Tag: photography

Between Your Head and Your Heart

Sandhill Crane on nest ground view vignette 4-30-16 Swaner Preserve Park City UTI posted this photo today on Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram, taken last weekend at a wildlife preserve in Park City, Utah. This picture of a nesting sandhill crane, so perfectly camouflaged by its bullrush surroundings in the marsh, almost didn’t happen. Except for one thing: before hitting the trail with camera in hand, I stopped by the visitor’s center. The very helpful young student at reception responded to my inquiries about the birds in the area and asked me if I planned to go to the tower observation deck on the third floor.

You don’t know what you don’t know, and I didn’t even know that there was an observation deck on the third floor – another good reason to ask questions and listen. She proceeded to tell me that there existed a pair of nesting sandhill cranes in the marsh that most people never see, because they don’t know they are there. She handed me a handy enlarged photo of the marsh – a bird’s eye view taken from the observation deck – with a big red X marking the spot where the sandhill crane nest sat.

The photos of the cranes are something I will treasure and share with others. And something I would have completely missed because of their marvelous camouflage had I not taken a moment to stop and ask a question, and then followed the student’s directions. The 90 minutes I spent there were moments when I sensed the glory of God and his marvelous creation. All the more amazing because I discovered this place right next to a huge shopping complex designed to provide for the masses of people who visit the area to ski, enjoy the former Winter Olympic sites in the area (2002), or attend the Sundance Film Festival. We had eaten lunch there the day before and I had no idea the nature preserve with sandhill cranes and more than 50 other species of birds I would spot the next day was just a few yards away.

I read something today that I think touches on the fringe of where many people are in our culture who are spiritual seekers. Like me, they don’t know what they don’t know. They don’t know that God is near, and that he may be speaking to them through the wonders of life and His creation. For them, I pray that the truth of Hebrews 11:6 will become reality to them: “Any person who comes to God must believe that he exists, and he rewards those who diligently seek him.”

That is where faith begins – often with a feeling in the heart that you cannot argue with. It just is there, evoking a sense of wonder and awe, touching the depths of a soul you intellectually aren’t sure you possess. Between the heart and the head. Only about 18 inches, but within that space grow the seeds of faith God plants along the way, creating a hedge to bridge the gap between faith and reason.

Even those who describe themselves as atheists (as this author did at one point in his life, although if you read on you will discover he was raised in a conservative Baptist home), eventually find themselves torn by the dilemma between what their intellect says and what their heart tells them. Whether to follow the wanderings and wonderings of their heart leading them to worship God, despite what their head tells them.

This article takes some wading through to discover the gems by the author, a man battling with cancer, also a Yale professor, who states: “I believe that the question of faith—which is ultimately separable from the question of “religion”—is the single most important question that any person asks in and of her life, and that every life is an answer to this question, whether she has addressed it consciously or not.” And this piece was published in “The American Scholar” of all places:

The American Scholar: I Will Love You in the Summertime – Christian Wiman
Between the rupture of life and the rapture of language lies a world of awe and witness
THEAMERICANSCHOLAR.ORG

 

Perspective: What’s Wrong With This Picture?

What's Wrong With This Picture“Wow, look at Mt. Rainier this morning, what a magnificent view! Can’t you see it?”  From my perspective sitting in a window seat of a 767 flying at about 25,000 feet, it looked like I could almost reach out and touch Washington state’s highest peak. Just after sunrise, the view was spectacular.

“No, I can’t see a thing,” replied the attractive woman sitting next to me, who happened to be my wife, Jodi.

“Well move over a little closer to me, now can you see it?”

“Still can’t see a thing,” Jodi replied. By then we had flown further east and left Mt. Rainier behind.

“Well, you should have seen it—simply amazing!”

“Sure,” Jodi replied, sounding somewhat unconvinced and perhaps a little chagrined that I had interrupted her nap and occupied the window seat. At that hour of the morning, I could understand why she didn’t share my enthusiasm for something she could not see.

Perspective. It all depends upon your point of view. From where you are sitting you see one thing, and you see it clearly, perhaps with a great deal of certainty. But the person sitting right next to you might see a different picture. Maybe something entirely different. Or maybe they see nothing at all.

This can be frustrating, and lead to disagreements. I am convinced that a lot of the conflict we experience in life stems from the tension of differing perspectives. People with diverse points of view may not see eye to eye. That’s why we need to learn to listen and ask questions, so we can sense what others see and maybe understand them a little better. Instead, we are often too quick to try and tell how things look from our point of view, and grow increasingly frustrated if they can’t seem to view things our way or immediately agree with our perspective.

