in the chill of night rests a longing
and my soul cries out to one
who is
and then though the path is narrow
and the briars and thorns threaten
to tear my clothes and rip my skin
i fear not
and look ahead to those green pastures
and quiet waters by the fruited trees
the forever presence of my Lord
even now shimmers the same as i kneel
and consider what it is
to be wholly at rest in him
Month: January 2025
Rowboat
the white chariot rises into the heavens
in the mirror of my dreams
and now my heart hums a new song
as i ponder the deep thoughts
of eternity
and so while i wonder of why and whereof
is the mist through which now
i walk
it is alright
it is ok
for see the lighthouse beckon
see the signal raised
there is more beyond than
mind can fully reckon
there is a land
which shores
i strain to see
and for a moment
in the corner of my mortal eyes
i catch a glimpse
Target Bridge is Falling Down Falling Down
All the books all the books!!
10. Books in Black or Red by Edmund Lester Pearson. Ok so this book was not what I was expecting. It’s more of a hodgepodge of essays on bookish matters than a cohesive narrative and well…I am warned straight up in the author’s note of such. So really it is my own issue that I was a bit caught off guard with how random this book is. But there are some gems here, for sure! If you like books and/or reading and want to read about attitudes towards books in the early twentieth century, well then – you may like this! It is very random though, be warned. Some of the chapters are great, particularly the chapter on the Cary Girls and the Book Shop chapters. Other than that, I think this book is of value primarily for its historical value – we peek from a window into early 1920s America (specifically New York City) and smile as we see the author’s thoughts on dime novels, nonsense tales, literary personae and modern trends. We see sly asides here and there (Prohibition has begun!) and we get a flavor of this author’s very firmly cynical attitudes toward modern ideas of progress. I enjoyed this less than I thought I would, simply because there is much in this book that sailed over my head, as so many of the books and tales he references are…much less known now. Maybe this book hit harder back in the 1920s, I know not. Still though, grateful to have read this and contrary to all the eye-rolling the author would send my way for doing this, I’m likely to keep this book on my shelf purely because of its 1923 print date. Hey, at least I don’t organize my books by colour.
11. The Narrow Road Between Desires by Patrick Rothfuss. I just don’t know anymore, Mr. Rothfuss. I really was excited to read this one – it has been far too long since I’ve read any new material from your pen and I recently discovered this on the shelves of a bookstore in Paris. What! New Rothfuss?!? I must read. Clearly I have been out of the loop and didn’t realize this had dropped. Everything Rothfuss has written, I’ve loved. Slow Regard of Silent Things – purely fantastic and delightful and fully of whimsy and joy and melancholy all. I really must revisit it, now that I think so fondly of my memory of it. And of course the first two books of the Kingkiller Chronicle are superb. Not without flaws, no. But fantastic books in their own right and even if the third book never comes out, I’m ok with just those two on my shelf and I shall re-read every now and again. But…what is up with this Bast novella? Where is the magic, where is the joy? I found the prose strangely wooden and affected. It didn’t have the wonder and joy I remember from the previous works from Rothfuss’ pen. Maybe I have just changed? Maybe if I re-read Name of the Wind I’ll find myself similarly left cold? I think not, but now I shudder at the small possibility. But this book did not do it for me. Honestly as much as I complain about the lacking prose (compared to what I know Rothfuss can do), I think the real problem here is the protagonist. I don’t like Bast. I didn’t realize how much his character irked me until now, but this book did him no favours. I suppose Rothfuss intends to show the wild fae nature of Bast in all his sly glory, yet…honestly? Bast is a creeper. The majority of this book is him hanging around with small children and setting up a situation to spy on a young woman in her bath. Um ok, cool. And maybe this is just me being hyper sensitive and modern in my sensibilities but…I didn’t enjoy witnessing Bast in all his prancing, prying and creepy ways. Not sure if the author entirely realizes it or not. I feel a bit bad because I really do appreciate Rothfuss’ other works. And writing these harsh words feels a bit of a betrayal. But…something is off about this one. And reading his author’s note at the end didn’t help much. Instead of smiling at him providing a touchingly intimate tale about his children and his desire to write a “good” story for them, I just noticed the way he compared the themes in this one to the inferior themes in books such as Narnia, Lord of the Rings, etc. I’m sorry but…no? The truth and beauty in those books are so far above anything this novella could hope to dream of.
