Author: James Hogan

Simply Yes She Said to Me That One Fine Winter Day

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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.

Reflections

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A few more words of the non-creative variety. I wanted to mention that I am heartily enjoying the electro-swing that is the current music du jour here at Antidote. Also – I didn’t mention in my previous, but it is now a week since Mom was here in Houston staying with Dani and I. I will not spill all the ink discussing our various adventures here but simply wanted it to be in the chronicles. May it be known that it was a time of love and laughter and all the wonderful talks and smiles and prayers. How precious was it to show her a bit of our life here in Houston, the life that our God has given us this year of 2026. Sometimes one knows they are blessed and richly loved, but to then have the chance for someone (such as Mom!) to come and visit and see it all displayed, one’s breath catches and one is ever so thrilled all the more as that life shines forth in technicolor dazzling in all its glories. Praise to the Lord the Almighty!

Big Air

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Hello friends! At the coffeeshop this gorgeous mid-February day! It is such a nice day out – one of those rare Houston days that causes one to rise up and take notice and nod slowly in approval – that it is really almost a shame to sit indoors at the moment, but I do crave some writing time. And I don’t feel too guilty for wasting the beauty of the day since it was well enjoyed earlier today. Had my traditional early Sunday morning walk down to the bridge and it was simply lovely breathing in the fresh air and observing the fresh-washed surroundings after our downpours last night. And then after church, Dani and I thought that this weather simply demanded that a picnic be adventured. And so it was. We grabbed some poke bowls from HEB and proceeded on our standard MKT walk, ending up at a little picnic table where the poke was enjoyed in the open air, with the people walking by serving as entertainment and the various conversations and children’s shrieks serving as our background music. Bit better than a couch in front of a TV, mm? It was beautiful, all the more though because it was with the Dani and mid-afternoon on a simply sublime day. Can my heart repine? I think not.

So now at the Antidote and I am enjoying sitting in my tall hard-backed chair and typing furiously away on this keyboard as I raise my head now and again to observe the patrons that sit around me. There’s an older couple sitting in the central couch, enjoying the Sunday paper and a magazine as they now and again whisper smiles to each other. The woman’s long hair is a gorgeous silver and the man looks quite happy with the little comments he tosses her way now and again, her breaking out into laughter at his last. I look forward to the day when that is Dani and I! Then the majority of the rest of the people inside here are mirroring I (or am I mirroring them?) and on their laptops, some with headphones/ear buds, some with the naked ear exposed for all to see. Scandalous! And I sit here, writing about all and sundry as I sip slowly on my smolderingly hot decaf americano. Yes, decaf. It’s approaching 5pm, after all! Now? What more shall I write about? Well I think this chatty post has about served its purpose, warming up my fingers and stretching the thoughts of my muse to the point where it is about ready to burst forth into spontaneous song. Pardon for what may follow. But for all of you wherever you may sit and whatever you are doing, thanks for reading a little bit of my nonsense. Peace and love.

These Happy Golden Years

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A roast chicken is in the oven. Obviously with the obligatory potatoes, carrots and onions in the pan alongside. About to sit down on the couch and relax a bit with a bit of reading (Haunt of Jackals, let’s go!). And oh how lovely this day has been to relax with Dani and Mom, walking to and fro, enjoying various patios and delighting in all the talking about all the things! A movie night later on, methinks. And though there are little trials and tribulations that float and hover here and there, I still now just breathe deep and thank my God for what He has given me this day. I am supremely blessed far beyond all that I could imagine in my wildest dreams. Now I go to find a pretty piece of music to play as I take up my book and read. Peace and love, my dear friends. Oh how I pray this night you all may truly be at peace.

Notes

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It’s a Tuesday night. It’s warmer. Why. I want our nice cold winter weather back! Alas, I suppose I will just have to grin and bear it. For now. So while I bemoan the unseasonably warm temperatures and pine for winter once again, I will write a few words on my latest.

7. The Winds of Change by Isaac Asimov. I’d forgotten I’d read this before and pulled it off my shelf thinking it was a new read. By the time I had a funny feeling that I had indeed read this before, I was already about halfway through and decided to just finish it! And it…was fine? Either I’m starting to outgrow Asimov a bit in my advanced age or this is one of his weaker collections. Either way, the short stories were reasonably entertaining in the moment, but not much more than that. Some of them were downright clunkers! Ah well, still better than a lot of sci fi being published at the moment!

8. By Blood, By Salt by J.L. Odom. What a stupendous book. Oh how I do delight when I find a book that so thoroughly surprises me as this one did! I bought this one off a recommendation and kind of forgot about it until a few days ago when I was perusing my shelves looking for a new read. Saw this and shrugged and thought why not try it? It looked a little grim and daunting and I wasn’t entirely sure I was in the mood for such. Still yet? It won my heart. I shall attempt to not spoil this one as I really feel much of the beauty of this book is in the discovery. But it is a fantasy, I guess you could say. A work set in a place and time not quite our own. Yet there are similarities – obvious and not disguised ones – to cultures and personalities of our own human history, and while I first wondered if it was perhaps a bit too pat in its appropriations, I soon found myself marveling at the deep and intricate world the author had constructed. This may be a debut novel, but the writing feels confident and self-assured. The author knows where she’s going with this. One of my only qualms is that this book is not the end! I have already sourced the next book and eagerly await it arriving so I can drop once more into this world. Some may think her themes and touchpoints too obvious, yet I feel they work. I do wonder where she’s going with this and I’m pleased that I can’t quite tell. I get whiffs of some of my all-time favourites (particularly some resonance to Till We Have Faces) and I’m frankly a little shocked that this is the author’s first published book. The writing is grounded, detailed and feels utterly real. The characters are a bit foreign at times yet…with the world and history that they’ve lived, is that not surprising? I mentioned at the start, but this is indeed a grim book. Not much light-heartedness, quite a bit of violence and trauma. If you’re looking for a bloodless adventure, this is not the book for you. Yet sometimes the shedding of blood is necessary, is it not? I can’t wait to read the second and see how the story of Azetla continues. Stunning work, truly.

MKT

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He walks down the sidewalk in time to a tune only he can hear. It’s been in his head, in his thoughts, in his dreams and even now if he tries he can hum it to drown out all the other melodies that strive for supremacy. He sweeps out his boot across the grass that springs up before him and he halfway skips across the street. The half-broken neon sign beckons him onward for a tasty sugary treat. But not today, old friend, not today. Instead he hums those bars he heard a few hours ago at the opera and thinks of the life that he calls his own. There are little prickly bits here and there of course and it’s easy to snort and roll one’s eyes at the perky hellos he’s given on any given day. Yet rather wouldn’t it be better to dwell on those things that are miraculous in and of themselves? The moonlight glancing upon the surface of the bayou, the cold air giving cause for wearing turtlenecks, even yes those bare branches that testify to the possibility of coming spring. Isn’t his life rather swell? He raises his eyes to the heavens and sighs at the impossibly perfect clouds that float afore his gaze. He walks on down the sidewalk and lifts up his thoughts in prayer. A fellow traveler walks from the other way and meets his eyes and so he offers up a bright hello! A genuine smile replies.