I wanted to dance down to the seashore and look at the moon lit path across the waves. Yet the sky was stormy and thus the moon was hid and so why bother I told myself. But sometimes it’s lovely to walk down the beach in the pouring rain. The tears from heaven testify to a greater love than one has ever known and if I cry no one needs to know. For truly in a day and age such as this sorrow seems to be written on every face and I cannot wait at a bus stop without hearing some sad tale. Is the testimony of the current moment different from all those moments that came before I wonder. Or is it just a fact that all the moments from the past have been piled up in just so a fashion and in a moment when a match has been lit and dropped the bonfire pours smoke towards heaven in living analogue for the ephemeral nature of our collective memory? I think this is close to the truth. And thus I read and write and spend far too much metaphorical ink attempting to memorialize the thoughts and dreams of a single specimen of individuality. For reading links me to the past and present cries of man in ways that pluck the heart strings of my soul and reminds me that my thoughts are not so solitary as I sometimes think. Yes I take pleasure at times in feeling unique in my mode of expressing how I feel. Reading the words of others shakes me up in a way that’s needed and show me that I am not that special after all. Well, I am special. But not at the expense of the beauty of my fellow brothers and sisters. Remember that, remember the sacred witness of my brother who walks past me on the sidewalk and that he too bears the imprint of the divine. Remember that, harken to the true nature of my sister who rings me up at the grocery store, that she too points up to heaven with the very fact of her existence on this plane. I write and I write and I write. Oh I can’t help but write as I feel I burn up when I am not and that these words that pour out of me may be silly posturing, mere leaves on the breeze, yet still they are mine and mine alone. Only one other holds my hand as I write, and his hand is a scarred one. The scars on his hand remind me of divine love. I tremble as I think that this reality we see now is only a shade of the true. Someday we will see in brighter colors and hear in more vivid tones. Someday we will sing in purer voices and as I think on this now I tremble imagining my someday home. I consider those who are my true family, not just those who bear the resemblance because we have a common creator, but those brothers and sisters true who confess the truth of life and death and our resurrected God and cling to that common hope that someday all shall be made new. Why do I sometimes break down in silent tears when I ponder what it is to cross the ford to the other side and read of those brothers and sisters who have done so before me crying in joy at what lies ahead. It is far better than anything here, as has been so often said. Not for the absence of the sorrow that is now ever present in this tainted world in which we live. That is a piece, but only a small one. Rather I look forward to a shared meal with the one who has never stopped holding my hand. One day some day soon I pray I will break bread and drink wine with the one who was broken and bled for the salvation of my soul. Imagine that! I will be with my Lord Jesus and he will hold me even as now he knows me and finally I can truly say I’m home. Some day. Until then, I’ll treasure these walks on the beach in the light of rising sun. When shall the day of consummation be? I do not know. Only one does. But for now I’ll write these words and seal them with a kiss. See how the clouds break. See how the gulls wheel across the sky.
Tag: faith
Morning Jazz
I think I should post one more book review because well…why not right? And I shall finally be caught up! At least for the moment that is.
60. The Story of Christianity – Volume 1: The Early Church to the Dawn of the Reformation by Justo L. Gonzalez. Church history has been calling my name lately, especially with so much reading of various Christology works and pondering on the growth and development of Christian thought. I knew I would pull this from the shelf and I finally couldn’t resist. It’s been some time since I read this one – believe it was 2015 when I first read it. I appreciated it then, especially for the insight into church history and the many details that I had never heard of until I read this book. Rereading this one, I found myself a bit more aware and knowledgeable of the broad strokes, but still found myself both encouraged and fascinated as I read. Not at all a book that will bore you, I found this one a page turner and one that I eagerly sought to read whenever I had a moment! That may say more about me, who knows. Anyway! This book – while massive – still felt a tad underbaked at times. It’s really more of a survey, which I suppose makes sense. How else are you going to pack 1500 years of history into one volume? Still many chapters I wished for more details and more development and this really only piqued my interest to find more books on the various characters and chapters of history that you’ll find in this tome. But I suppose I shouldn’t quibble too much. I would call this a very suitable primer to Christian history and I’m very glad I read this. Already have volume 2 on my coffee table ready to begin!