Trembling
How precious it is to be a child of God. Sometimes I feel like I know it, sometimes the feeling flees so far away, that I wouldn’t be surprised if it was on the other side of the Atlantic. Most thankfully my status as a child of God does not depend on my feelings. If it did, I would be in trouble most deep and would spend all my time wailing for paradise that has been lost. But praise be to God – I am a child of God by His work and His alone! I could go on and on about this work – what poetic majesty swells within me as I think of the person of Jesus Christ who lived and died and rose again – historical reality that makes the earth tremble in its wake. Jesus is my Savior who draws me to Himself when all else seems to dim and turn to dross. I need not fear for what’s been lost in this world for all I can say is that I have been found. A sheep I am that’s carried home. A coin I am that’s held aloft in joy. A son I am that’s been offered a place at the table once again. Oh one day how I long to break bread and wine with my Savior Lord. And at this table as I look at my fellow brothers and sisters and commiserate of our common failures (Adam, David, Peter – we have things to discuss) but better yet speak with delight of our common salvation, I can only hold back a sob as I consider the fact that this someday moment is not so far as it might be thought. Soon sometimes seems so far removed from this present me. Yet the day when all shall be changed and I shall be changed and I shall gaze upon my Lord’s face in bliss and joy? This day is drawing nearer. How precious it is to meditate on Jesus.
Odds
misery filters
through the bar’s smoky haze
even though the music
proclaims triumphant rage
then again she smiles
what a sight to see
no matter this tawdry locale
perhaps there’s beauty in
this moment between you
and me
Evening Service
in torrents falls the rain
rat a tat tatting on
cathedral roof
and in response candles
flicker
as on our knees we pray
and ask God’s grace
upon us
as we bow our heads
this day
and dust falls from the high up
rafters
as thunder joins in on the chorus
oh Lord forgive our pride
as still in beneficent fashion
the water falls in buckets
Brown Paper Packages
What shall we say then when that joy takes wing and flies across that river? I would love to sit down and discuss in detail the grief that fills me when I consider the memories – oh so many of them – that bring me pain even now as I take them out and rearrange in order to find some modicum of peace. But will you break away from all your flittering and fluttering and come down from your treehouse on high in order to speak to me, your dear and oldest friend? I do not lay claim to your emotions or your heart for God knows you’ve given them elsewhere by this point. I just want to talk, that’s all. But perhaps if we do meet up for a coffee somewhere nice and neutral then just perhaps it won’t be good for you. Perhaps it will just be too much pain unearthed and for what purpose? To satisfy my own weary soul? You’re right – it is for the best that we not talk again. A sigh escapes my lips. I’ll write a dialogue between us all the same and let my imagination provide what I need. Don’t worry, I’ll give you all the best lines. Just like always.
La bohème
A few thoughts on books this fine cold Friday evening!
7. Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain. This book remains a classic for a reason. I re-read this one in order to have proper comparison point for James(finished right before I started this one), though honestly I didn’t really need to. I read this a few years ago and remember being delighted by it and you know what? No changes to my thoughts on it, except to be surprised anew by the power and sparkle of Twain’s prose. He tells a fascinating tale here, a story of a boy in a murderous and insane world. Twain – as he always does – loves to highlight the absurdity of people and he does that all over the place in this one. Books could be written about all the different types of people Twain lampoons. Books could be written about all the different manifestations of barbarism that Twain details. I’m sure they have. Is this book a bit old-fashioned? Perhaps it is. Perhaps it’s not quite as fit for the modern taste and sensibilities of modern days. Perhaps it’s a bit too rambling and a bit too unfocused. I still greatly enjoyed this one. I’ve read books written more recently that read far more alien than this one! Twain has a great ear for dialogue and great insight into the human psyche. Grateful that books such as this have been written. And yes, it is known, but Twain does write some truly hilarious dialogue. I will never not laugh at the conversation about mumps.
8. The Adventure of the Christmas Pudding by Agatha Christie. A fine collection of Christie short stories to read this Christmas season. I haven’t read Christie in a while and this book reminded me how much I love her writing! Some of the short stories are a bit weaker than others, but there are definitely at least a few top notch tales here, worthy of the price of admission. I felt the Marple adventure at the end (“Greenshaw’s Folly”) was weakest of the lot. But seeing Poirot back in action again was very fun indeed. “The Mystery of the Spanish Chest” was great fun and I found myself rolling my eyes at all the tropes pulled out in “The Under Dog” yet somehow still found it a great rollicking read. And not in any of the stories did I quite crack them until the end! I got close a few times, but never quite there. Alas. This was a fun light read and I’m glad I picked this one up. Christie is a master for a reason.
9. The City of God by Augustine. Well, that was a book. I have been reading this one for probably far too long and I feel a bit dazed to realise I have actually finished it. This book is an interesting one to think about and perhaps I will revisit these words in a few weeks once I have more time to let this one simmer (yet Augustine’s words have been simmering around in my brain for the past eight months or so, so maybe that is long enough!). I am glad I read this book, yet I’m not sure I’ll ever re-visit. For this book, more than any I’ve read in recent memory, is a chore. Augustine goes here and there and everywhere. Yes the book is structured. Yes there is a progression. But I find myself slightly baffled at times by the topics that Augustine chooses to spend fifty pages on, and then the topics I would consider slightly more important get barely a page. Editors today would have a field day with this one. I don’t generally consider abridged versions of old books a good idea, but I would not argue with someone who chose to read a (good) abridged copy of this book.
