fifth row baptists

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Hello friends! A sleepy Sunday post is in order, methinks. And as matter of fact, I think this post shall be mostly just me rambling about books. Because of aforesaid mentioned sleepiness, I don’t think this shall be a long post. But as always, we shall see! Be well, one and all.

53. Thank You, Jeeves by PG Wodehouse. Absolutely fantastic. I have heard of Wodehouse and the Jeeves stories before, of course. I knew they were a part of the British literary canon that I was remiss in reading and that I would need to remedy such at some point. Thankfully, due to a fortuitous encounter in a remarkably well-stocked book section at a Goodwill, I decided it was time to read my first Wodehouse and this was it. I was not disappointed. The humour was top notch. Of course humour is subjective and I’m sure some would bounce off Wodehouse. For me though? Perfection. I wish I had half the wit and verve of Wodehouse – I’d read line after line of writing that simply crackled with absurd hilarity and wonder how on earth he managed it. If you like absurd off-the-wall ridiculousness married with near-perfect prose, I think you’d enjoy this. I know I did.

54. The Holiness of God by R.C. Sproul – A book that grabs you by the collar and simply won’t let go. I’ve read this once, many years before, and I recall how much this one gripped and shook me. Reading it again now, I marveled anew at the holiness, grandeur and glory of God. I am grateful for this book of Sproul’s, one that does not apologize for the God of the Bible, the God who is proclaimed in all its pages and of whom creation shouts in chorus. Sproul is unapologetic in ascribing a place to God that is far separate from the place reserved for the rest of creation. This book feels at times as if it was written in a time so different from our own, a time when the other-ness of God was not as alien a concept as it seems to be in this age in which we now live. Of course this book wasn’t written that long ago – 1985 – still yet it seems as if the God Sproul preaches would be anathema to the majority of so-called Christian teachers in this day and age.

We at times seem to spend all our time crafting a God that fits our idea of goodness, justice and love – a God that we feel comfortable with and whose ideals mirror our own. This is idolatry, pure and simple, and Sproul calls that out. He doesn’t quite wade into all the depths of ontology and epistemology, yet Sproul does ask that we cease from demanding that God can only be God if he fits our pre-conceived notions of what God ought to be. How often have we heard or uttered the phrase – “I could never worship a God who…” Instead of screaming our rights into the void, perhaps we ought ask the question – Is God real? And if so, who is He? And what is my response? This is spadework and not always comfortable. And I’m not saying Sproul is hand-holding us through this journey. Instead, Sproul simply and faithfully discusses the God of the Bible, the God as revealed in both specific and general revelation, and explains who this God is and why he is worthy of our worship.

At the end of the day, the way we live our life is governed by who we see God to be and who we see ourselves to be. And Sproul clearly and concisely draws back the curtain and shows us the tiniest of glimpses of the reality of the God who made all things. Sproul is just a man and all too fallible and so of course this book is not perfect. Yet it is one that drove me to my knees as I consider what it is that I live and breathe in a world made by a God so utterly holy that to gaze upon Him would utterly undo me. Who am I, a jar of clay and oh so foul and depraved? And yet also am I not one crafted in the image of this God I long to know? There’s a mystery there – how can I be made right and gain communion with this God who seems so far from me? Has God spoken to us and given us a way to be right with Him? The name that is above every name is spoken by my heart and I tremble. I raise my hands and drop any claims I have and bow the knee to the One who made all things. This book is one that I need to read again and again. God is God and I am not. Remember this. Remember this.

55. What Does It Mean to Fear the Lord? by Michael Reeves. A wonderful little pamphlet walking us through the concept of the “fear of the Lord”. This can be very confusing, to be sure. I’ve had conversations with people who refuse to believe that Christians should “fear the Lord”. And part of that is likely due to the inability of the English language to properly define this concept, this idea of trembling joy and awe and love that comes face to face with understanding who God is and what our proper response to Him is. This is a very little book, but Reeves does a masterful job of walking through what fear of God is, and what it isn’t. The fear of the Lord is not a cringing fear that drives us from God in our hatred of who he is. Instead, the proper fear of the Lord is a recognition of the nature of God and the proper response of humility and love that draws us closer to our God. I feel this is a ongoing thread in my reading of late but I shall state it again. God is God and I am not. Let us remember that, and as we understand ever more who God truly is, our fear of Him will be that fear which spurs on a delighted awe and love as we humbly bow before our Creator. A great little read, heartily recommended.

