A Friday evening beckons. And this is one of my favourite types of evenings full with all my favourite types of things. I am simple, I know, but there is not much I enjoy than a quiet evening at home in which I can simply sit still and rest. Ah how wonderful it is when there are moments in which there is nothing I simply must do. Instead? We have a quiet evening ahead in which there will be sitting and reading and yes, even some watching of World Cup action (Argentina vs. Cape Verde)! It’s been a long week and though it’s been a good one – I will always be grateful for work and the normal rhythms of the day-to-day – I am so grateful we have reached its end and tonight is a night of rest. Soon enough, Dani shall be cooking dinner and we shall enjoy a hearty meal. But for now? I rest. I have thought of writing and I suppose you could say this present output is a writing of sorts. Not quite as creative as I was hoping. But you know what? That’s ok. Perfection beckons. But in this moment, simple rest is good enough.
Author: James Hogan
Halfway There
Hello friends! A quick little pre-work entry here. I really mean to write a longer one soon, especially as I want to chronicle this past weekend – all the delightful World Cup shenanigans and adventures that Dani and I got to experience together with Brasil in town! – but alas now is not the time as work beckons. I am grateful for the little things today. Thankful for this strong hot mug of coffee that sits before me. Rejoicing in the AC that cools the air inside this office building. Delighting in the relaxing drive in to work in which I got to listen to a sermon from God’s Word and be encouraged. I am even thankful for a good night’s sleep, even if it was of a shorter duration than I would have preferred. And yes, thankful for the ability and desire to write a few words here and let my fingers sweep across the keys and write something not work-related. It is good to sit still for a moment and consider the blessings that are mine. I am thankful for the goodness of the Lord. Peace and love, dear friends. Peace and love.
Creation
I strive to be self sufficient in all things. But even to strive is to immediately admit defeat. Which I do. Cheerily of course. Does one rightly understand the playing field stretching out before us and see the lines marked in white? I turn away from this construction and turn my eyes to the west. There is a path that goes through the trees there and though I’m not quite sure of all the bends and dips, I do know that it ends up at the sea. I follow it and leave behind the clamorous braying of the faceless nameless horde. Perhaps I will meet a companion on the path, I know not. But if so, I will take her by the hand and we will talk of that which we see upon the way and at even-time we shall sit down underneath a gently leafing tree and pull out our supplies and feast a hearty dinner in that good fresh air. I’ll offer her an apple and she’ll give me a few of her carrots and we’ll both feast on sandwiches until our hunger has been whittled down. And then perhaps we’ll lean against the trunk of that same tree and talk of higher realities and the stars that glimmer above and the angels that we know have watched over us since we lay cosy in our mother’s wombs. Then perhaps a silence falls and we shall in our separate ponderings think on what is yet to come. There is something solid in considering the life that has been lived and the life that is yet to come. She may drop a line or two of poetry that bares her heart and in response I’ll bare mine. We are on the pilgrim road and it is good to feel the breeze that whispers through the boughs above. Soon we shall raise our heads and sniff and know the sea is nigh. Soon morning comes.
Hourglass
One strives for the sublime and hopes dearly
it is not only a dream or a mirage
perhaps the feelings stirred mean nothing
of what is real and what is not
a strong possibility one may say
especially considering the heart is fickle
in all things
yet does this mean that there is no solidity
on this rock on which i stand
the faint wistfulness i feel now
at the aroma of fresh-fallen rain
do i dream of the seaside for no purpose?
or is it true that the earth turns
in service
and that the stars sing in harmony
a truer song than i can yet fully understand
i tilt my head upwards and look and whisper praises
and shiver at the touch of autumn’s kiss
of course my dear one of course
now i know what true love is
Father’s Day
Happy Sunday, friends! Hope you are having a most wonderful day wherever on the world you find yourselves at the moment. I very quickly will be transitioning into reading time here since I just realized it’s already past 5pm, but I wanted to write a few words first. Because besides being the height of summer (well, at least the longest day of the year and the point at which I realize that yes, summer is here), it is also Father’s Day! And so thought I’d write a few words about my dad – yes here in a public forum and all. I mean, I write enough about myself that I suppose it shouldn’t be surprising.
