Author: James Hogan

Remember Fall

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A few book reviews this Saturday afternoon.

33. Gentle and Lowly by Dane Ortlund. An encouraging and wonderful book meditating on the heart of Christ and the wonderful mercies of God towards those sinners who he calls into communion with himself. There are many thoughts I have on this one. In some ways, it is a very simple book, focusing on the unique bent of God’s heart towards compassion and mercy (particularly brought to light in the chapter on God’s natural work of mercy and his strange work of wrath). In other ways, this book is quite a difficult one to read and understand, precisely because it is a book seeking to dig deep into the nature of God and to comprehend his attributes and very heart. And God is God. And we are not God. And to fully and completely understand God is beyond us. Hence there are times when my mind fuzzed as I sought to grasp the realities of God the author was attempting to unveil. And there are times when I was slightly wary of some of the concepts laid forth, especially as I was worried that a focus on the “gentle and lowly” nature of Christ’s heart would undermine the divine simplicity of God. I still fear I am not quite intellectually equipped to grasp all that I read. Yet? This book was wonderful at pointing towards Scripture (and other authors) and what they reveal about the nature of God. I simply loved all the authors (predominately Puritans – and Jonathan Edwards!) quoted and I will confess that probably most of my favourite parts of this book was reading these quotes. The author did do a good job of pulling these quotes into a cohesive whole and bringing to my mind thoughts about God that aided in my understanding and worship of Him!

I will need to read this one again. It is one of those uniquely wonderful books that combines both devotional thought and deep theological study. The chapters are short enough that one can read one in a few minutes and spend time meditating on what has been read. Yet there is enough deep theology packed within that I never felt the author was being overly simplistic or trite. If anything, this book undid some of my expectations (that this was just a light fluffy book about the love of Christ) and I’m most grateful I read it. I still believe there are some theological implications that I haven’t fully understood and I worry there are some who could read this book and come away confused about the nature of God, yet is that not the danger in any book written of God? I appreciate this book as being one that encourages us to think more on the heart of God.

34. A Severed Wasp by Madeleine L’Engle. A book that left me feeling conflicted. L’Engle writes gorgeously and to read this book of hers is to be swept up into a story of numerous characters that feel, act and speak like real people. Yet there are also parts of this book that simply irked me and felt a bit artificial at times. I love L’Engle usually so it pains me that this book just didn’t work quite as well for me (and I seem to remember I liked it more when I first read it!). Possibly reading it right after A Small Rain was not a good idea, as now that first book seems unmistakably superior to this one. I do appreciate this but do not think I’d read it again if it were not a sequel to A Small Rain. That book felt fresh and artless whereas this one feels a bit…overdone. I will echo thoughts I remember having the first time, that it does feel a bit as if Katherine Forrester (a remarkable character!) is almost too above reproach in this one. This book almost feels hagiographic at times! Indeed, she becomes a confessor to practically every character in this book, which felt a bit odd, but I think was a deliberate choice by the author. This read, I also realized some of the flashback sequences that revealed Katherine’s life post Small Rain had parts in them that bothered me much more this time. Surely this is just L’Engle sharing realities of life and attempting to show the costs of suffering, yet still…there were choices made that made me sad. No more said of that now.

Anyways, it seems like I’m being entirely negative and I feel a bit sad for that. There were elements of this book that I loved. L’Engle as always is remarkably good at showing the small everyday parts of life that so many people gloss over. I love the friendship between Katherine and Emily and how Katherine does such a good job of caring for Emily in her pain. I did love the large cast of characters, even if there are some broadly drawn ones that do not perhaps survive closer look. And of course, I love the reflections and meditation on both music and religion, and what it means to worship God. I do not think I fully agree with all of L’Engle’s conclusions, but I did appreciate her attempting to explore her theology in a bit more depth. Also – there is a cynicism and world-weariness in this book that I perhaps did not catch the first time – maybe it is just what comes with being a more mature author, yet still I did not appreciate as much on this read. Is this a bad book? No, it’s not. But definitely one that is nearer the bottom of my personal ranking of L’Engle’s works.