Subway Dreams
Some book thoughts this Friday evening. Be well, my friends.
57. God The Son Incarnate by Stephen Wellum. A wonderful text on Christology, meaty enough for any theology nerd yet still quite readable for a layperson such as myself. This book took a while to get through, but it was never a chore or struggle. I much enjoyed this one and it was oh so good for my soul to reflect on the person of the Son and dwell on his beauties and glory. I appreciated the author starting this book with a survey of the history of Christology and analyzing the change of paradigms up to the present day and making it clear how our epistemology will affect how we understand the person of Christ. The author is very grounded in a biblical epistemology, which I’m sure will annoy the modern rationalists, yet I appreciate the author taking the time to delve into the importance of epistemology and then proceeding into the wonderful subject of the person of Christ, starting with the testimony of the Bible itself, then proceeding with the unfolding of our understanding of the the divine Word as we work through the church age (and the various Christological controversies that resulted in a more clear and vivid picture of Christ – his person and nature). I will most certainly not start discussing some of what I learned. Suffice it to say it was extremely interesting, enabled me to have a better understanding of the history of Christology, and aided me in better acquainting myself with the orthodox understanding of who Christ is. I did not find anything to disagree with, but I did at times face statements and perspectives that were difficult to comprehend. I would be lying if I said I perfectly understood this subject (as I think anyone would). I love this book because it aided in my daily devotion and meditation on Christ and pointed me further and deeper into my worship of the eternal Son. All praise be to God!! It also for certain helped me add more books to my reading list, though I was gratified to see one that I have recently read – Macleod’s “Person of Christ” quoted myriads of times. I do believe Macleod’s book is simply phenomenal and one I enjoyed more for the richness of its language, even if it isn’t quite as dense or detailed as this tome. Anyway, I stray. Just know that this book is worth the price of admission if you are at all interested in the orthodox understanding of who Christ is or simply seeking to read a book that will encourage your soul as you meditate on the glories of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. This is a beautiful book.
58. Scott Pilgrim’s Precious Little Life – Vol 1 by Bryan Lee O’Malley. Sometimes you just need a break from a dense and difficult work and so you turn to an easy and entertaining graphic novel. And Scott Pilgrim fits the bill. I enjoyed this re-read, as simple and silly as it is! Of course it helps having the movie in the back of my mind at all times, as I visualize that and hear the line readings in my head. This is nothing serious or insightful, just pure fun. And sometimes that’s ok.
59. Scott Pilgrim vs. the World – Vol 2 by Bryan Lee O’Malley. In the mood to continue my reacquaintance with Scott, I heartily enjoyed this read, especially because it delves into Scott’s past and gives a bit of his backstory (like his past with Kim!!). Also some great Knives bits and even a fun recipe and cooking interlude! I like this one. And question. Is it weird that I think Ramona is not the most interesting girl in this book? Or…even the second most interesting girl? For some reason, Kim and Knives were much more fascinating in this one. (and now I think ahead to Vol 3, where a certain Natalie V enters the scene). Anyway, this one was a fun quick read!
Bedrock
Devotion to truth and beauty is admirable. But there is a potential for this devotion to sour as one notes a misperception that leads to a devotion improperly placed. In other words, something is called true that is not true. Or something is called beautiful that is not beautiful? Nonsense you may cry. Who are you to define truth or beauty? These are nebulous concepts that cannot truly be nailed down. I agree that I am not infallible and it is very possible – even probable – that my comments stand on sand at times. Yet I am not putting myself forward as the arbiter of beauty or my own poetry held high as the level of truth. No, all I am stating is the statement that there is a standard of truth and beauty and so perhaps this does point to one who may judge such. Is this too far? We may quibble on interpretations and paradigms of course. But is it wrong to posit that there may just possibly be realities that are solid in and of themselves and are far beyond our ability to alter? This is all I say, at this time. Later on, perhaps over a coffee or something more bitterly delicious, I will discuss with you my thoughts on the realities that to me are more truly beautiful than any others I can dare to imagine. And yes of course, these realities are based in the God whom I call my own, the one who is more beautifully true than my mind can truly grasp. It is difficult for the finite to grasp the eternal, yet I try. And so in what I call feeble faithfulness upheld by the infinite united to my soul I lay my head down in sweet peace that I am known by the one of whom nothing greater can be known to be.