The photo above was taken from an airplane. What’s wrong with the picture? Well, you probably notice that the blue sky is above the clouds, something you could only see from a perspective about six miles above terra firma. From where most of us are usually standing on planet earth, the view below would be cloudy and dark, much different from the view above the clouds.

Wouldn’t it be great if we could always see what is happening above the clouds? It would not only change our perspective, it would probably change our attitude. And really, isn’t that what faith is all about? Standing on the ground on a dark and rainy day, we may project the darkness and dreariness that we see. But above those dripping clouds, the sun is shining. We know that. Yet we see no evidence of it at the moment. Maybe that is why the writer of Hebrews said, “Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.”  (Hebrews 11:1)

Perspective. That is the difference between faith and unbelief. Between a life attitude ruled by the view from ground zero and a life attitude ruled by believing the sun is shining above the clouds. And you really should have seen that view of Mt. Rainier. Well, I did take a picture, so you can!

Aerial View Mt Rainier - Don Detrick c 2013

And by the way, if you would like a different perspective on what it means to follow Jesus Christ, my new book, Growing Disciples Organically: The Jesus Method of Spiritual Formation is now available in tree or e-form at the following links:

http://www.amazon.com/Growing-Disciples-Organically-Spiritual-Formation/dp/1937756815/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1368201234&sr=1-1&keywords=growing+disciples+organically

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/growing-disciples-organically-don-detrick/1113026834?ean=9781937756819

http://www.christianbook.com/Christian/Books/product?item_no=756819&product_redirect=1&Ntt=756819&item_code=&Ntk=keywords&event=ESRCP

Why I Love Old Barns

Why I Love Old Barns Graphic BarnDriving by, what you see is probably different from what I see. The barn may be old and dilapidated. The roof started leaking years ago and eventually the weather soaked into the supporting timbers so the old girl now sags where she once stood firm and tall. If you look closely enough, you might see flecks of red paint under the growing lichens and moss on the sideboards. If you are lucky, you might find the upper floor still intact, once the home to bales or mounds of hay, guaranteeing the livestock would not starve during winter’s ravaging days. And if you are really lucky, you might find the old block and tackle with rope still attached, now rotting and frayed, but once attached to a hay fork or hook designed to transport that hay and probably a young boy or two up to the hayloft on a hot summer day.

Work and pleasure—that’s what comes to mind when I see that old barn, along with a million more memories. Because I once was one of those delighted boys who loved it when the work was done and my dad would use the old block and tackle to provide me a joyous ride on a rope up to the hayloft. It wasn’t quite the same as riding the Zipper at the state fair. But for a home-made thrill, it was as about as good as it gets, at least in those days. Much better than coasting my bike at breakneck speed down Sunnycrest Hill, especially since there was no crash at the end with bloody chin, hands, elbows, and knees, not to mention the smattering of gravel ground in for good measure. No, you could ride to the top relatively unscathed without so much as a concussion, unless a friend other than your dad happened to be hoisting you up and let the rope slip when you were almost at the top! So I stop and take a picture to preserve what will soon be rot, dust, and ashes, knowing that somebody somewhere probably cherishes similar memories from this very place.

Old Barn and Silo 2 on Mox Chehalis Rd 4-14-13What adventures were staged in that hayloft, real or imagined? Pirates and terror on the high seas played out in a child’s mind, though miles from the nearest body of navigable water? Cowboys riding their horses at a gallop with Winchester Model 94’s pulled from the scabbard while in hot pursuit of a mountain lion threatening their cattle? World War II Soldiers fighting the Battle of the Bulge to protect the world from Nazi tyranny? Or how about a first crush daydream interlude, as a fourth grade boy imagines waking in the middle of the night hearing the screams of Laura Lane, his classmate up the road.  “Somebody please save me,” Laura screams. Our young hero bravely answers the call to duty and rescues Laura from the fiery inferno, although becoming mortally wounded in the process. Stumbling through the flaming wreckage with suffocating smoke, he grabs Laura in his arms. He relishes his final breath as Laura declares her eternal gratitude for her young rescuer and kisses his bruised cheek and smiles as he places her safely on the front lawn, his final act of sacrificial devotion. In a hayloft, heroes lived and died, and imagination was better than a video game.

