I have never been a fan of Rap music, not only because I struggle to experience it as music, but also because the lyrics I’ve heard are generally not very good (putting it kindly).

Having said that – I’ve recently been exposed to a Christian Rap artist of the same spiritual stripe as myself and my homies. His names is shai linne.

You can learn more about his thinking and music on his blog and website

Down cathedral-Thought to be the burial place of Saint Patrick

“This magical world, though full of adventure and surprise, is no longer full of dread. Rather, Christ has trodden all pathways before us, and at every crossroads and by every tree the Word of God speaks out. We have only to be quiet and listen…This sense of the world as holy, as the Book of God – as a healing mystery, fraught with divine messages – could never have risen out of the Greco-Roman civilization, threaded with the profound pessimism of the ancients and their Platonic suspicion of the body as unholy and the world as devoid of meaning. Even Augustine, whose synthesis of pagan and Christian attitudes…could have come nowhere near Patrick’s originality.” (Thomas Cahill, How the Irish Saved Civilization, pp. 133)

I see his blood upon the rose

And in the stars the glory of his eyes,

His body gleams amid eternal snows,

He tears fall from the skies.

I see his face in every flower;

The thunder and the singing of the birds

Are but his voice – and carven by his power

Rocks are his written words.

All pathways by his feet are worn,

His strong heart stirs the ever-beating sea,

His crown of thorns is twined with every thorn,

His cross is every tree.

(Thomas Cahill, How the Irish Saved Civilization, pp. 132-133)

It was Patrick’s Christian mission that nurtured Irish scholarship into blossom. Patrick, the incomplete Roman [because his kidnapping and slavery interrupted his formal Roman education as a British aristocratic boy], nevertheless understood that, though Christianity was not inextricably wedded to Roman custom, it could not survive without Roman literacy. And so the first Irish Christians became the first Irish literates.  (Thomas Cahill, How the Irish Saved Civilization, pp. 150-151)

The reputed burial place of St Patrick

Clonmacnoise monastic settlement, County Offaly, Ireland

It was Patrick’s Christian mission that nurtured Irish scholarship into blossom. Patrick, the incomplete Roman [because his kidnapping and slavery interrupted his formal Roman education as a British aristocratic boy], nevertheless understood that, though Christianity was not inextricably wedded to Roman custom, it could not survive without Roman literacy. And so the first Irish Christians became the first Irish literates. (Thomas Cahill, How the Irish Saved Civilization, pp. 150-151)

Ireland is unique in religious history for being the only land into which Christianity was introduced without bloodshed. There are no Irish martyrs. This lack of martyrdom troubled the Irish, to whom a glorious death by violence presented such an exciting finale. ..the Irish had to think up some new form of martyrdom…The Irish of the late fifth and early sixth century soon found a solution, which they called Green martyrdom…leaving behind the comforts and pleasures of ordinary human society, retreating to the woods, or to a mountaintop, or to a lonely island…to study the scriptures and commune with God. (Thomas Cahill, How the Irish Saved Civilization, pp. 151)

What followed is the dramatic beginnings of monasticism that was spread by the Irish throughout Christendom in the following centuries. Irish monasticism became one of the most important elements of the Christianization of Europe.

The Irish monasteries were far more than retreats from the world for holy and pious pursuit of God. They became the places of greatest learning and literacy remaining in Christendom following the almost complete eradication of western literature by the barbarian invasions.

St. Brigid

The Irish monastics were famous , not only for their scholarship and literature, but also for their hospitality. The table grace associated with Brigid’s monastery says:

I should like a great lake of finest ale

For the King of kings.

I should like a table of the choicest food

For the family of heaven.

Let the ale be made from the fruits of faith,

And the food be forgiving love.

I should welcome the poor to my feast,

For they are God’s children.

I should welcome the sick to my feast,

For they are God’s joy.

Let the poor sit with Jesus as the highest place,

And the sick dance with the angles.

God bless the poor,

God bless the sick,

And bless our human race.

God bless our food,

God bless our drink,

All homes, O God, embrace.

St. Brigid’s Cross

Since Grace was born I looked forward to giving her a “Hope Chest.”  It seems like something dads should do. But more than that, it is something that I have wanted to do to tell her how proud I am of her as a person, and young woman and someone that I know will be a wonderful wife, mother and grandmother. She has diligently prepared herself for her future as a homemaker, and I have every expectation that she will be a woman of greatness.

Amy suggested that I write a poem for this gift giving event.  What you see below is not so much of a poem as poetic thoughts. I love you grace!

My Treasure

Great as all creation,
Are the treasures of God your Father,
With humanity the crowning glory.
We, His Covenant People, are His special Treasure.
Has He not promised to give us His best?
To open before us His good treasures – This is His pleasure.
Rain from the heavens, blessing on all the works of our hands,
To make us the head of the nations,
Giving us whole salvation and joy,
In love, to judge our sins, and vindicating us before our enemies.
All of these and more are laid up in store for us.
Unsealed are His treasures for those whom He has called sons and daughters.

Let us treasure up the Words of His mouth,
Greater than all other things necessary or desirable.
Let us rejoice at His utterances, His commands and promises,
As those who have found hidden treasures.
By the voice of Him who loves us,
We gain the greatest treasure of all,
God our Father!

Of all the treasures given to me by God your Father,
You, my daughter, are among the greatest!
Of course I treasure many things:
Some are contained only in my heart,
Others live in my home, While others are born to my children.
Some treasures could be put in wooden chests,
Hung on my walls, or worn as badges of pride in my reputation.
But you, my daughter,
Are a treasure so rare and wonderful,
I have nothing that compares to you.
You are a singular treasure,
Exceptional and unique in the world.
Who among the beautiful daughters of proud fathers,
Has such a desire to please with guileless trust,
Displaying rowdy joy and depth of empathy and concern?
You love with loyalty, you stand with truth,
You bring light and joy to me and all!
You, my daughter, are a treasure given by God my Father.

It is time, my dear daughter,
To fill your treasure chest,
With good gifts from God your Father.
To bless those in your world,
In anticipation and hope of the good future,
That is laid out before you by God your Father.
The day will come,
When you will become the greatest of all treasures,
To the one who will be the father of your greatest legacies and treasures.
In anticipation, I call upon you to make preparation,
To make yourself an even greater treasure than you are today!

“Wisdom and knowledge will be the stability of your times,
And the strength of salvation; The fear of the LORD is His treasure” Isaiah 33:6

Christmas Tide, 2009

Heaven Scent

Smell her hair, rub your nose on her check
She is new and fresh
She is asleep and yet full of life
A gift given – and joy received
She is heaven scent

Like a sunny spring morning
With bird song and new blossom fragrance in the air
Hope and expectation everywhere abundant
God promises new life and joy in her cry
She is heaven scent

Too often our eyes are dimmed with concern
Too heavy our cares seem to be
Life sometimes has that musky smell of stale disappointment
And yet – In the peacefulness of her sleep – joy is remembered
She is heaven scent

Heaven is where the King rules
Heaven is where our love ascends
From heaven we look for all our prayers to be answered
From heaven we know that love always comes
She is the scent of heaven – A foretaste of joy’s aroma