All My Songs are Written in Darker Ink than They Used to Be

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How wonderful it is this morning to ponder thoughts of beyond the veil. I confess that my hope is elsewhere and these storms near at hand are little more than temporary annoyances. My mind drifts. I am on the sea, the bark I am in bobbing on the seas that just now start to calm. Sails hoisted, we move towards the east and towards the lands for which our dreams crave. The sun is hot and water supplies little, yet we worry not, for we know the promises of that which is to come. My lips are cracked yet still I sing heaven’s songs. We believe that we are almost there and so we prepare our baggage and check one more time the scraps of leather engraved with our invitation. A cool breeze sweeps across the deck and we exult. Faster our ship glides across the sparkling waves. What is that which pokes its head up from the horizon? Is it just a mirage or is it land? Or perhaps a bit of both depending on who you ask. I see an island, a curved rim of sand protecting a bit of greenery and then a mount reaching up and higher into the sky. My heart shivers in a way I cannot quite describe and which the actual presence of this island cannot quite explain, at least not in any words I can write now. You would have to see it to understand. But see? It’s just over there. I am still on this boat upon this chaotic sea, but not for long now. I hear a voice calling. Peace be still. My hope is met with reality as I now see a figure upon the beach walking slow steps upon the sand. There must be a fire laid close to hand for smoke rises in a thin stream just beyond the curve of beach. The sea is too shallow now and I think I must jump off and swim the remainder of the way. One more leap of faith and then all I am shall be swept up in that for which my soul longs. I don’t mind getting wet. Just a bit and then I shall be home.

A Mighty Fortress

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i would like a dollop of whipped cream this morning good sir
perched on top of my coffee and promising bliss
and then i hope for that wonderful moment
where the dark black bitter swirls with the manna from heaven
and on my tongue it sings
yes please
and across the counter he hands to me the cup and smiles
take this with our compliments you come here often enough
enjoy this on your drive and think of us here toiling
and come again some time just to read and chat
and listen to the morning murmur
i’ll make you another coffee just the way you like it
a new pot from fresh ground dark roast beans
strong and bold and piping hot
and yes with extra whip

After Midnight

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Monday starts slowly and for that I am grateful. And while I shan’t write long, I do want to pen a few simple words of gratitude for that which I have been given. This past weekend has been simply lovely, full of quiet and uninterrupted times of rest and also yes – conversations with dear friends and simply the enjoyment of being with others whom my heart loves. Yesterday was a lovely time at church in the morning – worshipping our Lord and hearing from his word! – and then following got to go to the classic Las Locas for lunch with all the friends to see John and Emily (and little Charlotte!) who were visiting briefly! Oh how wonderful it was to see John again and though we didn’t get much time to go deep on all the things, it did my heart good to see him again and see the work of the Lord in the life of him and his family! Later on, Dani and I got a wonderful walk (even though shorter than usual – I guess we can’t walk five miles every day!) even though summer has most certainly made its arrival known and I sigh to know that it will not get any better over the course of the next few months. Alas for summer in Texas. And after the walk and a quick little dinner, me and Dani went over to Kaitlyn’s for a movie night with her and Klayton! It was such a sweet time being with them and enjoying movie and quality discussion and simply being in the presence of good friends. Oh how blessed am I!

And I could write more of the past weekend and the thankfulness in my heart as I consider all that God has done for me and all the blessings he has given this undeserving one and the little simple pleasures of this weekend that made my heart sing (such as long stretches to read, the making and subsequent eating of epic lasagna dinner, watching classic BBC Pride and Prejudice with Dani for the first time and yes, all the walking and sweating and enjoying standing on the bayou bridge looking out over the quirky beauties that Houston has to offer…), yet I fear my words can’t do justice to the joy that fills my soul. For I consider the manifold and abundant nature of the mercies and compassion of my Lord and I know that I can never fully comprehend the infinite wonders of who he is yet that which I do see now in a faint sense is enough to send me to my knees in stunned adoration.

One More Day

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Sometimes I wish to write of sweeter things and of all that I have loved and known. Sometimes I wish my dreams were always pure and full of heaven’s scent. And sometimes I wish that my fainting heart never longed for anything more than to more perfectly know God and to dwell with him in peace marveling on his divine love and simplicity. What a mystery it is at times to think on the fact that God is three persons yet one in very essence – my thoughts cannot fully comprehend such and I do confess at times the more I think on God and his manifold attributes, the more I realize how little do I understand the reality of his nature. Yet not always are my thoughts and dreams of such – too often do I think on tawdry things, on the mud beneath my feet that I swirl my boots in to delight in the patterns that arise. Too often do I let my heart race and fret over those worries that are so little and small in the grand pattern and I can’t even control them anyway yet my heart weeps and sometimes I don’t even know why. Why am I sad and why do I cry? What is wrong with my life that I lose sight of true reality? Ah for this body that is yet shackled to this broken earth. Both of us broken and both of us groan. I do long for heaven. I don’t long for a place and I don’t long for mere relief from this weariness. I long for my Lord. I want to be with God.