Modus operandi
Often I forget how lovely my early morning reading and meditation times can be. Too often do I struggle to wake up early enough – truly, it is not always easy waking up hours before sunrise. And oh too often do I allow myself once awake to get distracted by silly things – oh phone, begone from me! Though I am crafted in the image of the eternal, still true is it that I am a product of this age and thus susceptible to the little thoughts and fears and cravings that are manifested in this current generation. Hence how important it is to be deliberate in setting guardrails and being proactive in setting aside some quiet time and space to sit and breathe and pray and read that I might closer draw to the God who made all things. And as I say all this in that elevated morning manner that comes from being fresh of mind and slightly caffeinated it might be easy for one to view me as the pretentious, haughtily pious type. Far be it from me to claim any particular uniqueness of thought or practice. Rather, I opened this tab and started typing this morning with the air of gratitude and wonder. Far, far too often do I spend my early morning times distracting myself with lesser things or allowing my thoughts to wander to places less profitable. So when there is a notable exception – such as today – I wish to chronicle. I actually woke up moderately on time. My coffee brewed, I sat down in my little corner chair and spread my books out and made sure my phones were across the room. And then I opened the book (the best book first, as always) and began to read and pray. And oh how my soul was blessed as I read many words and meditated upon many truths and cried out mini-prayers to my God as I was struck anew by the fact that I am an adopted son and am blessed with life eternal. Many minutes did I spend this morning reading and being refreshed by the truths of God. My heart feels enlivened now – reflecting a reality that I alas do not always feel. I feel freshened and ready to face a hectic and most likely stressful work day. I wish I always felt this way at the beginning of a day, but we all know far too well that our emotional state at the beginning of a day is not always a bellwether for that which is to come. So instead, I sit quietly right now and praise my God for blessing me with such sweet intimacies with him and I call on him to bless my day as I walk forward in hope and faith. And I ask that I might be faithful this day in all things.
Visions
It was a long time ago it seems that we walked this forest path. I breathed deep of pine and beech and of an impulse I take your hand. The air is quiet in the way you only get when you’re far off from any sounds of engines or whirring gears though now and again I hear a bird pipe up and say hello hello my friend I’m here! And the air is quiet but it’s also heavy with the air of anticipation that a long awaited moment brings. This of course is something I bring into the forest and so is not native to this land. I turn and look at you and note how still your face is as you simply soak in the moment of a quiet stroll through this fairy realm. It does indeed seem like one of the small woods-folk could be around the next bend and we could have a chat, if only we had the eyes to see of course. But do we? I don’t bring this thread to the surface and chase it down for fear of diverting us from this melody of life. Do you hear the music, my friend? Do you? With that breaking of the silence, you turn to me and smile. This wood is delightful you say, truly I can’t believe we’re here walking where once legends dwelt. And for this moment I’ve waited ever so long, to be here with you, while overhead towers the trees we love. Is it enough, this wood?
Not long ago was it that we sat on the edge of a cliffside and gently tended that fire of roses. We talk of this and that upon this cliff looking out over the seas that leap and shout. But in the stark grey beauty of the ocean there is a moment that I quiver. And I sing now oh be still my heart! From where comes the song that was promised for I wait to hear the long lost melody. You say softly that the song was written on that piece of parchment. And I reply that somehow I knew it was meant for me. I shiver as I think that soon my lips shall sing these words. We both lean closer to the cliffside and let our bodies rejoice in this sea spray. My eyes sparkle with anticipation as I turn to you and say – shall we sit upon the edge here and let our feet dangle and talk of all the tales that we’ve not yet told? You giggle and stir the fire casually and mutter low – I have so many things to tell you. I never want to let you go. As we breathe deep of fire and roses and the song leaps unbidden to our lips we look to each other as blue meets brown and wonder – how did it come to this? This fire, is it enough?