56. Theo of Golden by Allen Levi. This book frustrated me at times. There are some beautiful little moments and I greatly admired the themes of the author and what he attempted to point towards. It is rare to find a modern book which preaches such themes of Christian love and humility and it made me glad to see such praised in this book. There is also such a wonderful focus on the worth of every person and the idea that all of us have a story that is worth knowing. I was under the impression this was a secular book and was pleasantly surprised discovering the Christian themes that lay at this book’s core, even identifying Theo as a little Christ-figure and one who attempts to point us to that light, that fountain, that Jesus that is the only source of life and truth. Yet. Apart from all that, this book was a hard read at times. I admire the author’s aims, but the book wasn’t always an easy read, at times overly twee, at times overly artificial and manufactured. This felt like a book with too many cardboard cutouts, not enough real people. I often found myself struggling to make myself read a few more chapters. And the major revelation at the end of this book does some major damage to the book’s theme of selfless love for the other and make one wonder if the author truly realize that his attempts to tie up all loose ends into a tidy knot actually undercut some of the strongest themes of his tale. Ah well. I enjoyed parts of this book. Unfortunately the book wasn’t particularly well-written and I think at times the author spends too much time telling, not enough time showing. Maybe some people like the didactic hammering on the head. For me, not so much, even when I tend to agree with the author’s belief system. Main problem at the end of the day? The author’s skill was not quite up to snuff to tell the story he was attempting to tell. Still though, I admire the attempt.

Worship

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The sky lightens. There is music in the air. The trees quiver in anticipation and the woman raises her face to the eastern sky in silent prayer. It is good to meditate on what has come and it is good to look forward to that which shall be. Even so all the more, it is good to with trepidation step across the grass towards the dunes that rise. The woman trembles at the slight chill she feels this early morning. Soon enough, the sun shall dispel the cold and she will shed her jacket to feel the warmth upon her skin. But for now? She hugs herself and continues to think on the blessings that are hers. What a gift this morning is!

No sound but the song of gulls and gentle crash of waves. No duties but gratitude and singing the lines her heart aches to say. No fear but that holy awe which thrills her bones as she considers the love which overwhelms her frame. She now sits upon the sand with her knees drawn up to her face and she over and over again whispers praises to the Name. Glory be to God the Father, glory be to God the Son, glory be to God the Spirit, praises praises to God the Three in One. What a joy it is to worship this day in this cathedral divinely made. Yes no better place to worship than this plot of holy ground, floors of rich sand and ever moving waters and arched ceilings of whirled oranges and purples, pillars of cloud and flame. It is good to be here in this place. The woman sings the doxology once more. Her face glows with holy fire.

Of Titles and Trophies Most Desired

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Humility, fortitude, faithfulness – are these yet prized virtues in this modern world? I think of what it is to sacrifice oneself for the good of another. While at times self-sacrifice may be lauded in a movie or on the written page, it is seen as something only necessary at the point of last resort. What does it mean to daily place others before oneself and daily kill the selfish desires that plague one so? This is slow, plodding work. One step after another, through the mud and with great effort and with the realization that quick results are most certainly not forthcoming. Instead it is the building of a foundation for a tower that one may never live to see. My metaphors begin to be mixed, I know. But I am weary. I wish that I could of a sudden see myself transformed into a beacon of blazing light, the journey complete, the road ended, my witness sure and complete. Do I point to someone beyond myself? I hope you see me and know for whom I stand – a disciple of Jesus Christ, a man in the gap, a watcher on the high tower. I fear that at times my jersey is a bit too muddy and that my actions are anything but honorable. Thankfully there are better clothes I have been given, a robe of righteousness not my own. Still yet I do strive for faithfulness. May those precious words someday be said of me, those words that I can at times scarce bear to imagine without tears filling my eyes. “Well done, my good and faithful servant.” For now, I walk forwards, even if at times at a bit of a zig-zag. The path goes ever on and on. I walk to the crest of the rise and see the grey of the sea spread out before my aching eyes. A gull wheels overhead. To either side, I see a multitude. I am not alone. The sky opens and a bright light and a trumpet sounds and I fall to my knees. One day all shall see. One day mine own eyes shall see. Behold the Lord of all the earth. Behold my Jesus.