Barns can also be a place of worship and prayer, of meeting with God. In the Old Testament, Gideon was threshing grain when the angel of the Lord appeared to him. Jesus was born amid livestock and laid in a manger. Farmers know well the biblical injunction to “pray without ceasing.” Whether praying about the weather, a crop, or a prodigal child, a farmer’s work often allowed ample time to pray while milking the cows, slopping the hogs, feeding the chickens, or driving the tractor. The pace of life and nature of the work provide a symbiotic relationship and environment for prayer and reflection to flourish. I remember a young boy praying while performing such chores, or while lying flat on his back in the hayloft. “Lord, what do you want me to do with my life?”

What about the economic benefit to the family and community? The livestock produced, the cows milked, all providing more employment for the hired hands, the delivery people, the feed store, and the grocery store workers? A single family farm could have far-reaching influence for labor and industry. Not to mention the lessons learned in thrift, character, and the satisfaction of working with your hands and cooperating with God in the care of his creation and growing things beneficial to God’s children.

Old Barn and Silo on Mox Chehalis Rd 4-14-13And what about the family ties, stronger than the rope in the hayloft, that intertwined and made family the heart of the family farm? While not fair to compare it to contemporary living in a city apartment, the truth is, there is no comparison. Memories of farm life are all about family, love, endurance, strength, doing things, and getting things done—together. Unlike most twenty-first century families, farm families lived, worked, ate, and played—together. We knew our land like the back of our hands, every fence, valley, creek, tree, and blade of grass. And we knew each other’s strengths and weaknesses. Despite the latter, we worked together to make each other successful. Every meal lovingly prepared was the tasty culmination of a team effort.

So, that’s why I take photographs of old barns. I see a different picture, an image carefully concealed and hiding beyond the pile of junk you might glimpse driving past at sixty miles per hour. I see the intersection of time, space, weather, God’s creativity and faithfulness combined with human existence to produce a work of art. Capturing it in a snapshot of time seems the least I can do.

Resurrection: Signs of Spring

Resurrection - Signs of SpringI saw it this morning, a lone neighborhood rhododendron protesting the stark dormant landscape by unfurling its pink and ivory petals. Against all odds on this dark and rainy day, it victoriously displayed the inevitable triumph of resurrection. Though all outward circumstances indicate winter still maintains its frigid clutch on the landscape, the rebellious rhodie down the street courageously emerged to reveal its delicate beauty, despite the cold. And despite the biting wind and rain, I watched famished bumble bees, laden with pollen, battle one another for the sweet nourishment it offered them following months of impoverished hunger.

As I write this afternoon, another late winter squall fiercely peppers my window with raindrops like bullets from a machine gun. Although the official announcement of spring  is only a few days away, today the coming of spring seems a long way off–except for the memory of this morning’s lone rhododendron. Like a brave sentinel, it boldly maintains its post within enemy territory.First Rhodie lower res large 3-16-13 Petal by petal it unfolds to reveal a spectacle so gloriously un-winter like that I threw caution to the wind and rain, jumping at the chance for a photograph. In the face of possible damage to camera or equipment, I gladly took the risk in exchange for a permanent reminder that winter does not last forever. Knowing the unpredictability of our Pacific Northwest weather, spring may not truly arrive for a couple of months. In the meantime, the photo is a vivid reminder of spring’s inevitability.

Last week another photo opportunity reminded me of the same principle as I captured a shot of a rose bush with emerging leaves next to dead and decaying blossoms from last season, alongside a bright red rose hip (top photo). That rose hip, like the emerging leaves, serves as a reminder of life. For some reason, possibly having something to do with our bumblebee friends, that particular blossom was pollenated. So unlike its dead neighboring blossoms, it has become pregnant with seeds, and grown fatter over the winter months. Unless pruned by the gardener, it will soon open to scatter its seeds, spreading life. Death and life. Winter and spring. We can’t have one without the other.

During this holy season in the weeks leading up to Easter, we are reminded of resurrection hope in the midst of challenging, wintery circumstances. Jesus said, “Because I live, you shall live also” (John 14:19). But before a resurrection, there had to be a death. The sunshine of Palm Sunday gave way to the wintery shadows of the Holy Week. The weather changed when the passionate crowds turned icy in their fickle rejection of the King they had warmly welcomed days earlier. And the entire world seemed captured by winter’s frigid, dark embrace, culminating with the seemingly not good crucifixion on Good Friday.

Can you imagine the questions peppering the minds of Jesus’ followers? They had no familiarity with machine guns or bullets, yet the questions must have relentlessly pounded at the window of their souls. Mary no doubt was reminded of Simeon’s ominous prophecy given years earlier, “a sword will pierce your heart” (Luke 2:35). She wondered, “Why my son? Why now?”