How do I start? I’m grateful to have a dad that I love talking to every day. I am now past my 39th birthday and headed to my 40th (which is strange to think on), yet still one of the highlights of my day is in the morning (almost always around 7am or so) when he calls or I call and we chat for a few minutes about life and sundry. It may be about sports or food or family or politics or Scripture or random life drama. It may be for only a minute or two or it may be ten. But nonetheless, it is always oh so much a joy just to get a few minutes chatting to Dad. I treasure these moments much. Because alas, we do not live nearby and it’s only a few times a year that we actually get time together in person, so of course our phone time is precious.
But that’s just current state. I look back at my life and while I could spend far too much time talking about various moments of my life and the people that impacted me, it would not be surprising for me to say that one of the people who’s impacted me the most throughout the course of my life has been my dad. I of course have memories of all the fun things we did together as I grew up – going to baseball games in Baltimore, playing football in the park, going to the beach for vacation and playing all kinds of random games, so many cards games! – but those aren’t the memories I hold the fondest. No indeed, I think on the life my dad lived and the example he has given me. I remember growing up how he prioritized his walk with the Lord – this walking being both literal and metaphorical! – and I remember how he talked about God in such a way that I had no doubt God was real. I remember the deliberate time he took to go outside and walk in the woods and pray to God almost every day when we were small. I remember how he made it a point of focus to lead my family in Bible-reading and singing and prayer almost every evening before we went to bed. At times I’m sure I wasn’t excited about it or didn’t truly understand all that was going on. Yet one thing I did get. It was important to spend time meditating on God’s word and worshipping him in spirit and truth. I had no doubt that my dad loved God mightily. I had no doubt that the faith of my dad was real.
But yes, even as I got older I made the realization all kids someday make. Wait…my dad isn’t actually perfect, is he? Yet even that was a lesson to me. I saw how Dad leaned on the Lord and cried out to him and made God his support and strength even in his very own weakness. I witnessed my Dad’s utter reliance on God in the valley of the shadow of death and his steadfastness even when life was ever so hard. I think of one word when I think of my dad – faithfulness. Throughout the travails of this life, he pressed on to know the Lord and be faithful in the day to day. Oh that has been an inspiration to me and even now it is something I often think on. I have no desire for great things in my own life. I simply want to be faithful to my God no matter what comes. My parents had many trials and tribulations they passed through (and are still passing through!) yet I witnessed my dad’s faithfulness to His Lord throughout. My dad spent the last twenty-six years of his ministry as a pastor of a small church and times were not always easy or fun in this ministry. Still yet? Dad was faithful in the strength of the Lord. And beyond that? I witnessed his love. I sometimes fear my own love is cold and not what it should be and I cry out to God to soften my heart. For I remember the example of Dad and how he loved others – he loved the weak and the downtrodden and the poor, the people in this world who most would despise and think little of. My dad loved them in real and tangible ways, with time, money & emotional energy, seeking day in and day out to show the love of Christ to those people around him who needed it. Oh that I might model such in my own life, loving others as I put their needs before my own!
And wrapping this up, as I know I have written too much already. I see the love Dad has for my mom and for us his children. Even now as I seek to love my own wife, I remember how Dad loves Mom and puts her needs and wants before his own and how he does all he can to protect, honour, love and cherish her in the mundane of the day to day. Oh if I could love Dani only a fraction as well as Dad loves Mom, I’ll be grateful!! And I see how Dad loves us his children. Yes, he loved us in raising and providing for us and giving us fun times. But also? He loved us in disciplining us and training us in the way in which we should go, teaching us the things of the Lord and mightily modeling what it is to be a child of God. He showed us true humility, what it means to be a servant of all. Dad showed me that only through daily going to the Lord in His Word and in prayer would we truly be able to thrive and rejoice in the trials of the everyday. Even now, as I seek to read the Word each and every day in the knowledge of how much it benefits my soul, I thank God that he gave me such an earthly father, one who points to my heavenly father.
