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.
Tag: faith
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.
Simmering
A quick little book post while the split pea soup cooks on the stove.
49. The Work of Christ by Robert Letham. A wonderful book that was most suited to my recent meditating on Christ these past weeks. This book helped me think more clearly on all aspects of the work of Christ, but the parts that most ministered to my soul were the chapters on the atonement (what a surprise no!?). Oh how sweet it was to think and wrestle through what it means that Christ died for sinners! And while I say this book was very much an aid to my meditating on Christ and an encouragement to my soul, I must hasten to say that it is also a fairly academic work – and yes, a bit dry at times. Still though, I found this work most enlightening and not just in an intellectual way – it brought me closer to my Lord and filled my heart with joy and love as I considered what my God has done for me. The chapter at the end on the intent of the atonement was particularly cohesive and well written. The author did a fair job at grappling with various views of Christ’s work and attempting to give all sides a fair shake, but at the end of the day, his beliefs around Christ and his work hewed very closely to a traditional reformed view. There were a few elements of this that I slightly disagreed with (mostly the author’s statement’s on Christ’s kingdom work both now and in the future), yet still I cannot complain over much. This book brought me closer to my Lord and indeed gave me such joy as I meditated more and more these past days on His work for this world and yea, even for one such as me.
Scraps
Sometimes I crave to write about the little things, the forgotten and the alone. Sometimes I feel as if the big and grand have been stretched to death and in the explorations of such it as if the details overtake the whole and thus the whole feels smaller somehow. Surely the universe contains more than my mind can comprehend yet still I seek to understand and perhaps I reach for that deeper knowledge that lurks beyond the veil. And so though I know – or least claim to know – the truths of what was and is and is to come, there are moments when I let go and simply rest in peace that the unknown by me is known by one and this knowing is the comprehensive kind that somehow finds room for me too. Yes, I speak of God. For who else is worthy of all my thoughts, the small and great alike? There is nothing greater that can be thought than the God whom my soul craves to know. And you know, do you know, of that which I speak? There is a whisper that speaks louder than all the screaming voices that flicker along the waves that crash upon the shore over and over again. This whisper comes from a voice that spoke before the world began, a voice that in the beginning spoke so that the world began. This word that existed in this time and space where there was neither is the word which now I lift my eyes to in awestruck love as I consider the love that is mine flowing down the side of him who died, in this word that was and is and is to come and this word that spoke my name and in this quiet moment as I consider the cosmos shaking truth that somehow in a sense i don’t fully understand this word died as lips spoke in simple unshaken faith that all was accomplished in a moment of time upon this earth as space held still in hushed humility to consider the work that was done on that patch of dirt upon that small forsaken hill and so I lift my eyes to the word that was lifted up for me. So long ago and yet not long ago as some would consider time to flow. And so because of what has been done for me, I rest my soul and so I can write about the little things, the quiet moments on the grass, the slowly flickering candle and the whir of the overhead fan and the traffic whirring down the road for even all these things point to a greater whole and a cosmos made and held together by a divine one who now sits upon the right hand of the majesty on high even if this world does not quite know – or rather refuse to know – that the lives of all are held within the hand of the one who created all things and then descended in shocking condescension so that some may behold his face. Now in faith I do behold him and I hope for that day when I shall look upon his face for true. I lift my voice to heaven and praise Father, Spirit, Son. What is it that the Godhead should consider me beloved? My eyes water at the thought and I tremble as I think on that day that blood and water ran out of a body that was given freely for me. And just so as that body died so too did it three days later rise to life upheld by the Father in triumphant resurrection glory and because I am through the work of the Spirit bound to Christ, I know that so too I have died and now in new life rise and in communion with God I live forever even if forever does not always feel that way. In faith I sing joyous praises. In hope I cry oh Lord Jesus come soon. In love I weep for divine favor. And I hear a whisper on the wind and upon the pages. My child, I died for you.
Ever Lovely
A few thoughts on recent books this warm Sunday afternoon.
45. The Person of Christ by Donald Macleod. A profound work. If one is wanting to meditate more on the person of Christ, this book is a great treasure indeed. This book is one that I wanted to linger in, take my time in and enjoy, yet I couldn’t stop reading it because it brought me such great pleasure simply to think on the glories and majesty of Christ and who He is! I already can’t wait to read this again at some point (soon). It is dense at times and not always easy to wrap one’s mind around. Yet does that not make sense? We cannot fully understand all the deep mysteries of the nature of Christ, yet we try – and have tried for near on two millennia. This book unites several of my deepest passions – history/philosophy and Christ – so of course it is going to be a book that I love. This book showcases some of the beliefs regarding who Christ is and does a wonderful job of walking through the various arguments and debates that have swirled around such. The author does a fair job of presenting all sides of the argument, yet by and large he comes down on the side of the historically orthodox, even when these stances are difficult to fundamentally understand. At the end of the day, I rest in the statements made in Scripture itself, even when such seems to contradict what we think philosophically possible. I loved this book. It’s a bit heady and I don’t know if if it would be a suitable read for all. Yet if you want to challenge yourself and read a work on Christ that will truly make you think more deeply on who Christ is, I heartily recommend this one.
46. 11/22/63 by Stephen King. I think I just must not be a Stephen King fan. This is only the second (maybe third?) of his I’ve read and I’ve bounced off them every single time. Yes, they’re incredibly plotty and because of the subject matter, you do want to read through to the end. But this book just wasn’t doing it for me. I really think one of the main things this book has going for it is the plot point at its heart. Is the protagonist going to be able to save JFK from his grisly fate? And so of course, one races through the (very large) text to see what happens. With the exception of a few of the Jodie chapters in the middle – I loved reading about George and Sadie’s blossoming relationship and the kids at the high school, especially the play! – the reading experience was just not that pleasurable for me. King’s prose is merely workmanlike (word choice often obnoxiously repetitive) and though I know this is my issue, I really dislike all the strong and vulgar language used throughout. I don’t want to be putting this into my head and imagination. And of course, though the focus on the inhumanity of certain segments of humanity is one of the themes of the book (particularly in regards to brutal men), I very much dislike wallowing in such. Also, the evil of man shown throughout this work so strongly contrasts the glowing virtue of the protagonist, yet this contrast only highlights the undeveloped nature of said protagonist. He truly does seem like an angel, a bolt from heaven, grimly doing what must be done and yet what is his arc? Yes, he does cry again and yes, he does return to Sadie only when he has sacrificed his life with her. But it’s difficult to really see a real person behind the facade of Jake Eppings. I suppose if one simply wants a thriller, this book would satisfy. King does do a wonderful job at texturing his world and really getting across the feel of a place with all its grungy and wonderful details. Yet I simply couldn’t enjoy this one. I need to remember that King is not for me.
Something Weird 