God's Grandeur

Andrew Guffey • May 23, 2026

Over the bent world broods

During the pandemic, most of us tried new things, or even just mildly distracting things. To keep ourselves occupied. Two of my favorite preoccupations in the early days of COVID were to watch the back catalog of the Globe Theater and checking in with the latest offering from Sir Patrick Stewart (yes, Captain Picard from Star Trek: The Next Generation). During the pandemic he took to recording himself reading one Shakespearean sonnet per day. (I'm sure he did not think he would get through all 154 when he started!) At any rate, in April of 2020 I remember seeing that April is apparently poetry month. So, I recorded a short video of me reading a poem and posted it to Facebook. A small, very pandemic sort of thing to do. But if you've never taken the time to recite poetry out loud, even if only to yourself, you really ought to give it a try. (And before you try to tell me poetry isn't for you, I'll just say I think poetry is for everyone.; it just takes a little getting used to.) Anyway, the poem I read was "God's Grandeur" by Gerard Manley Hopkins (1844-1889). And it is worth revisiting in the light of Sunday's celebration of Pentecost.

I love this poem so much. Hopkins is fun to read, full of unexpected turns of phrases which tumble almost out of control, but as it turns out, were extraordinarily well-wrought. Try to say this line out loud, "Why do men then now not reck his rod?" and you'll see what I mean, I think.


Part of what I love about this poem is its honesty before both divine mystery and human cruelty. It is true that the world is charged with the grandeur of God, and also that "all is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil; / and wears man's smudge and shares man's smell: the soil / is bare not, nor can foot feel, being shod." That is, the world we live in is bursting with the Love we call God, and also the world we live in is smeared and mired and we are in danger of becoming unfeeling.


And, Hopkins goes on to say, "for all this, nature is never spent." The world that God created remains beautiful and rich, alive with the hum of life. "There lives the dearest freshness deep down things." In the deep of every thing there is the dearest freshness, there is a life that is not always obvious. Underneath and behind and above and in and through everything is that Joy that we call God. Hopkins here marries two ideas. First, creation is glorious, shot through with the presence of God; it is very good. Second, while the world we see is bleared, smeared, there is reason to hope, because nature is never spent. God's creation does not really grow old, but only ever new.


Which brings us to the last verses and Pentecost. On Pentecost we commemorate the coming of the Holy Spirit to the disciples from whom Jesus had ascended. Or, the Spirit he breathed onto them.. But this Spirit is Christ and is the Ancient of Days, and proceeds from the Godhead through the Son and...where? Pentecost commemorates the coming of the Spirit, which is also to say, the blowing of the Spirit of God among us still. And this is more than a neat religious experience, because the Spirit does not so much come to rest in us and pull us along into its effluence, into the rhythms of God's own breathing. And this is why nature is never spent--because God has not ceased breathing, and never will. Life is constantly being breathed into us, hover over us. That's what Hopkins means when he says "And though the last lights off the black West went"--when all around seems dark--"Oh, morning, as the brown brink eastward, springs." A light glows on the edge of the darkness. And why? "Because the Holy Ghost over the bent \ World broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings." That's an image worth pondering--like a mother hen, the Holy Ghost broods over our world. The Spirit of Life broods over this bleared, smeared, heartbreaking, soul-crushing, blood-letting world, this miraculous, grand, beautiful, glorious world, not as a watchful predator, like a falcon or eagle, but as a mother: with warm breast and with ah! bright wings. The Holy Spirit mothers the world into what is good and true and beautiful, and hovers over it to protect it and to sweep in the light that may seem to us to have faded.


After all, the world is charged with the grandeur of God.