Yes, I know that Dad isn’t perfect. He’s a man, after all. Yet by the grace of God, he’s a redeemed man, one who God chose and blessed and called in ministry to serve him all the rest of his days. And so as I think on my own life and recognize my own follies and frailties, I thank God for the gift of my earthly father and how God has used him to bless me so. I thank God that through him, I am reminded of what it is to be a man of God. I lean on my Lord in quiet desperation and in fervent hope look above to what is to come, that day when we shall be with the Lord and see his face. I know that this too is what Dad longs for. We look to that day when we will be in the presence of our heavenly father and we worship together as brothers, forever.
Stanley Says
A quiet night ahead hurrah! It’s been raining on and off all day and while I’m grateful that we don’t need fear a drought anytime soon, I am a little bit tired of the constant wetness, I must confess. Someday soon perhaps the sun will show her face again. I have hopes! Now though I’m grateful for a night in which a hearty dinner shall be enjoyed and Dani and I can sit and be still and rest. So thankful for nights such as this. I would like to do some creative writing at some point, but my brain is starting to tick down and I don’t feel like my reserves have enough left to fire off the creative engines. Ah I sigh. I do feel that writing would do me ever so much good but I just don’t trust myself to write anything worthy. Of course, it’s not always about worthiness, true? I have had this thought before. Sometimes simply the stretching of one’s imagination and allowing oneself to run on down the path is enough, no matter the destination and no matter if the castle fades to mist a few hours down the line. So instead I think I will allow myself to enjoy a quiet night in which my mind settles more comfortably into this achingly wistful mood and my body relaxes on the couch in which I sit. I shall perhaps sip on something cold and let my eyes dance down a page of a favourite book. It is good to rest, is it not?
Splish Splash
Hello friends! Saturday here and it has been a productive one thus far. I am pleased. A nice walk down MKT way when I woke up. Yes it felt like a sauna, but was still lovely to stretch my legs and wake up both in body and mind. Following, a bit of coffee and reading time. And then? Dani and I got to work! It had been far too long since we’d had a good deep-cleaning session, so it was time. She worked on kitchen and bathroom and I moved furniture and cleaned all the long-rooted dust and dirt and debris that had made its home in all the dark undisturbed crevices of our little domicile. A few hours later, we feel tired yet happy. A good morning’s work. Now? I rest for a minute here on the couch and soon we shall gallivant off somewhere in town. But figured I’d grab the spare minute here and write a few words on my latest read.
48. The Name of the Wind by Patrick Rothfuss. Oh I do love this book. I felt in the mood for a comfy and beautiful fantasy recently and realized I hadn’t read this one in a while. Picked it up off the shelf and sunk into it and…yup, every bit as good as I remembered. I don’t care about all the fuss about this being an incomplete series and likely never to be finished, etc. Even so, this book is a worthy read and always makes me happy. Reading it now a good 15 years since I first read it, I can recognize that I’ve grown a bit in mind and soul and there are parts of this book that make me roll my eyes a bit as I recognize the immaturity of the boy at the center of this one. Yet Kvothe is quite young and so I suppose it’s proper? I simply love the style in which Rothfuss writes – it’s lovely and poetic and he has such a way with words. Yes, the tone can be a bit condescending and overwrought at times, but even then I don’t care all that much – the moments and scenes that Rothfuss describes are just so beautiful. There are several sequences in this book that pull at my heart strings almost every time and near on make me weep for beauty. This isn’t a perfect book but I shan’t point out the minor imperfections now. I still love this one and firmly believe it’s one of the finest fantasy works written in the past thirty years. I honestly can’t think of a better one at the moment.
Small Things
Hello friends! Quick Wednesday morning post before work kicks up into high gear. Most grateful that my body was able to wake up so expeditiously this morning and I enjoyed a lovely long time of reading as I sipped my coffee. Read one of my all-time fav passages (Psalm 27! Always oh so encouraging) and also some beautiful words in Isaiah and Matthew. Bonus reading in John Owen Vol. 7 – still plugging away, I think I’m almost halfway done! Though the current material on apostasy isn’t quite as warming for my soul as some of the previous reading I’ve done in Owen, still good and needful words contained therein. Finally rolled on towards the office here and arrived only five minutes past six. I suppose that may be an absurd start time to some, but I do love mornings and getting an early start is never a bad thing. Now I take small sips of the slightly subpar work coffee and prepare for a busy day. I am tempted to sigh and fret as I consider what approaches, yet no. I lift my eyes to heaven and acknowledge the God who is and lift my voice to heaven and thank the God who cares. Let’s think on love and beauty this fine day. Have a lovely one, dear friends!
