.
Just as the varied foods God gave to bless
And nourish bodies, so all God’s words are.
Man was not meant to live by bread alone.

—Elaine Gingrich, November 2, 1999

“Man shall not live by bread alone” (Matt. 4:4). It was this line that was the poetic impulse for the poem. I am a mother with menu planning on my list. Is that why I read a double meaning into those words?

Jesus continues his quote from Deuteronomy: “but by every word that proceedeth out of the mouth of God” (italics added).

In Deuteronomy 8:1-3 God teaches us that we are not kept alive only by the bread we bake. The Israelites were living inside an object lesson that taught them that their very existence depended on the words God spoke to keep them alive. But they were also being reminded that we humans are more than physical beings.

Israel lived in the wilderness on manna, angels’ food, bread from heaven, uncultivated by man, something foreign to them and difficult to label. So they called it manna–“What is it? a whatness.” It was not a diet of their own choosing. By God’s word it was given and according to His commandment it was gathered.

Was God not saying to them: “By my word I have fed your bodies from heaven, and even so I will keep your spirits alive as you eat my spiritual food. And not just the food that you choose to eat. When you obey all my commandments you will learn that your souls, too, live ‘by every word of God.’”? “The whole commandment that I command you today you shall be careful to do…” (Deut. 8:1).

In 2 Timothy 3:16 Paul wrote to Timothy that “all Scripture is given by inspiration of God and is profitable…” We need “all Scripture” if we want to be competently equipped for serving God. Not just our favourite passages or pet topics or preferred doctrines.

God humbles us with manna, unfamilar food that is difficult for us to comprehend, in order to test us and prove our faith and our willingness to believe and obey all that God has spoken. We don’t have the luxury of being picky eaters, of being children that refuse to eat our vegetables, or never progress from milk to meat (I Cor. 3:1-2; Heb. 5:11-14). Our Heavenly Father knows what we need. Man does not live by bread and milk alone.

Did you enjoy this sonnet? What words do you have to add to this discussion? Leave a comment here for Mom, or send her an email at . Thanks!

By Elaine Gingrich

Jasmine, Our Blossom [Poem by Mom]

May 15, 2015 Dwight Gingrich 1 Comment

It’s time for another poem from Mom! So I’ll remind you of the introduction to this monthly series and hand the microphone directly to my mother. Enjoy!

In early 2011 a precious baby girl was born to our son Brent and his wife, Carolyn. Terrifying blood sugar crashes over the next months led to a frightening diagnosis. Jasmine had hypopituitarism, an incurable, life-threatening congenital condition.

Jasmine Photo - May 2011b — Jasmine with my parents, Ken and Elaine.

This poem was born on a woodland walk in early May when I felt a desperate need to hear from God. I tossed my questions to the skies and tramped my fears into the forest floor. At my feet the spring blossoms were bursting through the mulch of years past. Poetry is for me a process of discovery, not a pronouncement of pat answers. In the work of God’s fingers I hear whispers of His ways and glimpse parables of His power. On this morning I again sensed God communing with me in the garden of His creative handiwork.

JASMINE: OUR BLOSSOM

At this time
Of trilliums and violets
Spring beauties and baby leaves
When eternity in our heart grieves
For everything exquisite and beautiful in its time
Whose time is so brief
Leaving behind fading fragrance
Beneath fronds of ferns
In springtime full-leaf—

At this time
Must we alone
Join Job
In receiving stone for bread,
Who wished himself dead,
Who had asked only to be just and merciful
Until he felt the full-force blow of physical
Loss and anguish?

Must we also
Face this puzzle too powerful
For that perfect and upright man?
Like Job who prayed for his children,
For this child’s coming too we prayed,
And open-hearted thanked you for the gift.

Each trillium opens pure and perfect to our sight.
So why at this time this blight,
This tiny hidden deadly flaw
Within this delicate blossom
This cherished child we received with awe?

I pace the wooded paths and ask:
How can You so distant and non-physical
Ethereal and other
Immense and grandiose of plan
Comprehend our weight?
Until I look beneath my feet—
You who find purpose in this brief
Exquisite woodland extravagance,
Each baby leaf,
What have you given us, bereft—
A stone? Or gift?

This we do know,
Whatever life may deny or grant her,
Your love will be her constant shelter,
Till past all brevity
And all disaster,
For all eternity in perfect beauty
Our Jasmine will bloom
Radiant with laughter
Happily forever after.

—Elaine Gingrich, May 12, 2011

The trillium, Ontario's provincial flower. — The trillium, Ontario’s provincial flower.

Photo Credit: anthony_7x via Compfight cc

Four years have passed since my woodland walk, and our “grand-blossom” is still blooming, exquisite and vibrant, hardy and full of life. Despite heart-stopping 911 calls and anxious hospital stays God has graciously preserved Jasmine’s life. Specialists at Sick Kid’s Hospital, a fine-tuned, carefully scheduled regimen of hormones, funding for the incredibly expensive growth hormone, many miracles, and the constant vigilance of loving parents have been God’s gifts to Jasmine’s health.