For the disciples, the last three years were re-lived, revealing persistent questions. “Where are the miracles now? Why are we powerless to do something? Why doesn’t God do something?” Where was the glorious revelation of the Heavenly Father, like the voice they heard at Jesus’ transfiguration? Why was His booming voice, “This is my beloved Son,” silent on that day? Why did darkness cover the face of the earth, like the dark questions brooding in their hearts and minds, enveloping their hopes and dreams in disappointment and fear? Why only shadowed silence?

“Why?” always takes precedence as the most persistent of all questions when things go awry. And it persistently remains the most troublesome question. Why did Jesus cry out, “My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?” Forsaken by God – that seems the conclusion when winter covers the landscape and winter’s chill seems permanent. For the disciples it must have generated even more questions. Had God forsaken them? Is that what they had signed up for, given the last three years of their lives for, to be forsaken by God?

During times of winter questioning, it is best to remember the words spoken in an earlier season. The words of explanation, words of comfort, words of hope, spoken to give us perspective on the days ahead when our gardens are currently overflowing and beauty abounds. To remember, we must listen in the first place. What had Jesus told them earlier that would have explained these tragic circumstances? What has He told you, that might sustain and offer hope during a bleak winter storm? What did you learn in the light that you must remember in the dark?

Virtually every birth comes at a painful price. Whether the birth of a human child, or the birth of a dream, birth pains are part of the deal. So why do we endure it? That question trumps the question of pain and suffering. Why does the rose scatter its seeds in the spring? Why does the gardener plant tender young plants into cold soil on a dark and rainy day? Why did Jesus go to the cross? Because of the hope. The hope of new life, eternal life. The hope of something better. The hope of an entire landscape filled with warmth and beauty. The promise of a bountiful harvest.

Thus Jesus went to the cross. He endured the winter of suffering, so we can enjoy the spring of resurrection. That doesn’t mean we won’t have struggles here, or questions. It does mean we can courageously rise above them, like the rebellious rhododendron down the street. And maybe we can provide sweet sustenance to nurture a famished friend. Signs of spring are all around us. Sometimes you must search for them, or create them yourself, but they are there. Hope springs eternal. And eternal life brings hope. ©2013 Don Detrick

 

Welcome to my blog!

Thanks for visiting. I’ve been blogging rather sporadically on a couple of sites for a few years. Starting in 2013 I hope to get more serious about regularly posting, and for those of you who know me, I promise they won’t all be twelve page sermons! In time I will add a lot of resources to this new website (www.dondetrick.com), including sermon notes from my thirty-plus year archive of pastoral ministry, notes and presentations from various university or seminary classes I’ve taught, and links to various articles I have written over the years.

My book, Growing Disciples Organically: The Jesus Method of Spiritual Formation (Deep River Books, 2013) will be available sometime in April 2013. I am working on a website specifically for the book and it will feature articles, resources, Bible studies, coaching and mentoring ideas about spiritual growth and discipleship. It should be up and running before the book comes out. Watch for future posts about it.

My wife, Jodi has a new book coming out in 2013 as well: The Jesus-Hearted Woman: 10 Leadership Qualities for Enduring and Endearing Leadership (Influence Resources, 2013). She is also a regular columnist for The Seattle Times, one of America’s leading daily print and e-newspapers. You can find some of her back columns at www.seattletimes.com and then doing a search for Jodi Detrick. You can also find more at www.jodidetrick.com.  Did I mention to you how proud I am to be her husband? Besides being the national chairperson for the Women in Ministry Network (www.wim.ag.org), she is a terrific public speaker and life coach. Most of all, she is the woman I have been married to and loved for more than thirty-five years, and the fantastic mother of our three children and three of the smartest and cutest grandchildren in the world.

As many of you who are friends with me on Facebook or follow me on Twitter know, I love photography. I’ll be featuring a lot of my photos and related posts on this site as well. I’ve had some photos published in our local paper, and last year (2012) one of my photos was a picture of the year for the Sno Valley Star (http://issuu.com/issaquahpress/docs/snovalleystar122712). If you click on the link to read that edition of the paper, you’ll find my photo on page eight.

You can find me on Facebook:  https://www.facebook.com/dondetrick  or Twitter:  @dondetrick  https://twitter.com/dondetrick or at  www.northwestministry.com and I’m linkedin, too!

So let’s stay in touch, and God bless.

Don