Books by Dale Harris

Books by Dale Harris
The Lives of the Saints and Other Poems

A Feast of Epiphanies

Though I Walk, A Novel

Daytime Moons and Other Celestial Anomalies, a book of poems

A Theory of Everything (Vol 1)

A Theory of Everything (Vol 2)

The Song Became a Child

The Song Became a Child
A collection of Christmas songs I wrote and recorded during the early days of the pandemic lockdown in the spring of 2020. Click the image to listen.

There's a Trick of the Light I'm Learning to Do

This is a collection of songs I wrote and recorded in January - March, 2020 while on sabbatical from ministry. They each deal with a different aspect or expression of the Gospel. Click on the image above to listen.

Three Hands Clapping

This is my latest recording project (released May 27, 2019). It is a double album of 22 songs, which very roughly track the story of my life... a sort of musical autobiography, so to speak. Click the album image to listen.

Ghost Notes

Ghost Notes
A collections of original songs I wrote in 2015, and recorded with the FreeWay Musical Collective. Click the album image to listen.

inversions

Recorded in 2014, these songs are sort of a chronicle of my journey through a pastoral burn-out last winter. They deal with themes of mental-health, spiritual burn-out and depression, but also with the inexorable presence of God in the midst of darkness. Click the album art to download.

bridges

bridges
Click to download.
"Bridges" is a collection of original songs I wrote in the summer of 2011, during a soul-searching trip I took out to Alberta; a sort of long twilight in the dark night of the soul. I share it here in hopes these musical reflections on my own spiritual journey might be an encouragement to others: the sun does rise, blood-red but beautiful.

Random Reads

Maundy Thursday, a poem

She shifts her weight uncomfortably
The pitcher and the basin drawing near
Wanting shyly but so desperately
To have him come and pour his clear
And shining stream of servant-hearted love
Across her bashful feet.  
                                      But knowing
How he’d have to see the rough 
And calloused sole—the thought of showing
Him the spot she stubbed her toe
And left an ugly tear that never rightly closed
Is unbearably embarrassing to her—and so
She keeps her feet tucked in and unexposed.
          If only (this her ardent wish) we could have him wash
          Our souls without this all too clumsy touching of our flesh.

A Journey Through the Book of Job (Part 10): Job 38:1-10

The Empire Struck Down, a devotional thought

These thoughts are still sort of half-baked, but the other day I was reading Revelation 18:1-19:6, with its dark, heart-rending lament for the fallen “city of Babylon,” and the whole thing has been lingering in my imagination ever since. 

As far as I can tell, in Revelation, the “City of Babylon” is both a cipher for the City of Rome, and also an archetype for any and all imperialistic city-building projects, from the original Babylon, up to and including those of the present day. “Babylon” was unimaginably rich (18:12), powerful (18:19), luxurious (18:14) and sensual (18:13). Babylon is the hedonism of Las Vegas and the intrigue of Washington D.C. and the wealth of Abu Dhabi rolled up into one, with a bit of Hollywood’s glamour and Berlin’s political weight thrown in, and laced with some old-school Emperor worship for good measure.

Of course, no one ever imagined, at the height of Rome’s power, that Rome would one day cease to be; citizens of Empires never imagine that the glory and wealth and power and luxury of the thing they’ve collectively built will ever fade. Which is why Revelation’s lament is so arresting and so haunting: “Fallen, Fallen, is Babylon the great! She has become a home for demons and a haunt for every unclean bird ... the music no longer plays in her streets, the merchants no longer buy and sell, in one hour all her wealth and glamour and luxury has been brought to ruin ...” 

As far as Revelation is concerned, there is a divinely-set shelf-life on every human Empire-building project, past present and future. One day the things that seem so sure and permanent today—Wall Street? Silcone Valley? The World Wide Interweb?—as unlikely as it may seem—one day all of these things will be what now Rome is: a nearly-forgotten relic of human greatness. 

And if that's true, then those who’ve really heard this lament in Revelation 18 for what it is, will sit loosely to the allure of Babylon, whenever and however Babylon shows up in our lives, refusing to be taken in by her offer of security and luxury apart from God.

Palm Sunday, a poem

Did we, in our all too eager Sunday celebration 
Heralding a king we thought had come to fight
Against the weight of cruel Rome’s oppression 
Miss the real wrongs his coming would set right?

And did we miss the joyful cries of all those silent stones 
In our blind reception of that presumed warrior king? 
Did all our bellowing about Davidic thrones 
Drown out the trees’ applause, the song the hills would sing?

And while serene unbroken colts stood sentry
And rocks stood at the ready, filled with jubilation 
Did we miss the real triumph of his entry: 
A coming of Shalom to heal his suffering creation?