Soon will come the moment when we’re standing upon the beach and gazing off into the west. Do you see the pinks and purples and oranges of the sky and wonder what they all mean? Is there a deeper significance to this beauty or is it just some grand coincidence? I laugh and squeeze your hand a little tighter and you turn to me and radiantly smile. There is more to this than the world that was promised. For truly this world is not enough. I know I tell you, I know. But surely we can bring a little meaning into the world if we in our hearts summon deep the joy and pains we have written thus far. But are we the originators of this meaning or are we merely echoing a long told tale? Echoes and symmetry I sigh. I know, I know. Just as this sunset plucks a chord in our hearts and we tremble knowing that we are made for more. Do you hear the music now you ask me. I do I reply. Oh surely I do. But still something is missing. Or someone.
These rhymes that fill my mind have not stopped. My love do you remember that day we walked in that wood? I do of course. That was the day my heart began to quicken as I began to believe there was more to this world than our eyes could see. But do you remember that grey twilight upon which we sat at that fire and burned bouquets of roses as we told each other our hopes and dreams? I can only reply you know I do. That was the day I knew we were on a road that we could not leave. Then you know that we only wait one thing. Our lives have spiraled around the core of truth that can be no other than what is now before us as we see the sun set before our eyes. Where is the one that was promised? We have been given much but still where is the well-laden table, where is the bread and wine? We are missing the one that was promised, the one that takes away the sin of the world. But remember you say your eyes now beginning to glow with inner fire, that one is provided by the one for whom our soul longs. In fact, you say now in a hushed and reverent manner, that one is come into the world and provided himself for himself for us that might dwell with him in the most full and rich communion that could ever be imagined in this world. Imagine that. Behold the lamb.
I take up the vision and fiercely pen all these things my mind have seen. In the darkening of the night, I feel your hand tighten upon my shoulder as we gaze up at the falling stars. And as light flashes from east to west, I whisper to you do you remember what joy is ours as we look forward to taking cups and toasting at that table? Oh my heart quivers. These words now ring in my head as I prepare myself for the consummation of all that’s been written. We now stand in purple twilight and gaze up at the fires of angels as we prepare to dine in heaven. The echoes of that long ago forest walk come back to me and I whisper what I heard him say and my heart rejoices that he is now near at hand
I will drape my cloak over you
I will ever draw you with my hand
I will call you by the music of my voice
I will surely bring you to my promised land
You and I stand together under the banner of redeeming love. We have no qualms about what is written for now united in sweet union are the songs of faith and hope as they look upon what descends from above. I should not say what, but who. And you know of whom I speak. His name is upon my lips as we hold hands tight and prepare for eternity where the songs will never stop and there will be no more echo for the source shall be before us in perfection of beauty and glory – that one robed in infinity and yet marked still by the suffering that he bore for those he descended to save, that in the fullness of his divinity and might still he stoops down that we might know his name. And now we tremble as we stand before him in a way and place I cannot describe for my thoughts flee far above and far beyond and before him we stand and I see his face.
One and Five
This lovely damp grey Saturday, let’s post a few thoughts on my latest reads shall we??
52. Anne of Avonlea by L.M. Montgomery. A lovely book. My reading of Anne continues with the second book in the series and while I’ll bluntly state that it’s not quite as good as the first book, this is still a beautiful read. I could find little spots here and there to poke at, but there are also some truly lovely moments and lines. I love reading books such as this, ones that are simple and sweet and make me smile with delight at the beauty contained therein. I will note that this is the book where Montgomery apparently falls in love with the use of the ellipsis and I laughed to see how often she utilizes such. Also, I believe that in this book her powers of description soar even higher than the first book. I could read this book for the descriptions of nature alone. One of my favourite chapters was the one where Anne and her friends wander the countryside and have a beautiful day together conversing and laughing and tramping through the woods – a chapter only Montgomery could write with such simple elegance and joy.
