Hello friends! A little Sunday afternoon writing extravaganza – or perhaps more of a small digression on the ordinary – and I’m really not sure why I’m writing other than the fact that I do happen to have a bit of time and I felt it would be silly to waste it. Hence laptop open and all that. I really don’t have much to write about but from time to time it’s important to leap headfirst into the chasm without the benefit of any sort of extraction plan. It’s a bit freeing and even beneficial, I would argue, for strengthening the creative muscles that too often can lay dormant as one lazes about here and there. But now, in actuality, I am writing far too many words on nothing as a vacant look begins to grow in my eyes. I allow my imagination to wander afield but now I think I’ve lost her and wherever she is now, I suppose there isn’t any signal. It is a shame, really, when I think of all the wasted moments when I’m driving on the highway and my muse sparks to life. I construct a cathedral of perfect images and the moments that cause one’s heart to stutter in awe and disbelief. But that super structure is ethereal of necessity and given enough time – say, the ten minutes more it takes for me to complete my drive and pull into a parking space – the distractions of what some call real life creep stealthily in and before I know it, I see a puff of smoke upon the wind and pronounce in subdued tones the burial rites for that which may possibly be the greatest creation ever to grace the alleyways of my mind. Now though? I write about all and sundry in part just to drive away the growing dread that I have nothing of worth to say. At least I’m writing I tell myself. At least the words are pouring forth and if no one judges them to rank high in profundity at least no one accuses them of being bland. At least no one says this to my face. Behind my back, who knows. All the comments may be bandied back and forth and perhaps some harsh words on my output may trickle forth from time to time. Yet worse than that of course? The sheer apathy of most and the highest of likelihoods that in actuality no one says much of anything about my work at all. This is of course true and I write these words acknowledging the fact to steel my soul and grimly laugh and acknowledge that even what I love to write here and now does not really have a lasting place beyond the here and now. If I in self-deprecating humor poke at myself and acknowledge my lack of worth or art, does that mean I cry a little less inside? Perhaps. Is it worth it? Perhaps. Still my soul aches to know that I’ve written something beautiful, even if it just once or twice. I doubt I will live to see that day. But let not my bitterness cloud the moment, let not my weeping smear the panes. Instead, I’ll flick on the windshield wipers and allow myself to keep driving forward and I’ll focus on the taillights in front of me as I do my best to escape this pouring rain. Even in the mixed metaphors which clutter my writing it seems I can’t escape my own mediocrity. But to reference my above, is it still not better that I’ve written something? Look up above and see the sunlight breaking through. Do you happen to have a pen and spare piece of paper about you? I’d love to write a quick poem if you do.
Author: James Hogan
New Year’s Eve
she steps over to me and in that way she does
tilts up her head to me and smiles
how can i respond but with a
darling?
i am at your service – what is thy desire?
and she says oh nothing i just wanted
to stand next to you
what can i do but gather her into my arms
even with the many witnesses gathered
around the living room
and not heeding their eyes upon us
i say i know the feeling
oh my darling i truly do
and in my arms her eyes sparkle up at me
and she says wordlessly please kiss me
and in that moment as the clock strikes midnight
i respond appropriately
and a life time later i say the words
i love you too
Babes in Toyland
A lovely day is winding to a close. But not yet. Not yet! Dani and I had a most lovely walk today – 4.5 miles initially up to 19th, back to MKT and then home…and then after a quick stop at home, decided the outside time could not be done yet! We walked down White Oak to Onion Creek and had a lovely porch time talking and soaking in the sunshine and just being together. Oh bliss. Now back home and a lovely little classical playlist in the background and the candle giving warmth and beauty and soon we shall have dinner. But not quite yet. I think I shall pick up my book and read a few words and just lift my thoughts to heaven and praise my God for all that He has given me. Praise be to my Lord Jesus – him who has given me all and called me to know him now and yea even to eternity.
Potter
grey clouds float across early velvet sky masking
the curious eyes who peer down from heaven
and at the kiln site she sits and works
apart from all her peers who sleep even now
the jar lies at her feet and she bites her lip
seeing every flaw again as if for the first time
yet the memories well up in harmony
and she again strips back its layers
peels the skin and gouging deep
will she hit flesh this time? perhaps
but the armor is not superficial
and her target is deep within
again and again she in anguish runs her hands
across the unfinished work
what next she says what next
I am the pot and the pot is me
and her hands show the blisters of fervent effort
somehow still not enough
she drops her hands and her shoulders shake
this jar will never be a masterpiece
if she has anything to say about it
and she drinks a swallow of the contents
of the thermos at her feet
help is on the way she hears in the voice
that floats on the wind
Alpine
Hello friends! Writing on a Sunday evening, as is typical of late I suppose. A few words now, most likely nothing creative tonight as I’d love some nice time to read and reflect and muse and ponder on oh so many things. It’s been a lovely Sunday here. Woke up to the temperature hovering about the 40 degree mark, which made my early Sunday morning walk even more perfect. Turtleneck on, jacket zipped – let’s go! The fresh sunlight warmed my face and the hot coffee that I carried with me warmed the rest of my parts and I breathed deep the winter air as I thought on how good my God is to me his child. I did come back home eventually and of course had to turn on the TV to watch the hockey gold medal match. Although they looked oft overmatched at times, the USA somehow pulled out the victory in OT to grab the gold. Go USA!!! That goalie was a beast, stopping oh so many shots that looked like sure goals in any other game. I have to say, speaking of Olympics, how much Dani and I have enjoyed these winter games in Milan. I do usually enjoy watching all the crazy winter sports of test and skill that are on offer, but feel it’s been extra fun this year! Dani and I enjoyed every night turning on the TV and marveling at the feats on display. Especially enjoyed the ladies’ figure skating – what dazzling skill and beauty intermingled! Big congrats to Ms. Alysa Liu at grabbing the gold – first US ladies figure skating gold since 2002! Also loved seeing Amber Glenn’s comeback skate as well as the marvelous skates of the Japanese ladies. Of course there was more than figure skating – loved seeing the downhill and halfpipe events and even showing Dani the craziness of the biathlon. What better combo than skiing and shooting?? Ah now I’ve gone and spent far too many words on the Olympics. But again…it only comes once every four years!