It wouldn’t be the first, or only time we missed it, 
The healing of a cross, in our yearning for a sword, 
Shouting loud Hosannas though we never could have guessed it 
How truly blessed is the One who comes in the Name of the 
                                                                               Lord!


A Journey through the Book of Job (Part 9): Job 35:1-16

It's a Given, a devotional thought


The other day I was reading Revelation Chapter 13, and this simple but powerful phrase kept jumping out at me. It's right in the middle of that very vivid and somewhat unsettling vision of the Beast coming out of the Sea (13:1-10) and the Beast coming out of the Earth (13:11-13), which I take as a highly symbolic, apocalyptic description of the Powers and Principalities at work in the world (those that were at work during the Roman persecution of the Church then and those that are still at work in the world whenever similar atrocities, idolatries and/or imperialistic projects rear their heads...). 

 Anyways, the interpretation of Revelation is a ponderous task, fraught with challenges, but like I say, in my reading this simple phrase jumped out at me: “It was given to him...” Three times John uses the passive form of the verb “to give” in this passage, in regards to the Beast and its apparent authority. In 13:5, “he was given a mouth to utter blasphemies,” and “he was given authority”; in 13:7 “he was given power to make war against the saints.” 

 There is something very subtle but very powerful going on here, because obviously to say that “something was given...” in the passive form like this sort of raises the question: Given by whom?

Earlier (13:2) it’s the dragon (a symbol for the Satan) who “gives the beast his power and his throne and his authority”; but here, it’s less obvious who is doing the giving. If John had meant that the dragon was the giver, surely he would have specified the dragon as the subject of the verb, as he did before. But he didn’t; he doesn’t. And the reason, I think, is because ultimately, any apparent power or apparent authority that the beast (i.e. the Powers, Principalities, Rulers and Authorities at work in this world) may have, whether they admit it or not, is given them by God.

Even if they use that authority idolatrously and blasphemously, as the Beast does in Revelation 13, in some mysterious way, even then it doesn’t change that fact that whatever authority they may have they hold only according to the will or God. And this is good news for us, because it means that, even when evil and darkness seems to be winning, their victory is, in the final analysis, illusory. God is still in control; the beast (or beasts, such as they are) is not and every “beast” from the Roman Empire up to the present day, will give an account, in the end, for the way they used the authority God permitted them to have.

A Journey Through the Book of Job (Part 8): Job 28: 1-28

Going to the Gym with God (Part 9): On Being a Temple

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The other day I was watching some random sit-com on Netflix, and one of the characters made some passing comment about their body being a temple. I think it was in relation to eating junk-food, the reference in question. Someone offered them a bag of chips or some such thing, and they declined, explaining that they weren’t willing to “desecrate this temple” by eating junk.

As a pastor my theological radar started pinging like made when I heard the reference. The character in the show had only meant it as a throw-away line, but of course, there is a profound theological truth underlying the sentiment—and apparently it’s a popular enough sentiment to have made it into the script of a Netflix sitcom—that our bodies are “temples.”

For the secular person, I expect, the idea of the body being a “temple” points to the belief that we are actually spiritual creatures; and inasmuch as the human body “houses” the human spirit—and to the degree that the human spirit is in fact “sacred”—in that sense, and to that degree—our bodies are “temples” for the human spirit.

But I’m not a secular person, of course. As a Christian, when I heard this passing reference to the idea that the body is a “temple,” my mind went immediately to the place this idea originated from, the writings of St. Paul, in his First Letter to the Corinthians, Chapter 6, verse 19: “Or do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have from God, and that you are not your own?”

In the New Testament, it’s not the fact that the body houses a “sacred human spirit,” that makes it a temple, but the fact that, for the Christian, their flash-and-blood bodies are indwelt by God’s own Holy Spirit, and in that sense, and only that sense, it’s fitting to discuss it as a “temple” of God.

This idea is often mentioned in church circles—that the Christian body is a temple of God’s Spirit—and it’s often used as a basis for ethical reflection. Inasmuch as the body is God’s temple, any immoral actions or unethical activities that you might do in your body, or with your body, or as your body, have the inevitable consequence of desecrating the temple.

Paul himself makes this argument in the passage in question. He uses the fact that the Christian body is God’s temple, primarily, as a basis for arguing against sexual immorality—fornication, adultery, prostitution, and so on. The underlying logic of the passage is that sexually immoral practices like these are “misuses of the body” that result in the body itself being joined with the “sexually immoral”; and to the extent that this is true, they constitute a spiritual “desecration of God’s temple” (the body itself) and are therefore especially egregious for Christians to participate in.

Because we are temples of the Holy Spirit, in other words, we ought not to defile the temple by using our bodies in sexually immoral ways.