53. Bearing Witness – What the Church Can Learn from Early Abolitionists by Daniel Lee Hill. A powerful and insightful work. This is a book I was not sure how to approach at first, wondering how Hill’s engagement with early Christian abolitionists would serve to craft a call to action for the church today – are we as the Christian church to attempt to live out a social gospel in denigration of the work of Christ for us or ought we spend our time in a Christian bunker priding ourselves on our own fidelity and adherence to the orthodox faith? Hill masterfully addresses both these ditches while providing a pattern and ethos for how the church might truly bear witness to the gospel of Jesus Christ in this modern world in which we live. I much appreciate the author’s dedication to centering the work of Christ and refusing to downplay the true gospel while at the same time pleading with the church to understand what it means to bear the burdens of both our fellow Christian and our fellow man as we live in this world in this present age, yes aware of its fallenness and looking forward in hope to the coming redemption and renewal of this world when Christ returns, but also keeping our eyes open and seeking to understand the mission of Christ on this world so that we might model such and in the moments that pop up around us, improvise on the themes of mercy and grace and suffering that we see running throughout all of Scripture and indeed, those themes that our very soul resonates with as we are sealed and enlivened by the Spirit of God.
I fear this somewhat rambling first paragraph may not do the force of Hill’s argument justice. I have not even begun to express my appreciation for how the author works through the narrative of slavery and the abolitionary movement in the early history of the States. There is so much history and so many stories that could be told, but I feel the author does a very fair job of attempting to lay the groundwork for the story tellers he is about to unveil. I love that Hill recognizes that the three fiery and faithful Christians he highlights in this book – David Ruggles, Maria W. Stewart, & William Still – are Christian voices that can still speak to us today, as they are indeed a part of the living and enduring church of Christ. So in retrieving their voices from the past, Hill lets us be part of the audience that hears these brothers and sisters speak and thus we can seek to understand what wisdom might they have that we can then ponder in our hearts and be blessed by such. I loved understanding the stories of these three historic figures – nay, not just historic figures – actual real people and brothers and sisters in Christ! – and hearing how they navigated the fraught waters of early 19th-century America, a place where it was not at all easy or safe to be a black person, enslaved or free. Hill seeks to show that even though it may not have been easy or safe, these three still sought to work in and cultivate the spaces they inhabited and to faithfully go forth to bear witness to the gospel of Christ in working and suffering alongside their fellow man. The historical facts of their lives were fascinating but even more so, the force and light of their testimony was humbling. Are we living such lives of witness in the places in which we live and move and have our being, understanding that we all live under the gracious and merciful hand of God?
And that brings us to the author’s conclusion, where he seeks to extract the nuggets of wisdom from the testimonies and stories we’ve been listening to and ask how the church might respond. Will the church’s response to our own modern horrors and nightmares look identical to how Ruggles, Stewart and Still acted? Perhaps not, for society is structured differently and we may not have the same mediums of communication or fellowship as were present in early 19th-century America. Still yet. Do we see in their actions a framework for how the church might keep its eyes open to the opportunities are around us? Even as we center our lives around the gospel of Christ and remember our call to proclaim such boldly, does not the presence of the church in this world and its calling to suffer as Christ has suffered indicate an allotted portion of stepping alongside our fellow and seeking to bear one another’s burdens and mourning with those who mourn as we recognize the patterns of decay even in the structures of our everyday? And we ought be so washed and enlivened in the Spirit that our thoughts ever more often resonate with the commands of Christ to love one another and so our patterns of behavior will then meet the moments that we encounter so that we truly exhibit the love of Christ.