Back to the Sunday recap. Church was encouraging and beautiful and it was oh so good to worship God in the presence of my brothers and sisters and meditate on the wondrous love of my God who suffered and died that I might live eternally! Following church? Alas a quick work meeting was on the calendar, but after that Dani and I had lunch down the street at Local Foods and enjoyed some yummy sandwiches and even better time talking and being silly and just being together. Then…a walk down to the bridge and back, with the special treat of an ice cream stop at MKT. That may have been the favourite part of my day, sitting at MKT in the brilliant mid-afternoon sunshine as Dani enjoyed her ice cream.
Now, off to decide either to write a few words on something else or grab my book and read a few pages while I enjoy this Sunday night. Peace, my friends. Peace and love.
Simply Yes She Said to Me That One Fine Winter Day
I’m a bit tired and don’t think I shall spend much more time on the computer this day. Leftover sausage and lentil stew for dinner, hurrah! And more Olympics-watching for Dani and I! We shall soon find out who wins the ladies’ figure skating gold! But for now, thought I might as well spend a few minutes of my time writing a bare few words on my latest read.
10. A Haunt for Jackals by J.L. Odom. A great read. As previously reported, read a new book recently (By Blood, By Salt) and was so struck by its uniqueness and high quality that I couldn’t help but immediately source the second book. This is that second book and I am very sorry to say that the third book is not yet available so I must wait for the conclusion (or just continuation?) of this series! Ahhh! But anyways, A Haunt for Jackals was a fantastic book, even if it was even more grim than the first book, if that was possible! This book is a very…how shall I describe it…muddy and bloody book. I think that description is apt. So I read this one a bit slower than I originally thought I would, simply because I had to be in the right mood for it. But once I slipped into the world again with Azetla and Tzal and others, well…the pages just rolled by. The world is so richly textured and the characters feel so real, I simply delighted in the reading experience every time I opened the book. There is definitely trauma in this book, especially with the history of Tzal being unveiled. It was…hard to read at times. Be warned. Still yet, there is beauty in this book. I’m grateful for this book, even though I must confess I was a bit surprised by a revelation at the end that I thought was too obvious to be true! But we shall see what the next book holds. Sad I have to wait!! Oh one more point. This book is definitely more of a military book than I am used to reading. Not sure if that’s my thing, but I have to say the battles were thrillingly told and even for someone as militarily inexperienced as I, was not bored. This author knows how to spin a tale.
Sixteen
A few thoughts on my latest read – not too many words, I promise!
9. Believer’s Baptism edited by Schreiner & Wright. My studies on baptism continue. I found this book recommended as one of the best recent resources on believer’s baptism (or what some prefer to call “confessor’s baptism”) and it did indeed fit the bill. A very solid and comprehensive work, even if the format – each chapter by a different author – did make for a bit of a disjointed reading experience at times. And there were a few chapters which I felt didn’t add much, specifically the chapter on the Stone-Campbell restorationist movement at the end. But there were a few chapters in this one which were indeed well worth the price of admission, namely the middle chapters. Wellum writes a fantastic chapter looking at reformed theology and exploring how the logic of the covenant of grace carries over into a theology of baptism. Also was much interested in and benefited by the two historical chapters, one looking at the writings of the early church on baptism, the other being an exploration of baptism following the Reformation, leading up to the Anabaptist movement. I find it very helpful to more fully grasp the arguments around baptism when one more properly understands the historical progression, and these chapters were very helpful in that regard. Being one who is particularly interested in comparing the classic Reformed view of baptism vs the Baptist view, I appreciated that Wellum fully explored the logic and underpinnings of Reformed theology and how that necessarily results in a theology of baptism that is a bit different than what may be seen in early church and modern Baptist practice.