It’s natural to extrapolate other ethical implications from this passage (though it’s equally easy to slip into all kinds of non-sequitur arguments, too). Since smoking, for instance, is deleterious to the body’s health, it constitutes a “defilement of the temple,” too; so too does drinking, over-eating, or what have you.

At a certain point, I think it’s possible to take this logic in a direction Paul never intended. His main point in 1 Corinthians 6:19 is about immoral practices specifically, and how using our bodies to do things contrary to God’s will is an offense against the Holy Spirit who indwells the Christian body. Whether smoking, or drinking, or indulging in that bag of chips makes one a “temple-desecrator” in Paul’s mind is a bit of an open question.

It’s even possible to take this logic in a direction entirely contrary to Paul’s point. It is possible to get so hung up on the notion that the body is a temple and therefore it must be kept in pristine condition, that we actually start to worship it, itself, instead of worshiping the Holy Spirit, whose indwelling presence is the only thing that makes it a temple in the first place. It’s like going to church and instead of worshipping God, spending all your time adoring the building…

On top of all that, I think a completely honest handling of the "temple of God" talk in 1 Corinthians has to acknowledge that this reference to individual believers being temples of the Holy Spirit is the odd man out in Paul's writing.  Predominantly, he prefers to talk about the entire community of faith being "the temple of God" together. We are only temples individually if and as we are connected to a Spirit-filled community of Faith, which is corporately the temple of God. Fundamentally, the teaching that the individually believer is a "temple of God" personally, I think, is meant to speak to their place and involvement in the community. You ought not do anything that desecrate your "temple" personally, because you are part of a community of faith that corporately has to function together as God's holy temple, and how can you be part of that if your own "temple" is filthy?

So I don’t want to take the Christian belief that the body is a temple any further than the text allows, but in principle, I wonder if there is something to this idea that can help us in our effort to outline a “theology of exercise.” It’s not that because the body is a temple for the Holy Spirit, we better keep it in shape for fear of desecrating it (as though my lack of cardio-vascular fitness was somehow an “abomination that causes desolation); if that’s what you hear when I say that the Christian teaching about the indwelling presence of the Holy Spirit is a building block for a robust theology of exercise, then I’m not communicating well here at all.

But what if we took it in a different direction than that? What if we let this profound truth really touch our imagination: that the Holy Spirit of the Creator God truly did deign to make these finite, fragile, somewhat measly human vessels of blood and bone his home—that he really did dwell with in. How profound an affirmation of our bodies—as weak and given to breaking down as they are—would we hear if we heard that let that truth hit us with perfect clarity: your body—yes that fearfully-made assemblage of bone and skin and flesh and blood and cells and tissue—as strange as it may sound to hear and incredible to believe—yours and my bodies are actually dwelling places for the Spirit of God.

With what joy would you take your next run? With what delight would you sweat it out over your next afternoon at the gym? With what pleasure might you plunge into the pool the next time you’re there? With what grace might you take that next long stroll through the park? What if you really believed it, I mean: that the Holy Spirit of the Living God himself was with you, within you, as you did these wholesome things, and that he was actually delighting to be with you, as you put this, his temple, to such good use?

With Peals of Earth-shaking Prayer, a devotional thought

The other day I was reading Revelation 8:1-5 for my devotions and I had this inspiring thought.

If you’re unfamiliar with the Book of Revelation, let me set the stage.  Because chapter 8 opens with this very vivid scene where an angel opens the seventh seal on this mysterious scroll in the throne room of heaven, and then there’s silence in heaven “for about a half an hour.” After this, another angel, holding a golden censer, comes and stands at the altar in the Holy Place of Heaven. The angel takes incense (which throughout the Book of Revelation, represents the prayers of God’s people), puts it on the altar, and then takes some, now lit ablaze with the fire of heaven, fills his censer with it. Then he hurls the censer to earth, where it causes “peals of thunder, rumblings, lightning and an earthquake.” 

Like I say, it’s dramatic, and highly symbolic, but here’s the inspiring thought: because the incense in the censer was the prayers of God’s people, or at the very least, it was mixed with the prayers of God’s people (v. 3). And if you track with the symbolism here, it would seem that it’s the prayers of God’s people, lit-up with, set-ablaze by, and mingled with the fire of heaven, that's what the angel hurled earthward, and that's what’s causing the lightning and earthquakes in the world. 

There is cause for awe here. However feeble, mundane, lack-luster and all-too-human our prayers may sometimes seem, in the apocalyptic imagery of Revelation, they are the blazing missiles of Heaven’s angelic host, wreaking wonders in God’s epic (though so often invisible) showdown with the darkness.

Faithful, prayerful servant of Jesus, be encouraged today. As far as heaven is concerned your prayers literally have the potential to shake the world and rattle the heavens. Don’t give up or grow complacent in this work.

A Journey through the Book of Job (Part 7): Job 19:1-29