By Andrew Guffey • November 1, 2026
This Sunday, all are welcome to join us for a morning of worship and fellowship. Whether you are with us in the sanctuary or joining from afar, your presence strengthens our community. Our service is at 9:30 a.m. We warmly welcome those who cannot attend in person to join us via our live stream.
By Peter Trumbore • October 26, 2026
"From ghoulies and ghosties, long-leggedy beasties, and things that go bump in the night, Good Lord deliver us!" This very old folk prayer, which has been tied to both Scotland and Cornwall, used to hang on the wall of my childhood home, and it often comes to mind for me at this time of year. A little trivia -- the first known publication of this prayer was in 1926 in a volume titled "The Cornish and West Country Litany," but it is thought to be far older. That it can be traced to regions of the United Kingdom that are quite distant from one another may be a testament to its antiquity. Anyway, we're right up to the climax of what some call "spooky season," the weeks from the end of summer up until Halloween, which this year falls on Saturday. Apparently this idea of "spooky season" is a relatively recent development, becoming popular on the internet as a way to talk about stretching the adult of fun of Halloween from a single day of dress-up shenanigans to something akin to the more well-established holiday season we're now rocketing toward. This is a far cry from what I recall growing up, where more than a few of the local churches in our area very actively sought to discourage observance of Halloween, labeling it a pagan celebration of witchcraft, devilry, and superstition that was incompatible with being a good Christian. Of course that didn't really dissuade anyone. But with the holiday just a few days away, I thought this would be a good opportunity for us to talk about the nature of spooky stuff, ghoulies and ghosties, and other such things. So tell us, what do you love about Halloween? How do you mark it? Does anything give you pause? What do you think about this claim that you can't be a Christian and still participate in or enjoy Halloween? Finally, what do you make of that old Scots and Cornish prayer? What real fears do you think it reflects? And what might a modern version look like? Join us for the conversation tomorrow evening, Tuesday Oct. 27 starting at 7pm at Irish Tavern in downtown Lake Orion.
By Andrew Guffey • October 25, 2026
This Sunday, all are welcome to join us for a morning of worship and fellowship. Whether you are with us in the sanctuary or joining from afar, your presence strengthens our community. Our service is at 9:30 a.m. We warmly welcome those who cannot attend in person to join us via our live stream.
By Andrew Guffey • October 18, 2026
This Sunday, all are welcome to join us for a morning of worship and fellowship. Whether you are with us in the sanctuary or joining from afar, your presence strengthens our community. Our service is at 9:30 a.m. We warmly welcome those who cannot attend in person to join us via our live stream.
By Peter Trumbore • October 13, 2026
Some weeks inspiration hits and we stumble onto a single topic that has enough going for it that our Tuesday evening conversation revolves around it entirely. Some weeks, like this one, we take a different approach. Tonight, rather than chew on one big idea, we've got a couple of interesting, but generally unrelated questions to animate our discussion. We'll take them on one at a time, in no particular order, and see what develops. Nine years ago New Yorker cartoonist David Sipress drew a cartoon with this caption: "My desire to be well-informed is currently at odds with my desire to remain sane.” Do you experience this tension in your own life, and if so, how do you deal with it? Are you more interested in buying things, or experiencing things? How far will you go to experience something for the first time? What is an example of that? Are you a thrill seeker? An adventure traveler? Something else? Lutheran pastor and writer Nadia Bola-Weber said this: "People don't leave Christianity because they stop believing in the teachings of Jesus. People leave Christianity because they believe in the teachings of Jesus so much, they can't stomach being part of an institution that claims to be about that and clearly isn't." What is your take on this? Do you agree with her? Why or why not? Podcaster Joe Rogan: "Jesus was born out of a virgin mother. What's more virgin than a computer? If Jesus does return, you don't think he could return as Artificial Intelligence? AI could absolutely return as Jesus." OK, is he off his rocker, or do you think he might be on to something? If all else fails, what's on your mind this week?  Join us for the conversation this evening, Tuesday Oct. 13 starting at 7pm at Irish Tavern in downtown Lake Orion.
By Andrew Guffey • October 11, 2026
This Sunday, all are welcome to join us for a morning of worship and fellowship. Whether you are with us in the sanctuary or joining from afar, your presence strengthens our community. Our service is at 9:30 a.m. We warmly welcome those who cannot attend in person to join us via our live stream.
By Peter Trumbore • October 5, 2026