I fully admit my biases in that I’ve long believed in what some would call Baptist theology, baptism being a sign and proclamation of a reality that has already taken place. This places me full on one end of the spectrum, very much gazing off into the distance towards the Catholic/Lutheran/Reformed camps as I sit with my Baptist brethren. I came to this book predisposed to believe what it sought to prove but I did also hope that it would be a work that was intellectually honest and forthright in both the view it put forth and the views it argued against. I did not find anything in this book to budge my view down the spectrum and if anything, I found my support for believer’s baptism strengthened. While I don’t believe baptism is a first-order issue (few in the Christian world would), I do believe it’s an important issue and one that is sadly neglected too often these days. When we consider that one of the primary commands of the Lord given to his disciples was to go forth and make disciples and “baptize them in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit”, how critical is it that we have a proper understanding of what baptism actually means and entails? I would argue – quite. I also much enjoyed Dever’s chapter at the end laying forth some practical advice and guidance as to how baptism ought be practiced in the modern church, answering some possible questions/dilemmas and being clear as to the function of baptism in our modern day.
I don’t think this book was perfect but I do believe it was a worthwhile read. If anyone would like to discuss this issue with me further, let me know and I’d love to have that chat over a coffee. I have many brothers and sisters who differ with me on this and I love them none the less for that.
A Different Kind of Music
She sits on the porch in the fading light of sunset, a mug of coffee cradled in her hand. She knows it may possibly be too late for coffee but she cares not. The scent of coffee sparks her soul. The darkness draws closer and she looks out over the fields to enjoy the golden softness of the heads of grain before the curtain falls. It is good to rest this night. Her muscles are slowly untensing after the long day walking to and fro and hither and yon. A hot shower will be most welcome shortly, but not yet. Firstly the sunset must be enjoyed for the moment is not to be missed on a night such as this. The yellow light slowly turns to orange and threatens red as the sun slips ever further down the curve of the prairie sky. The clouds hug the horizon promising her very favourite type of sunset, the type where the garments of the heavens drape loosely about its frame. All the better to showcase the breathtaking beauty that is ever present but only rarely shyly seen. But enough of the sunset chatter, she thinks to herself as she breathes deep. She brings her other hand up to the coffee mug and she drinks. The wind blows across the treeless pastures and causes her to shiver. The sun winks and is gone. She lets herself sit a moment or two longer, slowly rocking back and forth in her chair. She plays a finger through her hair about her ear and considers. The thick book on the table next to her calls her name. But first, hot shower and cozy pajamas and then back on the porch to curl up with aforesaid book and a tall glass of something cold and dark. And she may even light a candle. It’s that type of night, a night for the prolonging of the beautiful and a lingering in the light. But first she must move her tired muscles. She slowly rises and turns to the house. Her hand on the doorknob, she looks back one more time to take a mental photograph of the way the porch railing silhouettes against the twilight. The night is not yet over, she promises herself. But now, shower time.
Calvary
In silent mourning and in fearful yearning
I fall to my knees this day and pray to you
For of my sin and in my sorrow I confess
and say plainly of myself I have nothing left
I cannot offer you a gift worth having
I cannot offer you a life worth buying
I cannot live as I should for you my God
for in the shadows of this night I give up
and lay down my burdens at your feet and
look up to the reality of the cross
that you my Lord Jesus hung there for me
and in grim satisfaction declared it done
and now you hang there no longer
for though you died and was buried sure
your divine power proved itself in resurrected life
and now you sit at the right hand of the Father God
eyes flashing forth of fire and promises of love in hand
and someday though your judgement shall be pronounced in earnest
now you cry out come and repent and buy the pearl of great price!
and I want it and I need it and there is nothing else even close
I give up all else and rip my clothes and burn my pride
and tell you that I want nothing more than to be called your own
oh Lord I need you oh Lord I plead you
oh Lord I believe in You and in You alone
I have no other
and now I come to You and in memoriam tremble
and in festive garb I eat this bread and drink this wine
remembering the words you said that fateful night
and say to myself that the life you gave willingly
you gave for such a one as me
in actuality
you gave your life for me
Counsel
What say you to the charge that is laid before you this cold winter night? Dare you take up your own defense, dare you take up your pen in furious denunciation of the rumors that now stalk the land? Your hand shakes in barely concealed rage. You cannot quite the believe the furor that has been unleased. In this modern age the news travels lightning swift, does it not? Even lightning is slower than the venom that has been unleashed in service of your doom. Will you actually try to fight back this night? You put your head into your hands and slowly slump down in your chair before the fireside. Your phone is on the table next to you, it is no use. Anything you see now will be naught but further acid upon the wounds that now etch themselves down your face. Your tears no longer flow. But perhaps there is one who may take up the case. Perhaps he would. Just maybe. You have no strength left in you and no vigor left in your mind. You have been smartly disarmed and in totality unmasked. There is no other option. You raise your head and breathe deep. You look to the window and see the snow swirl gleefully down. Your hand trembles. It is all arrayed against you, is it not? You are not spotless after all. But who may rise in your defense? Who may clear their throat and speak out against the lies that bind? Who may take your cause for their own? It would be perilous, possibly life threatening. Yet there is one who may just step into the breach. You raise your hand in silent supplication. A knock sounds at the door.
Something Weird 