Honeycomb

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the forest meadow calls to me
in all its sweet wildness
in all its raw simplicity
so i heed the summons
let’s dance amidst the butterflies
let’s soak up the last of summer’s sun
perhaps you hear the thunder roll
and wonder at the storm resplendent
but please my love don’t tremble
i’ll do my best to keep you warm
we sit on a log at the end of years
fingers interlaced we talk of this and that
perhaps you’ll turn to me and smile
rain on canopy above goes rat-tat-tat
today you’re soaked in autumn’s tears
tomorrow perhaps you’ll turn to me and laugh

Towards Dawn we March ever So Slowly

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Hello friends! A few words on a couple of books. I shall not be overly verbose this day, I swear.

51. The Wise Man’s Fear by Patrick Rothfuss. Oh Rothfuss. Leaving us hanging, are you? As I neared the ending of this one, I felt a few pangs of sorrow, knowing it is most unlikely we get a concluding book to this trilogy. Alas, but still I enjoyed reading this one, even knowing not all the questions shall be answered! I love how Rothfuss writes and this story continues Kvothe’s tale in all its glory and grandeur. I don’t like this one as much as the first book, perhaps partly because I feel this book stumbles a bit when Kvothe leaves the University. The first third or half of the book at the University is a delight to read, even if possibly it could have been drastically cut simply to move the plot along. The University portion really isn’t necessary to the story. But you know what? I don’t care. As someone who loves all the world-building in-between-filling prose of the Wheel of Time, I can’t hate the fact that Rothfuss takes time to simply show Kvothe’s continued growth at the University. My favourite parts are simply the times Kvothe is spending with his friends in all their ridiculousness. More of this. Less high drama please. I wrote a good bit more about the plot but then realised I really don’t want to summarize the whole book and erased all of it. At the end of the day, I do enjoy reading this one, but really don’t like how the author’s view of sex permeates the latter portions of this book and turn Kvothe into someone who it’s hard to root for. I’m much more on Denna’s side by the end of this, feeling a bit hurt and cast aside by the Kvothe she always felt she could count on. Still a beautiful story well told, even if he probably could have used a better editor to hustle along the plot. We may never get book 3, but at least we always have these first two. I honestly don’t really care about all the big questions – Chandrian, Amyr, Lockless box, Four-Plate Door, Kote/Kvothe mystery, etc. Honestly, I think Rothfuss shines most at the small moments – friends around a table at the tavern playing cards…music soaring through the air as Kvothe plays an old song and everyone sings along…Kvothe on a windy night gently conversing with a moon-bound girl. Rothfuss excels at these intimate scenes with characters you care about. I think Rothfuss should just tell Kvothe’s adventures at the University and forget all the rest of it. Would be a better tale, methinks.