Am I really being so harsh on Augustine, one of the prominent theologians of the Christian world? Don’t get me wrong, I don’t dislike this one. I simply find it a bit unfocused and probably not entirely worth the time and effort it takes to read. In a way though, I think I understand why I feel as I do. In some ways, this book has far more value as a historical work than as a theological one. Yes, there are many solid and brilliant theological insights contained therein. Yes, Augustine’s devotion to the faith and high view of Scripture cannot be denied. Yes, Augustine’s clinging to Christ as the only way of salvation and his understanding of being eternally with God as the prime good of mankind was encouraging, and thrilling to meditate on! Yet, I also realise that this book was (as all books are) a product of its time. This is actually quite a polemical work. Augustine is responding to the philosophies of his day and speaking to the world in which he lived. So this book is enlightening and fascinating as we consider the topics that were of supreme and dire importance to the great minds of the late 4th century. In this day we do not perhaps need pages and pages detailing the natures and deficiencies of the pagan gods who were so quickly fading into irrelevance. But still? This book is important because it shows a great man of God (and indeed a great intellect, though that is of lesser importance) defending the faith and boldly speaking forth the gospel of God to a world that was so lost in its own pride and ignorance. Maybe the pride and ignorance of that long-ago world seems odd to us now, yet we cannot smirk too much. In this present world we are just as proud of our ignorance, though we would not put it in such terms. Anyway! I go off the topic. This book is important and it is quite fascinating to see Augustine discussing the Christian faith in a world that had just known the name Jesus Christ for barely four centuries. And I am exceedingly encouraged to see the faith Augustine has in both the nature and work of God, as well as his utter confidence in the Scriptures. Yes, sometimes Augustine says things with absolute confidence that I would…question. Augustine is not perfect and this book is not perfect. Yet still, there are many times where Augustine humbly confesses that he does not quite know the answer and simply puts forth his thoughts in the wisdom that he knows God has given him. Would that we all in this day exhibit more of Augustine’s humility.
This book is an odd one. I think I’m glad I read it? Would I recommend it? Unsure. At least, if you’re going to read Augustine, read Confessions first. I am grateful to ponder the truths that Augustine expounded, though the journey was messy at times. It is good to think that God indeed has a people that He has called into communion with Himself. We are now truly part of the city of God and someday we shall fully and intimately know God in a way we do not know Him now. For that day we long. We do not know exactly the future or how God shall accomplish His will. Yet we do know that God’s will shall be accomplished and that He shall not abandon the people He has called to Himself. There always has been a remnant. And someday this remnant shall weep and rejoice as the bride beams to welcome her bridegroom. Oh come quickly Lord Jesus. This is a desire that burned just as hot in Augustine’s own soul. Someday I wish to talk theology with this dear brother and rejoice as we look on the face of our Lord, even if now we cannot quite imagine what that will be like. We do know it shall be far better than we can think now. Oh Lord Jesus, come quickly.
Light and Life
I have many thoughts swirling around my mind. Whether they are particularly good or inspired ones is a question for another day. But for the now, I’m grateful for a cosy home and a warm hoodie and a couch that is far more comfortable than it has any right to be. Many other things I can name in this space that deserve the praise, but shall I clutter this place with words too feeble to do justice? I feel now is not the time.
I will say how thankful I am for quiet 6am moments where the house is still and quiet and my mind waking up slowly yet unfilled by a day’s worth of worries thrills to the idea of reading a few pages in the word of God and delighting in truths that have been passed on to us for millennia and in caretaking of these truths I partake in worship as I ponder the wonders of the Holy God who has called me and calls me into closer communion with Himself day by day. And while at times it is tempting to spend time reminiscing and chronicling the past, my best thoughts in this morning hour are ones that look towards heaven. The past is blessed by God and wondrous enough. But what does future bring? Whispers of eternity fill my dreams and I tremble. Does your heart ache to know the joy that comes with seeing our God face to face? Mine does. I dwell on the promises of God and the peace that fills my heart through salvation that been granted me through the dazzling word and work of Jesus Christ my Lord. My eyes lift to heaven and my mind thinks of the eternal future that even now stretches before my slow and feeble feet. My flesh and my heart do fail. How good it is to be near God.
City Folk
calm before the blizzard
walking to and fro
up to 19th and yale
and then back down again
we go
shall we brave the bitter wind
yes let’s go to target
and then on the way stop and
pray
and put a warm winter bonnet
on our friendly neighborhood
sunflower
may it last the night
as for us now hand in gloved hand
homeward now
we rejoice!
for hot dinner and honeyed tea
and look forward to the morrow
to see what our God
will bring
i’ll take snow any day
as long as power stays
and we have lots of
heat