As with all flowers, we have to learn how to hold such a delicate life in our hands without crushing it, to delight in today with no demands on tomorrow. Must I know God’s purposes before I accept what He sends? Can I joy in the beauty of today and find His grace for any attending pain and for the uncertainty of tomorrow?

Jasmine revels in life—in each moment of it. True, she hates needles, but she loves people and runs laughing to meet life, with arms wide open, eyes sparkling and her voice full of laughter. She is learning to cast a line so she can go fishing with her big brothers. She has crammed a lot of living into four years, and her energy and delight seem boundless. As her grandma, I hold each moment with her in a special place in my heart, and I rest in knowing God holds both of us in His.

If you enjoyed this poem, leave a comment here for Mom, or send her an email at . Thanks!

PS: You might also enjoy Mom’s poem about one of Jasmine’s big brothers, my nephew Curtis.

By Elaine Gingrich, Church Chat [Ecclesiology]

There Is Hope of a Tree [Poem by Mom]

April 11, 2015 Dwight Gingrich 14 Comments

The Lord is risen! Do you still remember? Yes, I know that Easter was last weekend. But that doesn’t mean that the resurrection is “so last weekend.” Several days ago on Facebook I suggested that those who celebrate 40 days of Lent might consider also celebrating 40 days of Resurrection. A lot of people seemed to like the idea. Even better, as one person replied, we should celebrate Jesus’ resurrection 365 days a year!

In the spirit of such eternal resurrection celebration, I am sharing a resurrection poem from Mom—a poem that, Mom says, “focuses on the growth of the church post-Resurrection.”

First I’ll share Mom’s poem. Then I’ll share Mom’s account of how this poem was born. Finally, I’ll share a bit of my own analysis of this poem’s art. Oh, and a bonus question: Can you identify where Mom got the idea for the poem’s title? Happy reading!

(See here for an introduction to this monthly series from Mom.)

THERE IS HOPE OF A TREE

They were the branches, He the Vine.
“Abide in Me,” the Christ had said,
For any branch apart from Me
Will soon be dead.”

And now the Vine lay trampled, dead;
The branches scattered in the field.
Were they to have no leaves to bear,
No fruit to yield?

How could they pierce the tomb, stone-sealed?
“Stay close to Me,” they had been told.
Must they now wither, torn from Him,
Who lay there cold?

None dreamed, their grief but three days old,
Of how the world would scarce have room
For all their fruit when the green Vine
Burst from its tomb!

—Elaine Gingrich, May 1999

Mom’s Memories of the Birth of This Poem

This poem was written in church Sunday morning May 16,1999 when I was supposed to be listening to the sermon. As sometimes happens, the poem arose from a compelling image. The Sunday School lesson was from John 15, about the intimate connection between Christ, the Vine, and the disciples, His branches. When pastor Dave Frey began his Ascension message with reference to the 40-day period between the Resurrection and the Ascension, during which Jesus various times appeared and then disappeared from his disciples’ sight, I suddenly pictured the Vine cast into Golgotha’s tomb, to wither away out of sight, while His followers were scattered and cut off from their source of life. Had they wondered what would happen to Vine and branches now?

As Dave mentioned in his message—yes I do have sermon notes beside my poem stanzas in the notebook :-)—Jesus was teaching them in those 40 days after the Resurrection that He was present with them even when He was not visible. Also, when He was most unseen, He was accomplishing the most important work for them. Still today His hidden work behind the veil makes possible what we do for Him as we abide in Him.

Just as the disciples could not imagine any hopeful future after Jesus’ burial, let alone the birth of the church, so we need the eyes of faith to catch a vision for Christ’s work today.

As compensation for my distracted attention to his sermon, I later gave Dave a copy of my completed poem, which he graciously accepted. I hope that was adequate restitution and that the poem’s readers will not judge it a total waste of time.

Art Serving Life

The structure of this poem is simple, but artful. On the level of plot, it works like this: One stanza establishing the ground rules for life, two stanzas describing the confusion when this life is withdrawn, and a fourth providing unexpected and infinite resolution. On a literary level, it works like this: One stanza of command, two of questions, and one of exclamation.

Also artful is the arrangement of sentence lengths: The first two stanzas each contain two sentences, but of pleasantly contrasting length. The third stanza contains three sentences, which slows the pace of the poem further, suggesting the growing mood of uncertainty. Then the fourth stanza brings a sudden burst of speed by containing only one long sentence. This final sentence begins teasingly, tantalizing us with the possibility of hope in the first two words, hesitating briefly between two commas to remind us of grief, then unexpectedly accelerating with growing fullness and no time to breathe until the last line literally bursts upon us with resurrection life!

If you enjoyed this poem, leave a comment here for Mom, or send her an email at . Thanks!