Seth Lewis

Scattered Thoughts (a poem)

Sometimes my thoughts are
scattered
and I have to
go and gather them—I have to
use my feet and walk I have to
leave my seat and clock and
somewhere in the great
outdoors
in open skies
and grassy floors
I find the threads and pull them in
and now the weaving can begin
and when I go back home again
I understand

Songs Of Trust

This week I’d like to share a few songs with you that I’ve been enjoying recently. These songs are diverse in musical style (I know musical tastes are different, so I won’t be offended if you don’t prefer them) yet all of them share the theme of trusting God. Trust is not always easy, especially when God’s ways and times are different than what we want or expect. These songs have encouraged me as I’ve waited for the Lord. Maybe they could encourage you, too.

John’s Magnificent Pineapples

There once was a man named John the Magnificent. At least, that’s that he called himself. He lived near our home in Ireland a long time ago. I only know about him because of the effort he put in to proving his chosen name—because his manor house really is magnificent, and is still surrounded by gorgeous gardens that are now open to the public (I’m not sure John would approve of this, but he hasn’t said anything). In John’s day, a garden was a great way to display your wealth. His arboretum includes exotic specimens from around the world, and his greenhouses were so well designed and equipped that he was able to serve his guests home-grown pineapples—in Ireland!

A Time To Be Tired

In Ecclesiastes 3, Solomon famously says that “There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens”. For example, he says that there is “a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot”, there is “a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance”, and the list goes on. It’s a long list, but it isn’t exhaustive, and I’d like to propose another pair that fits the theme:

There is a time to save your strength, and a time to spend it.

Small (a poem)

A sunbeam
A bird
A smile
A word
A song
So revealing
So filled up
With feeling
A wrinkle
A fear
A sweat bead
A tear
A dance in the kitchen
A laugh in the hall—
A lifetime so big
Made of moments
So small

Of Birds, Baguettes, And Being A Creature

On a lakeshore in the French Alps, the old city of Annecy rises to meet the castle that crowns the hill. At the water’s edge, shops and restaurants trade in the same buildings that were used by medieval merchants. Our children were small when our family visited, but the memories are still clear in my mind. I remember the woman beside the water with a baguette, feeding the birds. I remember how fascinated the children were at how she could get the birds to come and eat bread right out of her hands. Then, when she noticed them noticing her, she generously gave the rest of her baguette to our family so that we could try it, too. Sure enough, a few bits of baguette was all it took to attract flocks of sparrows who flew around our heads, landed on our fingers and ate right out of our outstretched hands. Then again, who wouldn’t accept an invitation to share in a proper French baguette? As they came, we wondered at their tiny bodies, and we laughed at the feeling of their feet on our fingers. I suppose all animals will be this friendly and unafraid in the new creation. That will be glorious.

Appreciation Grows With Knowledge

The car windows were open, and Carlos Santana was making his guitar sing out of our stereo in ways that few can imitate. With the wind in her hair, my wife commented from the passenger seat that she reckoned people who play guitar probably appreciate his solos more than she could. She’s an experienced musician herself, but her instrument is piano. I play guitar—but I wouldn’t claim such a thing in front of Carlos. Still, even my amateur knowledge makes me see the truth in what my wife said. I’ve tried to learn my scales and unlock the hidden order of the fretboard and train my fingers to move freely along it—and I have not succeeded. When I hear someone whose mastery of the instrument is as complete as Santana’s, I think my own attempts—as small as they are—really do make me appreciate his abilities in a different way. My limited experience with the instrument gives me the beginnings of a context for the kind of work he must have put in day after day and year after year to develop his seemingly effortless (yet in reality hard won) talent. I’d imagine if I was more accomplished at guitar myself, I would appreciate the skill of masters like Santana even more. As my knowledge of music grows, my appreciation grows along with it.

Wildflowers Anonymous (a poem)

Hello my name is
Wildflower
Here today and
Gone tomorrow
Bursting glory
In my hour
Then I fade away

With me are ten thousand
Others—each one with
The same bright colours
How will I stand out from these
If I am just the same?

I don’t mind
It’s not my job
My colours are
A gift from God
And if I bloom
For just one day
And if a million
Are the same
And if nobody
Learns my name
I’ll still bloom here—
I still will bring
My little piece of glory
Sing
My song into the story
For my Maker
For my King

A Personal Update

I’ve been living on this planet long enough to get used to a lot of things (probably too used to too many things), but I’m also starting to realise that there is—and always will be—more room for first-time experiences. The world is full of possibilities, and life is full of change. Things won’t stay the same for long even if I want them to, so I figure I might as well embrace the constant adjustments and do my best to keep learning as I go. That’s certainly the way it is with family life—our children keep changing and growing, with new experiences all around. Our oldest son just got his provisional driving license, our middle son got a drum kit, and our daughter—the youngest—is about to graduate from primary school. I’m about to be the father of three children in secondary school, a new experience for sure. It feels strange, but that’s ok. Life is like that. Bring it on. Another new experience for me is leading our local church, which just launched in February, so everything we do is new. It’s been a full few months, and I’ve loved it. I thank God every day for the wonderful people we get to share life with in our little church. If you’re not part of a local church, I can’t recommend it highly enough. Find one and get as involved as you can!

Three Castle Head

On a sunny day in the Spring, we pulled the car into a gravel parking area at the end of a remote peninsula in Ireland. The sea shimmered in the light beyond the deep green fields lined and dotted with grey rock walls and white sheep. We opened the gate and crossed a field, and then another, and another, carefully following the faint paths worn by the feet of those who had come here before us. Sometimes we had to make a choice—it seems not all of our predecessors had gone the same way. Or did hooves make one trail, and feet another? Eventually the grassy fields gave way to rocky hills, and we scrambled up one side and down the other where the grass and mud and boulders and the sound of the sea all blend together into a kind of otherworldly magic and I had to remind myself that I wasn’t looking at an illustration of the Wild Lands of Narnia—I was in the real, tangible, wild of the actual world.