Thanksgiving
Around the table our voices raise as we sing before we pray. It’s a tradition that some may deride as old fashioned yet for us it stirs our souls and feels only right to worship as we start this feast that’s set before us. Our voices align in unity of purpose even with the voices that are dropped to sound in harmony. My eyes close as the last notes rise and fall and then resolve and then the amen sounds as is only proper when the doxology is sung. Then without even a word being said we raise our hands and join them together. I feel hers in mine and she squeezes slightly. And then my sister on the other side grabs mine and holds it lightly. And we bow our heads and then my father prays to the father of us all. There is thanks given and praise raised and of course mention made of each one of us that around that table stands and of the blessings that have rained down innumerable upon us. I sigh in my heart and let my own prayer rise silent but no less fervent to the invisible heights above where the risen one sits at the right hand of glory. The prayer goes on but only for a few more ticks of the clock, for of course while prayer is good, so is eating and to be sure it’s best to eat while the food is still hot. The amen sounds again and this time we turn to each other and smile and drop hands and pull our chairs back and sit with more or less commotion depending on who is sitting next to who. And then right when my fork is dug in and the perfect bite is about to be raised there’s a voice that pierces through. What about a toast she says? And though a part of me wants to just take a bite, I cannot say a word against so I take my glass of crimson red and raise it high and say my piece. Glory glory to our King. No matter what comes and no matter who goes, no matter the waves and no matter the storm, it is good for us to rest in the peace that comes with knowing our Lord. It is good for us to be here together in this place.
Forty Eight
Hello friends! A Sunday afternoon post here. I am freshly showered and feel cool and clean and it is truly delightful, especially after the last hour I spent outside sweating vigorously in the glorious steam bath that is our weather here in June just now. Not sure why I’ve been in such a walking mood lately, but that’s now two walks for the day. Went for my usual Sunday walk immediate upon waking this morning. The sun wasn’t quite peeking over the trees yet still the humidity bid me a hearty hello. But I did love the walk and it did me good before I eventually came back and had my pre-church coffee and reading time. Then this past hour? I could have and probably should have just sat down and enjoyed the cool of the flat this Sunday afternoon. Instead for some reason I was itching to move and be outside and so I went out and let my legs stride on. A little 3 mile walk, ho hum. But it was good. Chatted with Earnie on the phone the whole time, which was glorious indeed. It has been oh so long since we’ve had a proper chat and it was very much encouraging to my soul. Now? I think reading time approaches. Candle is already lit and flickering on the table and soon I shall turn on some music. No more World Cup games on right now, alas!! I have been much enjoying all the World Cup action lately. Group stages which means multiple games every day and it’s just fantastic! The US team (surprisingly somehow) played a very adequate opener game against Paraguay. 4-1 and 3 points, hurrah! On to Australia. Yesterday Dani and I went went down with Angela and Lauren to a downtown bar that was swarmed with Brasilians and we cheered on Brasil with all our might. Alas they managed only a draw against Morocco. Well, Morocco is a strong team. Or at least that’s what we keep telling ourselves. And last night, Scotland grabbed 3 points against Haiti!! Oh Scotland let’s go!!! Though I don’t have high hopes of them going deep (especially with Brasil & Morocco both in their group), I’m hoping they make it to knockouts. We shall see. But that’s enough football talk for now I suppose. I do love the World Cup though and it makes me so happy that we have so many games upcoming these next few weeks!! Even today, there was a game actually played in Houston! (Germany vs. Curacao) Just wish the ticket prices were slightly less expensive. Ah well. Now I’m off for real. Sorry for all the rambling, maybe I shall write something more substantial in a bit. Peace and love, my friends.
Something Weird 