Forever Next Door Neighbors

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red blossoms upon her cheeks
as she exclaims in tones of ecstasy
see here i left only a few hours ago
and now the kitchen sparkles
but more than that
a pot of sauce on the stove
and i see a freshly baked loaf of bread
and some garlic butter
and a wedge of cheese and is that wine
well i do declare
i suppose it just may be dinner time

Thoughts of Dutch

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A Friday evening in which all should be remembered except for the little thorns here and there which may be safe to be forgotten for though those thorns in the moment seem to prick so awfully bad and perhaps even a drop of red drip drops split splatters and the shocking color against the green of growing life underfoot is trampled after all soon enough it is a moment past even though in the moment it was present in such a way that it seemed to take up the enormity of infinity stretching from pole to pole though now look back where does the time go though the scar may still persist it is in the past now and can be smiled at as a memento of that for which we struggle along this pilgrim road which seems a bit long now stretching towards the skyscrapers that reach with broken claws up to the heavens oh smile down upon us they cry and have mercy upon us when we remember to ask but for me and my house we will serve the Lord and that is my cry this night for mercy has somehow already been shown me for yes even that red that dripped and dropped down that crooked tree was somehow from eternity past destined for one such as me and in actuality me and for that may this song be remembered until the new dawn of the eternal comes.

What is this Feeling

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A little book review this rainy Sunday afternoon.

32. Wandering Stars by Tommy Orange. A book that’s simultaneously an easy read while also being very likely the most depressing book I’ll read all year. And yes before everyone chimes in, I’m well aware that depressing books can and often are worthwhile in how they point out the horror of all that’s been and was and still is right under our noses. Still though? Doesn’t mean these books – or this one in particular – are quite the type of books I love to read. This book is a rough one. It frankly unveils the horrors of both addiction and loss of cultural identity as it explores the aftershocks and still reverberating effects of the systemic erasure of Native American life and culture throughout the United States. Sometimes one would wish that we lived in a world where such horrors were not perpetrated by those in power, yet we cannot close our mind to history or deny that such events ever existed. And so I’m grateful for books like this that seek to show through the sweep of history and might-have-been personal narrative that the brokenness of this world is not so easily fixed as some might believe. I also found reading it a troubling experience, a lot of content warnings here, as the saying goes. I really do hate reading books with addiction themes. And…pretty much every single main character in this book struggles with such. I don’t think I could read this book again. Yet still – I did breathe a sigh of relief to see signs of hope at the very end of this tale, a hope that points to something better beyond the curve of the road ahead. As much as addiction and loss are all over this book, there is also just a bit of recovery.

And beyond the addiction themes, there are many discussions of identity and what it means to have a certain cultural identity. What is cultural identity and what brings such? Is it blood, is it cultural heritage, is it geographical longevity and ties to a certain piece of land? Is it familial connections or is it merely knowledge and being connected to that which came before? We all long for an identity as such – we wish to be known and valued for who we are – but who are we? It is difficult for me to overmuch critically analyse this book as I’m aware there are many questions that I am ill qualified to answer. This is a book written from a cultural minority viewpoint and thus questions are raised that I have never had to face sheerly due to the – at least outward – fact that I am in a cultural majority position. Does this mean I have the luxury of not thinking or caring about my cultural and/or ethnographic identity? I would argue part of my apathy in regards to such lies with my belief in Christ and that my true identity is found in being a Christian. Such tags as “race/colour/nation” are not ones I resonate with and find them less than helpful at times. Yet still I must and do recognize it is easier for me to shelve those labels as I don’t have to live in a society in which I am a minority. I must remember this. I don’t think this is a book I shall revisit and likely one I will not keep on my shelf. Yet. This book spawned a lot of thought and I am grateful for such, as much as I did not always agree with the author on some of the answers he pointed towards. I am grateful for the author sharing his perspectives and yes, even a piece of his story.