I am writing too many words, but I am grateful for this book. It is written at a fairly high academic level and though I enjoy such, it may not be for all. Still, I found it profitable. Some may not like that this book is not more “practical” or does not put forth any sort of concrete action plan. But I would argue that is not this author’s aim. Instead the author is attempting to set forth a paradigm for the church that will of necessity lead to a multiplicity of responses. There is not and cannot be a cookie-cutter approach to living Christ-like lives in this fallen world in which we live. Also in this book there are moments of dry humor that I greatly appreciated, but more than that, I very much was struck by the awe and reverence the author has for our God and for His Word and for the holy calling that is upon all of us to follow Christ. While we are yet on this world, we groan as we recognize that it is not our home and that while we are absent from our Lord, we are incomplete. We now inhabit the temporal but we look for the eternal, for that city that will one day be our home where we shall see our Lord face to face. We long for the day when our Lord will return and make all things new and wipe away every tear. And so in the now, we with hope look for what is to come and bear witness to the God who is our hope. Might we cry out to God that he might give us eyes to see and the grace to live in such a way that this witness is one that to the world makes it clear that God has not abandoned this world and that we are not alone.
Dialogue Part Two
Consider my friend, consider the truths upon which my feet are planted. I smiled and said to her that’s a pretty bold opening line. And she tilted her head and looked into my eyes and said I know but it’s because I care for you. And not in a melodramatic sappy way or the way in which you might write poetry and ask me to be your valentine. I care for your eternal soul and so of course I’m going to be dramatic yet no less than true. I come to tell you about the truth in which I believe and have my whole life bound up with because I want you to know this same truth too. But ok I answered I know you’re a Christian and I understand that you have these beliefs in the God who you said saved your soul. But even so it’s just a religion for all that and though I’m glad for you what does this have to do with me? When I’m a person who is just as – or nearly – as good as you and I think deserve a good life too. See that’s the problem she whispered now, her eyes glittering in predestined passion. What do we deserve when all is said and done? What do we deserve when our lives go down with setting sun and smile turns to frown as our bodies morph to dust and ash and our souls cry aloud? Why don’t say hell or any such ridiculous fundamental scare tactic I rolled my eyes as I sounded this rather impressive rhetorical line upon her. You land before me upon the shore she says yes you preempt my lines. All I’m trying to say is that I believe in a God divine a God who made us and who when all is said and done owns us for it is for him for who our lives were devised. And how have we answered him at the end of all things? We spit in his face and say our lives are ours and we shall surely keep them. And he says of course and grants us our way and so we toss the chain more firmly over our own shoulders and we self satisfied proceed on as slaves ending up where we’ve said we most want to be. We end up alone and on our own and apart from God forever. For we have declared we want no part of our Maker. And we end up exactly where we deserve – parted from God forever. Is that what you want? Well maybe I reply a bit abashed at the fervor of her answer. But is this what Christianity is? A bully God bullying me to want to be with Him like some psycho girlfriend? Why would I want to be with a sadistic all powerful being that can’t even condescend to just understand where I’m coming from and treat with me on my level? Wow ok. She almost laughed but instead eyes wide replied. There’s some really profound questions there and I begin to think God is working in you even now drawing you closer to him. How do I answer? Well perhaps consider if there is a God – what do you know about him? Instead of assuming him a monster, what if you think of Him as the pinnacle of infinity and the bearer of attributes that proclaim him more perfect and beautiful than your mind can dare to grasp? And what if he knows that’s what’s best for you is to be in relationship with this God and to be his child? Perhaps he knows there is nothing better than to know and be known by God. And so of course he asks you to come. And perhaps consider that in his desire to call us all to him he knows that we cannot in our weakness and frailty consider the immensity of God and so instead he does condescend to us and does treat us on our level and in fact God steps down and makes himself as one of us to show his love? And in this love he asks that you simply come to him and acknowledge who he is and acknowledge who you are and in this knowledge of yourself and reaching knowledge of who he is you bow before his divine majesty and say i’m not enough. You are. For who is this one who condescends? You know who I’m about to say. Yes I know I answer finally, my cheeks flushed a bit as my world starts to shake between the still settling eternal aftershocks. You’re going to say Jesus. Are you not? And she nods and bites her lip and says yes. Jesus. He is the Son of God and God Himself and is the one who came to condescend and offer to you his hand. But first he hung on a cross and was pierced and bled and died and then yes as you’ve heard – he rose again! The Lord of glory walked this earth as man and did it so that you might know God true. And if you bow and kneel and say Lord forgive me, I’m a sinner and I believe in you then life life everlasting is yours and not life apart but life with God for true. Come my friend. Come to know the truth. For what is truth? Jesus Christ the Lord God made flesh the one who died for you.