52. The Trellis and the Vine by Colin Marshall & Tony Payne. This book is fine. I have had it on my shelf for a while and thought I may as well read through it. I confess I struggle with “church tactic” books and this one was no exception. I know such books and discussions are necessary. And there’s not really anything wrong with this book, per se. I think I just find myself wearied by books putting forth the newest, latest-greatest discovery of how to do church ministry right. I’m doing this book a disservice. The authors are humble and acknowledge the lineage of church-growth trends and fads and attempt to make it clear that due to the multiplicity of church locations, styles and cultures, it is certainly impossible to impose a one-size-fits-all approach on a local church. Still yet, the book at the end of the day doesn’t contain that much that is new. Yes, discipleship is crucial at a local level. Yes, future leaders and gifted contributors should be identified and encouraged. And I appreciate the authors making it clear that all growth in a church (both spiritual and numerical) depends on the grace and power of God. Of course God does use means and the authors are attempting to put forth a strategy of disciple-making that they feel best fits the New Testament context. But at times, it feels as if the authors are attempting to make the verses they cite say more than they actually do. Even so? This is not a bad book. It is important to remember that local churches should attempt to minister to the people in their midst and part of such will be raising up the next generation of leaders. There were a few times I felt uneasy and that the authors were almost implicitly giving permission for church leaders to ignore the weaker and less-than in favour of the “people to watch out for”. That’s not entirely fair and I do understand any leader has to make hard decisions on how to spend their time. Still yet? Books such as this just give me a little twinge of unease at times. I thank God for his work in the church and that whatever the latest trend du jour is, he will continue to build his church. We must not be passive ourselves and we must press forward to encourage and build up our fellow saints. But always and forever, we lean on our Lord Jesus Christ and worship Him. One of the best things a church leader can do is model what it means to be a follower of Jesus Christ and proclaim his beauty and majesty in ways that make it impossible for outsiders to ignore the strangeness and radicality of the church of God. I’m grateful for books such as this that attempt to highlight ways churches have found profitable to glorify Jesus Christ and make Him known. But just know there is no one cookie-cutter way, there is no one tactic that can be deployed blindly in all circumstances and find success. Only through ceaseless seeking of Christ and utter reliance on the Holy Spirit can we in faithful witness strive. We set our hands to the plow and we know we are not alone.

Lighthouse

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Attend to that light upon the horizon, my friend or else-
you know the tales of course
crashing upon rocks and cries of the doomed
fire below and fire above
and on high the keening wail of angels
so what say you so what?
Attend to that light is all I ask
Trust the keeper and keep a firm hand
Dawn comes but not for all
Attend my friend, attend.

Path Meditations

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Why do all my songs of late so often mention that pilgrim path? I like to think of the forest green and beautiful and then that path that winds ever on and on through the thick of the trees and brush to end up on that far shore that calls my name. The path imagery is an old one and indeed one that has been used often throughout the past ages. One thinks of life as a journey from birth to the far unknown and there is no more natural metaphor than that of a path. So I suppose I could say that I am not being particularly original with my creative prose and poetry when I so often go back to that ancient well. Yet sometimes the tried and true is best. There is no confusion when I talk of the pilgrim on the path and the trials and travails that may beset him as he walks on. There is a nodding of the head and an echoing in the heart. We all have walked on paths through the forest before – or at least most of us have, I daresay – and we are all of necessity making our way through life as a pilgrim who comes from dust and will end as dust. So of course. One could use other metaphors of course, and I often have. I like to imagine one sailing on a ship towards that far horizon and that eternal shore. Of course, this is only another angle of the same pilgrimage. We are still going from one place to another, from one time to another. Only the setting and scenery change.

So at the end of the day, as I reflect on the fact that I perhaps use this imagery of a path too often to express the longings of my heart, I come to the realization that I don’t really mind this. I do not believe I am exposing my creative vacuousness. Instead, I believe I am expressing a simple faith. I know I have been created from nothing and though on this earth I may also appear to be progressing towards eventual nothingness, I have a hope that this is not entirely so. Instead, I look forward to the resurrection of the body, a resurrection that is prefigured by the resurrection of Jesus Christ himself, who even now stands in heaven above and advocates for me his little brother. I have a hope and faith that someday I will in my own body stand before my God and with my own eyes gaze upon his glory. This is my song, my salvation!

And so? Perhaps my writing may start with a path, but it is not a path in isolation. There is a destination and a place where the walking stops and perhaps a fire on the beach to welcome me to my eternal rest as I prepare to feast with my Lord God at that wedding supper. I do not walk without purpose. And I do not walk alone.