It escaped my notice, so perhaps it escaped yours as well. Back on August 31, the lauded poet, farmer, essayist, and deeply influential thinker Wendell Berry died at the age of 92, in the place he loved best, his farm in Kentucky. Over the years, several of our conversations have been inspired by or touched on Berry's ideas and writings. While Berry has influenced countless Christians through his poetry and fiction, he described himself as a "bad-weather churchgoer." In the preface to his collection of sabbath day poems titled "This Day," Berry explains it this way: "But I am a bad-weather churchgoer. When the weather is good, sometimes when it is only tolerable, I am drawn to the woods on the local hillsides or along the streams… In such places, on the best of these sabbath days, I experience a lovely freedom from expectations — other people’s and also my own. I go free from the tasks and intentions of my workdays, and so my mind becomes hospitable to unintended thoughts: to what I am very willing to call inspiration.." One of the things this quote brings to mind is how important the concept of "place" was in Berry's work and, more importantly, the way he saw the world and how he sought to live in it. Way back in 2017, we talked about the idea of place, with Berry as our guide. "Belong to your place by knowledge of the others who are your neighbors in it ..." This is a very small portion of Wendell Berry's "A Poem on Hope". In his poem, "The Want of Peace," reprinted in the illustration above, Berry writes: "I lack the peace of simple things. I am never wholly in place." So in our conversation this week we're going to revisit this idea of "place," of finding it, belonging to it, and perhaps losing it. There are many ways we can think about this notion. Where do we find peace? Where do we find God? Where do we find ourselves? Where do we find our people, or our purpose? Join us for the conversation tomorrow evening, Tuesday Oct. 6 starting at 7pm at Irish Tavern in downtown Lake Orion.
By Andrew Guffey • October 4, 2026
This Sunday, all are welcome to join us for a morning of worship and fellowship. Whether you are with us in the sanctuary or joining from afar, your presence strengthens our community. Our service is at 9:30 a.m. We warmly welcome those who cannot attend in person to join us via our live stream.
By Peter Trumbore • September 28, 2026
You're probably aware of this already, but for years now, we've been hearing that Americans in particular are suffering from an epidemic of loneliness. Which is different from simply being alone. I think we're all aware that it is perfectly possible crave alone time without feeling lonely, and to feel intense loneliness even when surrounded by people. Sometimes this can be a result of things that are out of our control. But often, it's the choices we make in the name of convenience that lie at the heart of this. Journalist Gabe Bullard's new book, "Against Convenience," argues that our pursuit of ever faster and frictionless experiences comes with invisible costs, and that we unthinkingly accept those as the inevitable price we have to pay to make things easier, Reviewing the book in The Atlantic , writer Julie Beck argues that many of those costs are social. Beck writes: "Once you open your eyes to the tradeoff between convenience and community, you start seeing it everywhere. It’s more convenient to ride a Peloton bike at home alone than to go to a spin class full of other sweaty bodies (whom you might end up chatting with). Zoom meetings make working with distant colleagues much easier, but aren’t very socially nourishing. The gig economy is rife with this bargain. Ubers and Lyfts replace rides given by friends and trips taken on public transit. Delivery replaces meals out at local restaurants and time spent in stores of all kinds." Sometimes, she continues, the whole point of an innovation is that it allows you to do something in isolation that once required interaction with others. Think self-checkout at the grocery store, or the "quiet ride" option that Uber introduced. One of the things we regularly talk about in our conversations is the importance of community. It's why some of us come to church, or, for that matter, Pub Theology. But I think we all also recognize that we engage in this tradeoff of convenience over community all the time, and in all kinds of ways. So that's what we're going to talk about in our discussion this week. Thinking about your life, your-day-to-day, how do you experience this convenience vs. community dynamic? Sure, when we're streaming a new movie in our living room, we're trading that for sitting with a bunch of strangers in an actual theater. Or when we get our meals or groceries or other purchases delivered to our door we get to spare ourselves the hassle of interacting with wait staff and cashiers, or dodging around other shoppers blocking the cereal aisle. But what about the impact of convenience on the relationships we really care about? And what is the impact of avoiding interaction, not just on ourselves, but on society?Finally, how much convenience are you willing to give up in order to build, or rebuild, or sustain community? Join us for the discussion tomorrow evening, Tuesday Sept. 29, starting at 7pm at Irish Tavern in downtown Lake Orion.
By Andrew Guffey • September 27, 2026
This Sunday, all are welcome to join us for a morning of worship and fellowship. Whether you are with us in the sanctuary or joining from afar, your presence strengthens our community. Our service is at 9:30 a.m. We warmly welcome those who cannot attend in person to join us via our live stream.