Weight of Glory
My dreams are strange ones. The late afternoon light shimmers with a glam only a sultry summer day can summon. And though soon I must dart outside and take the groceries from the driver, for now I rest my hand upon the rim of the perspiring glass and thank the Lord for this cold drink of water. There is little that quenches thirst better on an August day though so many other beverages love to flaunt their wares and tempt one with a solidly executed ad campaign. Yet I know better. Water is what I want and water is what I’ll drink. Of course I do not harbor any silly hopes that this water was dipped from a cold mountain stream and placed in a well insulated thermos simply to be transported two thousand miles to the grocery store down the street. Still yet. It’s water. And it’s pure. Well, relatively. Sometimes it’s best to not interrogate the process. Here now, say now. Where was I? Mentioning my dreams as I recline on the couch and consider the giants that have stepped before. Ah yes. I love to let my eyes play upon the page and eagerly does my mind thrill to the thought of reading of those men and women of the faith and seeing their words of witness will surely never cease to bring me to my knees as I consider and pray and ask for what does my God have for me. Surely not is my fate the fate of giants and not for that do I hope. For with that fate comes a chalice of which one must dare to drink no matter what swirls within. Do not ask what it contains for one may not know before the proper time. And do I ask to drink such? I quail before the throne even though I see even now the coal lifted above my lips in anticipation of this severe proclamation. I say it’s folly to pray for such though very possibly this cup may yet to me be given. Instead of tracing my finger upon the path and nodding that surely such is mine, instead I lift my eyes to heaven and consider the words of heaven and say oh lord make my will as thine. For what do I pray? I know not, yet just ask that the will of God be done. Oh Spirit pray for me. And when all is said and done, may it be said that I was faithful, that I served as heaven’s son. Oh Lord have mercy upon me and let me see thy face. And you respond someday my child. Someday. And I lift the cup to my lips and drink eagerly of the water within. The heat outside is oppressive sure. But for now I turn the page and breathe a prayer. Hear me my Father. And in the pages of the word I see the light of glory reflected in truths divine. Listen my son. Listen.
Equilibrium Transformed
A few thoughts on my latest read!
50. Enjoy Your Prayer Life by Michael Reeves. One of the best books on prayer I’ve ever read. And that’s saying something – a very small book of forty pages that is really more of a booklet than full scale book! This book isn’t trying to be a large treatise on prayer or attempting to explain all the theological assumptions and implications of prayer. No, this is simply a book to aid and encourage a Christian in what it means to talk to God. How good it is to remember that I am a child of God and thus have the right (and joy!) to approach God and simply talk. Sometimes the guilt and shame overcome us and we feel oh so unworthy. But if we are children and understand that we have a Father who delights to hear his children, why would we not want to pray to him? And sometimes we feel as if our words are feeble and that we aren’t good at praying and we’re afraid we will say the wrong things. So what a delight to know that the Spirit is interceding with us and helping us to pray even when we do not have the words to say! This book is a grounding, a helpful aid to understand why we pray and why we should pray. It’s not going to give you all the tactics and techniques – there are other books for that. Rather, this is a book to warm your heart as you remember what God has done for you – grant you forever life with him through the death and resurrection of his son Jesus Christ – and thus rejoice in considering how wonderful a gift it is that we might talk to our God every waking moment of our lives. This book was a wonderful reminder and encouragement for my soul. Oh how my heart was encouraged as I read this book and what a longing rose in my heart to pray more to my blessed God.
Something Weird 