Extra Time

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Hello friends! Quick post before I move into some reading time here. It’s Saturday evening and finally but finally it’s time to rest. To be sure, it’s been a good day, just quite…errands filled. Took the car in for an oil change first thing, then stopped and saw the guys for a few minutes at breakfast taco place. Following that, back home to see Dani awake! We went for a little grocery store run to pick up all the necessary items for next few days…then back home for taco breakfast. Then? Cooking time! Prepped my green bean and potato salad for church potluck tomorrow. I’m actually super psyched for that one, it’s a new recipe and it should be yummy (red potatoes, fresh green beans, sliced red onions, oil, vinegar, spices & cherry tomatoes). That done, Dani and I decided a rare Saturday gym visit was in order. Drove down to the gym and conquered an upper body session, then up to car shop to pick up Dani’s car (its last hurrah to her great sorrow). Once back home, we drove out again to get some Target time! Wandered the aisles there, ending up not buying anything and then home again, where I have spent the last good bit prepping burritos for tonight’s dinner. Finally, shower and now finally couch and rest. And watching the rest of the Norway/England game. On England! And I am amused, after writing all that, I do feel justified with a nice long reading time. My body is tired, my mind is tired…it will feel good to sink into a book and enjoy some sweet rest time that my Father has given me. I did want to write more and write something deep and encouraging, but perhaps this will just be a newsy update and that’s all and I really don’t have to write anything more, as much as I often feel the weight of all the whirling thoughts and feelings that cry out.

So now? Rest and but still maybe that rest can be found in writing a little something? We shall see. Peace and love, my friends. Peace and love.

Potter’s Wheel

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morning light is sometimes like water trickling down the side of the brick
not quite enough to make a difference
yet beautiful in the way it teases the solidity of the earth
and there is a hello goodbye quality to it if you understand
nighttime stillness broken with the mumble of a tired greeting
spoken by the girl in her bright red hoodie
eyes spark in recognition of the immortal soul that passes
and drip drip drip falls the light from heaven
upon my upturned face and i drink it up

Seashore

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Good morning, friends! A Monday dawns and light breaks upon us in waves and soon the heat shall follow and we shall be reminded that yes indeed, summer is in full bloom. I wish I could say I’m grateful for summer’s heat but I don’t know if my gratitude for creation’s glory can stretch quite that far. Ah I suppose I could talk myself into it somehow. Summer is a good and proper season and the heat does make one sigh with wistful longing in anticipation for autumn’s arrival, so there is that. Summer – it’s here. July is a month that we know is going to be hot and that is that and no use complaining about it, so I shan’t.

But instead what I shall I use these few minutes before work to talk about? I don’t know, really. I opened this page knowing I had a few minutes so why not write something? I suppose I could say I’m just grateful for the time I had this morning to read the Word and meditate on God’s goodness to me. Even with not quite enough sleep last night (watching the scintillating England/Mexico game – England pulled out an all-time classic win in Mexico City – on the Lions!), I still was able to roll out of bed prior to 5am and get a shower, make coffee and then sit myself down and give myself some nice uninterrupted time to read.

Psalm 46, Proverbs 6, a series of depressing but inspired chapters in Jeremiah – oh how convicting it is to read such and oh how it makes me feel I ought be praying more for mercy for myself and our community and nation – and then beautiful chapters in Luke on the ministry of our Lord Jesus Christ. Got to read Luke 7 and the story of Jesus with the woman who was a sinner. One of my all-time favourite passages and one that never fails to bring me to a halt as I consider and ponder what my Lord has done for me. Oh how beautiful it is to think on the fact that Jesus has forgiven me all my sin. I have been forgiven much. I have been forgiven everything!! How great then ought be my love? Utterly convicting to feel how often my love is cold and dry and how often I fail to be constantly praising my Lord and God for what he has done for me. I need to spend more time meditating on the wonder that is my salvation and my forever communion with my God. What a glorious thing it is to consider that I am a child of God. I have life with God and I have it to the full. I abide in Christ and in him I find true rest. This yoke is indeed easy, this burden is indeed light. In Christ and in Christ alone do I have rest for my soul. It is good to sit at the feet of Jesus this day. Oh how I long for that someday far off trumpet call and that moment when the horizon blurs with light as I see the last dawning and behold the consummation of all things as creation is made new. Oh how I long for that day when the sky quivers and the clouds break and my Lord Jesus Christ stands before my resurrected frame. For now, I tremble in dust and ashes. Someday though, I shall see my Lord with my own eyes, even though now my flesh and my heart are oh so prone to failing. Thank you, Lord, for taking me by the hand each and every moment. Please Lord, lead me to glory.