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.

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

Blizzard on the Bayou

There is a sentiment within me that swells when there is the prospect of snow. Then quickly I suppress such, for the adult portion of my brain recognizes the stress and hassle that necessarily accompany a blizzard in the south. Yet still! Snow in south Texas, who would have thought? I imagine that someday I shall tell my children of the day I survived the great blizzard of ’25. Rewind that. I sound like an old person already. Of course, if I want to avoid sounding like someone who has lived through far too many winters, I should probably also cease from using phrases that refer to ancient video technology. Back to the snow. Shall we indeed be so blessed with a wintry wonderland? Perhaps. We’ll wake up in a few days and I shall do something I’ve not done in years – peek out the window in the early morning hours to see if there indeed is a white blanket over all. And you can bet I’ll then gulp down some coffee and put on my hiking boots and wool coat and warm hat and gloves and tramp out down the lane to feel the fresh fallen snow underneath my feet and marvel at the beauty that is upon us. Of course it is hard to fully enjoy this thought when I also worry in the fullness of my grown mind of the effects of such an unusual storm upon this land. We do poorly enough with hurricanes and heat waves – how shall this city’s creaking infrastructure stand up to such as the icy blast that in providence descends upon us? The city planners and power providers assure us that the grid is hardened and prepared. One way to find out, eh? At the end of the day I wait and pray for I know these crazy weather patterns are overseen and held together by one who is far more powerful than I. I still hope to see a little bit of snow a few mornings from now. And hope the lights don’t flicker so I can enjoy my hot coffee in peace as I look out upon a winter scene. Even so I sit in silence now grateful for such little things as running water and steady heat. I pull up my turtleneck a little higher and snuggle into my favourite couch. Time to hunker down now and ride this thing out.

Lucidity

i like riding the underground when i don’t have anywhere
i particularly need to be
and i can relax and look at everyone else
and write the stories of their dreams
for some of them hold shopping bags
and some look at their phones
once i saw a woman cuddling with her husband
as they talked about their newfound home
and i once read over the shoulder of someone
texting with her best friend
talking about her trip back to London
and how she wishes she could stay in France
oh yes i know i’m a bit too nosy
but aren’t we all to some extent?
we are interested all in one another
which doesn’t stop me getting annoyed when
the young man muscles past me to get off
but then i laugh as i recall how i do the same
and all the times i’ve almost missed my stop
for i just like writing stories in my head
little snippets of each person’s day
i wonder if anyone is writing stories about me
a girl with a red winter hat
and oversized hoodie that goes to her knees